Emissaries of Summer

Lavish winged parchment

As butterflies flutter by

Aloft - alighting

Perfect petalled pedestals

Dappled light dances

Filmy twin ailerons

Zig-zag-zigged floating

Ends in fragrant nectared rest

As a child, I thought

Butterflies were fairies whose

Magical kisses

Urged blossoms to blush their hues

A Note from the Author

Pablo Picasso was quoted as saying, “Painting is just another way of keeping a diary”.   I feel the same way about writing poetry, it is very much autobiographical – a form of journaling.   

Happy Anniversary!

June 2, 2011 will mark the three month anniversary of the creation of Push Button Poetry.  Since that time I have written and posted forty-six original poems.   This has been an exciting time for me creatively, as I had not made a serious effort to write for many years.

Prior to beginning this blog, I did a great deal of research regarding poetry blogging.  Nearly everything I read indicated that most modern readers are no longer interested in poetry.  Therefore, I began this journey solely as a creative outlet - expecting little readership; other than a few family members and perhaps, some close friends. 

In its first three months of existence, this blog has had more than 1,100 visits by readers of poetry from more than 30 countries.  Thank you for helping to prove the “experts” wrong.  Poetry, prose and a genuine love for the written word of our magnificent language are very much alive and well. 

I am sincerely humbled and honored that you have joined me here!  

I look forward to the next three months of writing and creating.

K. C. Nash

Of Daisies and Roses

In my youth

A daisy I was

Plain faced

Perky

What-you-see-is-what-you-get

Happy

Uncomplicated

Easy to please

A daisy

Most young men I knew

Wanted only roses

Unblemished - symmetrical

Perfect in their dewy, delicate beauty

Richly perfumed breath

With no time at all for a simple daisy like me

Life has a sense of humor though

For roses require constant attention

They scream “high maintenance”

With plenty of thorns for a gardeners trouble

As years have passed

A few roses of my acquaintance

Have lost their bloom

Their dewy freshness evaporated

Sadly, some are utterly lost
Living in the long shadow of a glorious past

Now that they are no longer admired for their grace

I have come to realize that

Daisies are beautiful

A unique and lovely allure they possess
Roses and daisies are both meant to bloom, after all

My sage advice for selecting a mate

Is to look with your heart
Take your time - you can wait

For your eye can't be trusted - it will deceive

Attraction is not love
Once it's gone - you may leave
The beauty you can feel
Is the kind that is real

and …

Daisies make lasting bouquets

Revived - Resuscitated

Hurtful, cruel comments

Cutting remarks

Of others in my past

Who sneered and jeered

Belittled – then whittled me

Down to a stub of nothingness

When I shared my dreams

So I learned from them,

These knife tongued men,

Not to dream, wish, have desires

For dreams are dangerous things

To carry around in your pockets

Since they are all too easily broken

Crushed to dust

I found it best to pretend

That my dreams didn’t exist

…  At all  …

So I pushed-shoved them

Far into the back corners of drawers

Way behind my socks and sundries

In dark airless spaces

Without food or light

Hoping they would die

Then we met … you and I

In your gentle ways

I saw goodness – felt the hope

That genuine love brings
Your caring taught me
The value of caring for myself

Giving me the courage

The will

To dare to dream again

I gained the strength to revive - resuscitate

My emaciated desires

Allowing the sweet breath of life

To flow back into them, and myself,

Once more

My dreams have since flourished

Taken flight

Growing far beyond anything

I could have imagined

Thanks to you

My wildest, most wonderful wishes

Are alive - Coming true

Farewell in Any Language

Why is “Good-bye”
The wrench used to loosen hearts
So that they free fall
Shattering to splinters?

Rivers of tears
Won’t bring back love; restore faith
Torrents endless fall
As grief drowns life away

In any language
Farewell is a word of pain
Finality aches
Yet love’s eternal power
Endures beyond the grave

Second Hand Man

I found a man …

Got him second hand

He handles well

Low mileage; good tires

Well maintained

Kind of sporty

Nice clean lines

A classic in the making

He tends to accelerate

Running fast

Souped up V-8

Hitting on all cylinders

Man doesn’t know ---

The meaning of slow

When I hit the gas

He will not hesitate

When I hit the brake

He hates to de-accelerate

Yes, I've got a man …

Found him second hand

Yet he's a first rate guy

I vow to keep his tank

Filled up with love

Yes sir, folks ...
That's my plan

Platitudes of the Multitudes

Losing

Only

Brother

So close

In age - resemblance

Mistaken as twins

As we grew up and apart

Stolen

Torn

Taken

Untimely – too early

As a vital young man

Cheated
Of his life

Well meaning
Yet empty
Endless stream of words
Platitudes of the multitudes

Who nothing else knew

In their difficult discomfort

But to blurt out, unthinking,

“Time heals all wounds”

Indeed

Time

Alone

Does not – can not

Heal

Traumatic injuries

So deep

That the slightest breeze

Could blow straight through me

Ruffling my clothes

Countless

Tears

Cried

So many

Years

My shoes squeaked and sloshed

Leaving puddles of grief

On the floor

Where I walked

Time

Did not – could not

Heal me

Though grief now

Is not raw

It is still here

Always, ever
Hovering near

Whispering softly

In my ear,

"He is gone
 He is gone

 He is gone"

