Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia

All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Oh! My third home, the library -
I'm in the dell room
among deciduous, palm frond,
evergreen books -
hibernating, resting, migrating, blooming.

We are free, baby, free -
we book lovers, learners...
sisters and brothers, living and spirited,
mingling like atoms in one brilliantly built
evolving body.

This home I will fight to keep safe...
though it contains thoughts not my own...
some I deplore - never to open... 
some I adore, like music living,
leaping off the page, pitched, melodied,
flowing like a river, down, up, falling, rising,
pooling quiet like the middle of a starry night,
or roaring like a cheering, chanting,
discordant and harmonious crowd.
I'm on an Indian Kayak of my making -
water drenching my face.
I'm carried down stream into the ocean room
where dolphins leap and right whales
bump the side of my kayak staring
curiously into my eyes.

Oh! This home I will fight to keep safe.
We are free, baby, free -
we book lovers, learners...
sisters and brothers, living and spirited,
mingling like atoms in one brilliantly built
evolving body.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Ten pounds, raw, ripe rounds of delicious, margaritas.
One slow kiss... one sip with salt on the rim -
hmmm....  another sip tastes lime on my tongue...
two long kisses, oh... love, tequilla, grand marnier,

Ten pounds, raw, ripe rounds of tempeh stir fry sizzling
with crisp brocolli, kale, garlic and coconut milk.
One hot kiss... one taste mingling with galangal root,
lemon grass dancing in my mouth -
hmmm... another taste I move my chair close to you...
two kisses more, oh... love Thai fragance heart shaped,
whirling around me and you.

Ten pounds, raw, ripe rounds of decadent chocolate
ganache spooned over chocolate almond torte.
One sacred, swooning french kiss,
God kissing you kissing me..
one bite of bitter sweet, darkness light cacao full
of antioxidents - hmmmm... creating celestial ideas,
causing the brain to expand... two kisses, three, four,
more... your skin on my lips, oh... love, almonds with
dark chocolate, butter and, especially, you.

Ten pounds because of love, on my thigh, my arms,
my stomach. You say you see beauty. 
If I want to lose these ten pounds of happiness...
you, a man of men, see action as the appetizer,
accompaniny a margarita, Thai stir fry, chocolateness...
action as the appetizer?  hmmm.....bring it on baby!
Lovers and foody runners.
You and me.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Tired of not writing,
I bought free trade coffee beans
with Michael's money,
(He is missing my visions.)
loving from afar,
peering into my treed path,
pining for rapture.
My own spirit's foot steps I follow,
through the painter's forest -
leaving city dreams behind.
In this fusion of fall, leaves snow to the earth,
momentary wings,
shadow and light falling,
coating me in autumn colors...
            ...waking, wandering wind.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Blog Update:  For a brief time I need to stop writing poetry for Four Lines while I focus on my job situation.  I look forward to writing again soon!  Peace and blessings to you all!  Claudia Annabelle

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Jim emailed me a jewel
about creating self
with an I love you,
reminding me of Sarie's
sayings she gave me,
pictured around the house -
one from Winston Churchill,
"Never, never, never give up"
magneted, residing over kitchen
life, over potatoes baking,
Pakrikash sautéing, stirring apple sauce,
adding cardamom, sipping deep red wine,
conversations.  Conversations.
I gave the jewel to Michael,
with an I love you,
because of Liana's brilliance
unknown to herself.
I love words of Amy Cuddy,
residing over our seeded ground,
growing, green leaves rising to the sun,
one by one, posing proud.
Her wisdom?
"You are supposed to be here!
You're going to fake it,
You're going to do it and do it and do it,
not just till you make it, but until you
become it...until you become it.
You're going to make yourself powerful..."
My dear brother, sending me jewels
of self creation, I am listening.

Monday, October 8, 2012

His first marathon, 26.2 miles,
In less then five hours -
Twin Cities finish line crossed,
like kissing the ground of home
after a long voyage to distant lands.
He wept in my arms,
this determined, hale, warmhearted man.
Next year I'll weep into his
following his lead.
Today I ran around the block
layered in crunching autumn leaves,
not a third of a mile, unable to run one more step.
The thought of 26.2 miles appears, a looming,
mountain behind continuously moving cumulous clouds,
clouds he suddenly appeared through
like running people of ancient times.

Now he says no to running.
Lying next to me, I smell his shoulders,
gaze into sparkling, intriguing eyes.
Giddy he answers the gamut one by one,
Run, not walk?
Run for your life?
Off and running? Hit the ground running?
No and no.
Run of the mill?
No. Walk of the mill.
Eat and run?
No, eat and converse.
Run an errand?
Run a tight ship?
A sailboat?
The course of true love never did runs smooth?
Still waters run deep? Stocks for the long or short run?
Run like the wind? Run your fingers through my hair,
your hand across my thigh?
Hmmm... Ah, hmmmm... No.  Meander?
Stroll?  Walk?  Step?  Pace?
Tread?  Journey?  Bike?  Yes.
Run?  Read my lips... N O.
The illusion of time -  heals all wounds, 
running included, so.....
might you say yes two years from now?
No.  There is no running out of time.
He's passed the baton to me.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

He is on my mind, warm,
like a glowing fireplace in January.
Stepping barefoot on cold floor,
deciding what to wear,
brushing my hair, clasping a bracelet,
sipping tea accompanying toast with jam,
buckling my favorite brown shoes,
opening the door to fall's greeting,
a symphonic whirling of leaves and wind -
I am warm.  He is always with me,
glowing like a fireplace in January.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Four Lines, for some anomaly,
  are like waking up Orion.
The alarm continually rings.
  He does not hear it.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

My body is tired.
Thinking confuses me,
but not the evergreen forest
of my dreaming.
I lay on pine needles,
blanket them around me,
warm under beams of dappled moonlight,
listening to the breeze glide through branches,
sounds guiding me to sleep.