Monday, November 9, 2020

Little by Slowly

Little by Slowly

Bob Komives
 
 


          November, 2016


I inch upward

little by slowly

from this ledge

near bottom

in this abyss

where earth gave way beneath me--

dropping further than I thought my land could drop.



I look up,

see a climb that will outlive me,

take notice in the dim

of varied walls and sides surrounding:

good sides,

bad sides,

sides with sheared and slippery walls,

sides where I could sculpt and garden,

sides where (little by slowly)

others climb.

They rise from below me.

They lead the way--way above me.

They pause alone to sculpt and garden.

Little by slowly

I shall climb to those nearby:

to those who will outlive abyss,

to those who will pull and push my old bones,

to those who need my stubbornness,

and to those who will feast from my memory

of what was earth above

before collapse.   


           November, 2020


Despite shrinking time and diminished strength,

I have returned 

from the abyss where earth gave way beneath me--

from where I looked up

to a climb I expected to outlive me.


There were shadows and voices

rising from below,

clinging above.

Sunken-but-strong

they would soothe then scold,

come then go,

pull then push.

They would ask then remind

of my memory 

of what was earth before collapse.

 

Little by slowly,

(so little so slowly)

(remote then sudden)

at brink

onto edge

I stand to see

beyond abyss

the great expanse

where

(both changed)

(both enhanced)

reality and memory now dance.






Fort Collins (c) 2020 :: Little by Slowly :: 1615

Friday, June 19, 2020

.LET THIS BE THE RAIN.





.
.




.LET THIS BE THE RAIN.
.
.NOW HERE.
.
.FOR US OF THIRST.
.
.THE REFRESHMENT COME.
.
.HERE NOW.
.
.IN FERTILE GROUND.



.LET THIS BE THE RAIN. 
Bob Komives





Fort Collins © 2020 :: .LET THIS BE THE RAIN. :: 2007

Friday, June 5, 2020

A Morning Among These Days





As a morning among these days ends,

a few blocks from our home
a peaceful protest march begins and ends.

As friends and neighbors march,
we stay home to mourn
a sudden, profound grief for loss of a friend.

News of death came unanticipated as we celebrated.
Separate but included,
we participated in a grandson's Continuance
from his 8th grade to high school.

Before this joy 

(and for a third time in three days)
we awoke to a joy: 
news of a newborn among friends and family.

Joy
then joy 
then mourning.

(Half of one day.)

A morning among these days has ended.


A Morning Among These Days 
Bob Komives





Fort Collins © 2020 :: A Morning Among These Days :: 2006



Saturday, May 30, 2020

Where is the Way?






An innocent man, Mr. George Floyd:
murdered by someone sworn to protect.
An old-old pharmacy called Lloyd's:
(where I shopped as a kid and once stole a Coca-Cola)
burnt to the ground.
A healthy baby is born
not far from where a virus patient has died.
A seed sprouts.
A beautiful, small bird nibbles at the feeder
as I grieve for the smaller and the larger community
into which I was born.
Family and friends grieve for their innocent loved one.
They are angry.
Angry neighbors protest and march, but ...
Near and distant strangers protest and march, but ...
Two astronauts get to orbit, but ...
They and their families feel proud and relieved, but ...
A grieving nation seeks a sliver of space
a sliver of time to feel good.
New parents can only rejoice.
They do rejoice, but ...
A family tries to grieve together, alone, but ...
A gardener sees the sprout
but feels drained of all power to rejoice.
Everywhere, a smile feels irreverent.
A tear barely dampens the mask.
Exercise fails to exorcise.
Sleep brings no more than another day.
Where is the way?
Where is the way?
Where is the way? 



Where is the Way?  
Bob Komives




Fort Collins © 2020 :: Where is the Way? :: 2005

Is This a True Spring?









A little drizzle, some sun;
a little rain, a rainbow, some thunder;
the fertile aroma of green.
Here, where plains meet the Front Range,
is this a true spring that comes to replace
our annual war between winter and summer?
Should I refuse to enjoy the gift?
It may be Global Warming trying to buy my vote.
Or, perhaps I should not look to find conspiracy.
Indeed, this may be but a random gift of nature
given here only once or twice in a lifetime.
As I take another deep breath,
I live to believe the latter.













Is This a True Spring?
Bob Komives




Fort Collins © 2020 :: Is This a True Spring? :: 2004

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Humid Morning on Arid Land





Is this that now hovers
the awaited rain
that will soon descend
to draw our thirst
before refreshment comes to ground?

Or is this no more than past rain that rises
and lingers a while to taunt our thirst
before our fertility departs? 









Humid Morning on Arid Land
Bob Komives




Fort Collins © 2020 :: Humid Morning On Arid Land :: ,8004

Sunday, May 24, 2020

Footwear





on glare ice flourish

           —if on skates

flounder

           —if in shoes

die there

           —on bare feet



ice or snow

sand or rock

moss or grass

pavement, man-made



oh, groundplain, hold us

           —if well shod—

and blame footwear for each fall






Footear
Bob Komives


Fort Collins © 2020 :: Footwear :: 2005

Begat





Energy begat matter.
Matter begat life.
Life begat knowledge.
Knowledge begat culture.
Then culture begat.











Begat
Bob Komives




Fort Collins © 2020 :: Begat :: ,8001

Sunday, April 26, 2020

11:59

11:59PM, April twenty-fifth, 2020 
 
From playing bridge with you on the web, 
to reading the Life of Mahatma Gandhi with you 
     and watching a fun movie,
to our conversation over sprouting clover, 
to our socially distanced beverage-and-snack around the patio, 
to my shouts and your responses across the street, 
to our digital exchanges, 
to our greetings and smiles as you passed by, 
I had a great day today.
Please
(if you can identify)
hug yourself 
and accept this humble "thank you." 
 

 
 
11:59
Bob Komives
 
 
 
::  Fort Collins © 2020  ::  11:59  ::  2004  ::
 

Saturday, April 25, 2020

Ganas




Yesterday's easy task,
—a bother to do—
—important to do—
remains undone.
Yesterday's task,
—yet more difficult today—
—yet more important tomorrow—
Dismay.
Task has grown.
I have withered.

Ganas
Bob Komives


Fort Collins © 2012 :: Ganas :: 0704

Moment of Exception

'tis useless to feel useless,
not helpful to feel helpless,
ever more weakening to feel powerless,
spineless to cast blame.
Yet is it not healthful to allow this moment of exception?
I listen in isolation as people I do not know die
isolated from those who do know and love them.
I read of others (too-distant to be neighbors) 
now torn apart then cast together by a tornado.
I watch a tragic movie, 'Planet of the Humans'
feeling useless, helpless, 
powerless--except to cast blame.
 
Moment of Exception
Bob Komives 
 
 
::  Fort Collins © 2020  ::  Moment of Exception  ::  2003  ::

Monday, April 6, 2020

Generation






Your hands are already longer.
In not long,
yes,
you too will be the stronger.
I look forward
to when you help me understand
later news,
science,
art,
and, perhaps,
to when you craft something so good
of paper or wood
that our good names belong
side-by-side,
there inscribed,
until whenever,
or until no longer
never far apart. 

Generation
Bob Komives



  ::  Fort Collins © 2020  :: Generation  ::  2002  ::

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

When I Need a Visitor





When I need a visitor:

     By day,

     by season,

     with no qualm

     no hesitation,

     with license from all authority,

sun comes into my home

to play a play that gives me joy.

      


When I Need a Visitor
Bob Komives



Fort Collins © 2020  :: When I Need a Visitor  ::  2001