A Poem - Like a Prayer

A poem

Like a prayer

Soul’s whispered utterance

Often guttural; sometimes fair

Transcends reality

Rescues me - from despair

A verse
Like a balm
Soothes troubled spirit with rest and calm
Reminds measureless humanity has trod
Same arduous path of life
Resolutely - forward plod

Finding My Voice

At the gathering of rhymers - where first I did recite

Were other poets more worthy-polished; oh, so erudite

Metaphorically in pinafore-pigtails; I rattled-shook with fright

Standing meekly solo at center stage - in blinding beacon’s light

That day I did unveil my soul; its nakedness to expose

For I was still a tender babe in art of verse and prose

Much like the turkey carved - for Holiday's buffet

Fat, skin, gristle gone – the superfluous cut away

Leaving only the meat of me hanging from the bone

As I poured out my essence there; so profoundly alone
Laid bare as I was – ever fearful of rejection

I expected no less than my merciless dissection

For a rhyming verse of faux face - I knew I had not shown

But truest reflection of inner heart; which was my very own

As years progress, as I mature - my poet’s voice grows strong

Still, some days my voice will squeak or l get the meter wrong

I boldly now do add my cry to the turbulent, cacophonous song

Of poets, writers, rhymers, dreamers – noisy, wondrous throng!

The Same Question ... Repeated

"The unexamined life is not worth living." Socrates 


Unanswerable
The incessant question of
The why – why – why – why
Razing self; to clear new ground

I was created
To reason, ask, seek truth
For in asking “why”
I am my most human self

God knows the answers
To every question
I ask for faith – courage
To hear his reply

It is difficult
To listen with open mind
Sitting silent - still
Disclosure, so long delayed

Mortal element
By nature does not
Ever tire of asking, "Why?"
The pattern ever repeats

The ancients
These same inquiries made
No different were they ...
Than you or I
For 'tis only human to question, "Why?"

Dancing with Phantoms

You have begun to accept
That what you had wished for
Never really was
So agonzing, the weight of that reality
Even after all these years

I can see in your face
You've been dancing with phantoms
Indulging in the "What might have beens"
The "If onlys" can have gotten you down
Re-breaking your heart anew
To steal your joy away

Aren't you ready to move forward
To invite happiness into your life?
Embracing the possibility of a future real
The past is gone - it can't be changed
I pray you choose to let it go

You've been dancing with phantoms
Indulging in the "What might have beens"
The "If onlys" can have gotten you down
Re-breaking your heart anew
To steal your joy away

I ask you to reclaim your life
To take my hand and trust once more
To dare believe in the healing power of love
Won't you stop dancing with phantoms to

Come .... dance with me?

For Momma at Mother's Day

The first songs I ever sang
Were taught to me
At Momma's knee
Her clear soprano voice
Carried melodies
Oh, so sweet to me
No birdsong can compare to
Soft - low lullabies
That soothed away my baby cries
Lulling me to slumber's shores
In the arms of one adored
As Momma sang to me
Warmth of her love enfolded me

My first prayers offered
I knelt beside my toddler's bed
A tender child; the sleepyhead
Tiny hands folded together reverently
My eyes shut tight
As Momma prayed; with faith and might

In her job of raising me
Momma knew
That as I grew
To teach me to become a woman of integrity
Was God's calling for her mother's heart
I thank you, Momma
Your love has never failed me
With your help
I am the person God has created me to be
The race is won
Your part is done
Come, rest here in my love's warmth a while
I'll sing you close to slumber's shores
Lean on me
She whom I ... do so adore

Book of Proverbs - Chapter 31

¹⁰ A wife of noble character who can find?
   She is worth far more than rubies.

²⁸ Her children arise and call her blessed;
   her husband also, and he praises her:
²⁹ “Many women do noble things,
   but you surpass them all.”
³⁰ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
   but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
³¹ Honor her for all that her hands have done,
   and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.  

The Empress of Jasmine

This tiny safe haven
Well shielded
From winged-whining vampires
Hovering close; hunger crazed buzzing
As they bump-bump-bump
Against the wall of mesh screening
Desperate to devour us

Crickets draw their bows
Rasping them against the strings
Serenading symphony
Pulsating harmony

Evening cool slowly slips into
An empty rocking chair
Settling in for a cozy sleep
Wrapping herself with
Thick blanket of heady fragrance
Issued by blossoming jasmine
Un-replicated yet by finest French perfumers
Each delicate flower's essence
So mulitudinously multiplied
Filling this small porch - my lungs - my head
Until I am intoxicated/besotted/giddy

Wordlessly
Tenderly, you take my hand
Raise it to your lips
Gently pressing there
Sweetest kiss full of meaning
As though holding close
Something sacred or rare

Tonight I have become ... The Empress of Jasmine
Surrounded by love
By song
By nature's spicy perfume most exquisite

I am, by far, the wealthiest woman
To ever draw breath
A fortune in treasure untold, I posses
For I have discovered a crown of joy complete
Here with you

Behold - I am she -
The Empress of Jasmine
Elevated to royalty by the
Power of your affectionate regard
Sovereign of this limitless realm of love
My kingdom, no larger than a postage stamp
Yet, my dominion far exceeds the bounds of
Infinite Universe