That Snow

Image via Wikipedia

There is no snow anywhere,
just ice--frozen rain like dried milk that
sticks to my windshield and scraper.
But at the stop sign in the dark of night
are two snow boulders,
as if someone traveling from up north
dropped them off of their vehicle
and went on without noticing.
In the cold dark morning
where I can hardly see to drive
they are like headlights--
a beacon lighting my way.

© Julianne Carlile

That Doll

Image via Wikipedia

That baby doll
with the real eyelashes,
that cooed and wet,
with the velvet sashes,

that Santa for some reason
never brought,
the one I waited for,
for nought,

surpasses all others
through all the seasons:
all memories, all presents,
all dolls, all reasons.

© Julianne Carlile

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Image by blmiers2 via Flickr

I'll try to feel blessed this Thanksgiving Day.
There's really nothing to stand in my way:
the weather's been crisp,
I went to New York.
Now if I can just keep from
dropping my fork.

Just a little ditty for those in the city.

© Julianne Carlile

Here Lives a Dog

Image via Wikipedia

Here lives a dog who by relation,
knows every dog in this
whole nation.
And if I wanted to take
it further,
he knows every dog
over yonder.
But don't let me forget
I live--
every dog is radioactive
and though it seems to some like nought,
can give me more than I
ever thought.

© Julianne Carlile

2011

Counting the Dogs

Image via Wikipedia

This dog wore a sweater,
this dog stayed home,
this dog was given snacks and cheese
but would eat none,
and this dog barked woof woof woof woof
all day long.

This dog jumped into a car
as though it were an adventure,
this dog ran and chased a ball,
this dog was too tired,
and this dog barked woof woof woof woof
all day long.

This dog thought he was a person,
this dog thought he was a cat,
this dog thought he was a dog,
an ordinary dog,
and barked woof woof woof woof
all day long.

© Julianne Carlile

2011

The Bird Man

Image via Wikipedia

The bird man used to ride
around here.
He had a bright red bike
with silver handle bars.
Two birds would ride on the handle bars,
one bird on his head,
one bird on each shoulder,
one bird would ride on the back
and fly and land and fly and land.

I heard one day they just took off.

© Julianne Carlile

Ladybug

Image via Wikipedia

Ladybug, ladybug,
where did you go?
I haven't seen you for years
and I miss you so.

I see your twins,
not as pretty as you.
They are everywhere.
I kill them too.

I remember when you had
in my small glass jar,
so many babies
people came from afar

just to see and admire
all that you do.
I miss you ladybug.
I miss you too.

© Julianne Carlile

2011

My Chihuahua

Image via Wikipedia

He's a cat
in a dog's body.
Tiny, he roars
at everything.
His dainty mouth
and ears,
and feet,
belie the tiger within.
Is he the descendent
of the ancestor
of both the cat and dog?
We are related way back.
He know this
and chases our feet
trying to get back
to where we were the same.

© Julianne Carlile

2010

My Rose

My roses are making their last bloom.
They fight season's end but they show no care
for it, they come on still.
Fewer flowers than first,
but the bush is much bigger and greener as if cursed
in June to look puny.
I took one two days before the first hard frost.
It sat on my table really not looking lost.
And as it opened slowly to its own fullness
winter descended with a great "OH!"
It answered in kind.

© Julianne Carlile

2010

Southern Illinois

How many times my father took us to his home,
the land of his ancestors and of his birth,
so we could get in touch with our past and his:
to love a life gone.
And we saw land more dry and dusty than sand,
filled with not much culture, but farms,
and people as dry and dusty as the land,
as if they rose from it.
Now I go down to the place that he came from,
alone to all the places that he loved,
and find that things have not really changed so much,
except that he's not there.
The family reunion's filled with all his kin.
Young ones keep coming and old ones keep going.
The cemetery keeps growing with those he loved--
the ground cries for him.

© Julianne Carlile

Snot

Image via Wikipedia

I lie awake in my bed
in  between short dozes,
fighting with snot:

dripping from my nose to my ear,

no decongestant, no Nyquil will
absorb this never ending flow--
drowning in snot.

Fourteen blows and it's still there,
surrounded by tissues everywhere--
suffocating in snot.

My ears are ringing; I'm all alone,
no one can see me, no one will come--
my only friend: snot.

© Julianne Carlile

1993