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.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Wally watches his waving hand
as if he has not seen it before,
as if it were an angel's wing.

Back and forth, he rhythmically rocks,
grinning to music, kool 108,
entrance to his enigmatic world.

Beside him on the rocking chair,
I groove and listen, am honored to visit,
his place where there is only music.

No chairs, no house, no cars outside,
no squirrels jumping tree to tree,
no sidewalks and mid-summer gardens,

no visions, no feelings
no thoughts, no one else at all.
We are synchronized, parallel

until even we disappear.
I cherish

I cherish breathing with my singing skin
tapping my singing toes under morning sheets
the steadiness of my singing feet upon the oak floor
water with lemon in my singing mouth
wind of Earl Gray tantalizing my singing nose
water soaking my singing pores and singing hair
the dawning of voices in my singing ear

I cherish you across the table, your singing eyes
you pass the butter with a singing hand,
speak of your singing day

I cherish my work with a singing mind
sing to my colleagues, who listen or not,
some do not know they sing

I cherish my son who sings at night -
a 5 am bird - I wake to his song winding up stairs
and into my room, my singing room

I cherish my arms, my singing arms,
that wrap around you and all the world
a singing world that is not quiet
a singing world that is not quiet
like Beethoven's forest fires and flowers
Carl Witt's melodies of emerald showers
Vincent's hues, Bonnie Raitt's blues

I cherish my crying before I sing
your singing to my silent song
our singing, even when off key