The earth is alive! –
the air filled with the aroma
of blossoms and freshly-cut grass
and vibrating with frog song
The day’s tension eases from me
and I feel myself falling gently
into the soft mother’s arms of spring –
my thoughts opening up, blooming
with the joy of the evening.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Click here to hear tonight’s frog song in our backyard.)
I just posted a poem that had lots of fun words in it
and some politics, too. I was pretty pleased with myself.
But then I read it again and asked myself, “Self,
is this helpful to the world in any way?” And myself
told me no, not really. So dang. Let’s start over…
What can I give to the world today that will be helpful?
I can bring patience when I’m in traffic on my way to work.
I can give a smile to my fellow travelers.
I can bring intelligence to my students and help them
learn a new concept in math or English or science
or social studies or art. I can be kind to my colleagues.
I can be honest. I can be joyful. I can share beauty.
There. That’s better.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
boondoggle chicanery fricassee frack
we’re treating our planet like it’s mere bric-a-brac
brouhaha blunderbuss balderdash trump
are the politicos shrewd or just foolish chumps?
shenanigans skiddaddle kerfuffle flummoxed
some leave with stealth; some because they’re fuxed
cacophony kiester debacle folderol
the last thing we need is to build a wall.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
The Good You Seek
I want to take a break, I said.
Can I step out of life for a moment,
or maybe stay in bed?
Can things go on without me?
Can you just pretend I’m not here?
For life is a messy business
and I’m tired and I’m weary
I’ve made too many mistakes to count today
And I’d like to not make anymore, not any.
And the still small voice reached into my thought
– gentle, peaceable benediction –
“All the good you seek and all that you’ve sought
you can claim right now – and that’s no fiction –
for Love is yours to express, to feel, and to be
– you are wealthy beyond description.
Nothing else matters, there’s no other power
no warring opinions, no need to cower
You are loved and you’re loving
and that’s all there is to it
Love’s loving child, and there’s nothing else
but loving, simply nothing.”
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, *A Poem Lives on My Windowsill*
Day 1
Before we leave on our southerly trip
I take one last walk down the street
A big dog and a Chihuahua race out
from their driveway, snarling and yipping –
the Chihuahua nipping
while their owner watches –
his hands in his pockets – and shrugs
when I show him the little dog’s bite.
I am snarling myself now, in a rage,
adrenalin coursing, ready for a fight.
But it’s time to leave. I carry the bite
and the rage with me – pack them up
for the trip and load them in the car.
Husband stops for a break at a McDonald’s
– asks me if I want anything. I’m not hungry
– but I guess one of those little parfait things
might be good. He orders one for me.
I go outside to wait. A young man approaches,
asking for money. My wallet is locked up
in the car and I have no key. I’m so sorry.
But just then the husband comes out
with my parfait – the one I didn’t really want –
and I offer it to the man – show him the
granola packet he needs to add. He thanks me
and takes it, and as we drive away I see him
mixing in the granola and eating the parfait
and some of my fiery rage slips away.
Bless him for giving me a chance to be kind.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Day 2
We lie in bed together – a luxurious waking up.
We are on vacation – no job to race to today.
I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heart
beat – steady and strong – I breathe in and out
with his breathing and drift back to sleep.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
The ghosts of our past are
getting out of the car
and seeing the ocean
from Lincoln City, Oregon
for the first time.
The ghosts of Oceans Past
are running on the beach –
strong and young, unaware
of the lessons Life will teach,
and innocent of what lies ahead –
both the good and the bad.
The ghosts of the future are
there, too. Wiser than now,
I hope, and stronger, too –
they have seen what we have
not, yet, and learned lessons
and known losses from a day
to come, and experienced
healings yet to be. And today
we’re in the world between
until then and what has been.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Day 3
The birds watch from the brows
of the barnacled boulders
as humans in their exotic plumage –
pink, purple, yellow, orange, red,
scramble among the rock beds,
searching for shells and agates.
The seagulls no longer worry
about the humans taking their food.
The humans don’t seem in the mood
to look for things to eat –
they don’t want the meat
inside the shells, they seek
the shells themselves! They seek
the rocks! They seek the sea glass!
Seagulls sometimes wonder
about humans’ priorities.
Humans are a puzzle.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
I give a thumbs up and a smile
to the man with the veteran’s cap
on his head and a kite tugging
him to the sky.
He smiles back the smile of a man
on vacation – and lets out the string
so the kite can fly high.
A family from Vancouver passes by
the youngster lugging a rock
as big as an anvil – “No, Buddy. I think
you’re going to have to leave that one here,”
says the father to his son, laughing.
A pair of dogs comes up to greet me,
tails wagging, happy grins on their faces
and I reach down and pet their heads
and notice the dog bite is almost gone
from my ankle.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Photos by Karen Molenaar Terrell. Lincoln City, OR.)
I’m sitting at my desk, looking out
my window at the half-moon above
I can hear birds singing out there –
singing in the new day.
The sun hasn’t risen, yet –
but the stage is being set.
There is good waiting for us today.
There will be kindness. There will be
laughter. There will be lessons learned
and there will be forgiveness. There will be
salvation.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
It’s like the night chewed him up and spit him out
on the sidewalk and left him there in a heap
of rags and dirt the next morning. And I ask him
if he’s alright. He shakes his head and rolls
his eyes – he has seen better days. He asks me
if I can bring him a coffee maybe – “A mocha?” I ask.
He says just regular coffee with milk and sugar.
As I leave to buy him the coffee, he calls after me,
“And can you get me an orange, too?”
He could have asked for a fancy coffee with syrup.
He could have asked for a doughnut. Or sweets.
But he asked for a drip coffee and an orange.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
