Brian Holte, OWP 1998

Pentacle of Poems

 

Sneaker Wave

Running, dashing at full speed
the clang of the warning bell
pulling the children toward the shelter.
The swirling wind clashing with the waves,
The feared, foreboding wall of water
Rising, stretching to its full height
a tiger waiting to pounce--
its paw swats, unexpected,
children fight back like dogs,
howling.

 

Lightning Strike

Lightning rears its screaming crackle,
Sends the glorious oak to its knees
Turns to the beckoning kitchen lights
Blows the oven door across the room
Bursts light bulbs into flying shiny shards
Melts switches into blackened lava.
Mute nightmare eyes
Meet those of loved ones
Coax stilled hearts to sound,
Frozen lungs to stretch.
Hands lift as
Grandmother reaches candles to her family.

 

Silent Night

All is lost in the perfect smothering silence
of the frozen winter midnight.
Walker’s boots squeeze and crunch
the fresh snow, heavy
until the snow gathers itself, pushes back.
Black sky perched upon the tall pine tops
betrays nothing of the star party above.
The creek, subdued by freezing air,
a sculpture of a thousand paths.
Tall trees mute and silent telling tales
that might have been, that may be.
The great owl’s assumed presence
unsettles steps, hunches shoulders.
Sound does not rescue the listener.

 

Baby Boy

Upon your mother’s breast you rest.
Take refuge in your new
desert world
Unattached for the first time
Embraced for the first time.
Nine hours warning
Nine months growing
Nine years longing
You are water that is stilled
You are embers
glowing through the night You are wind
whispering that
You are our budded rose
rising from our roots.

 

Koosah Falls, McKenzie River

Wisps of mist rise
into a dozen shafts of sunbeam
filtered by the mesh of
ancient trees/ ancient canyon.
A trickle, three streams, and a wall of water
all descend
in slow motion/ the eye
wedded to a single drop
that chooses one of five or six paths
down the mountainside of the boulder
waiting in the pool below.
Toward the constant roar
a single spider balloons,
its silk guy line trailing
joins the air show of flying wings
tiny as water drops, back lit
and downstage from the main attraction.
The fragrance of sun-warmed pine needle,
red-brown/ vibrant moss green/ sky blue
frame the flowing river tumbling
bubbling downstream.
The gently bowed scaled leaves of
the green cedar bough
three feet away
finally come into focus.