Handprints

For the people in my life, two in particular, that have made a difference to me


I plaster five-year old handprint in a circle
While pencil-finger scribbles my name
Present it to you like an ancient fossil
Make little girl love the frame

I paint adolescent handprint on scholastic wall
The swirls have stretched like the soul they’re sewn to
Elongated fingers self-discovery in sharpie scrawl
Placing me only brush strokes away from you

I place grown girl handprint in the air
Hoping somehow to leave one meaningful mark
A personal part of me that I can share
My lighted candle in the dark

~DaLe 12/30/08

Arctic Postcard

I count button holes as if they mattered
I’m always one off despite my efforts
Sitting inside bundled up and tattered
It’s November and I’m wearing shorts

Wood floors remind me my feet are cold
My favorite socks now have holes
Humanity’s story is being retold
I can feel run-down emptiness in my sole.

I read captions now because I can’t hear
As the sounds fade to a whisper in the wind
I’m transfixed by my portrait in the mirror
Leaving my postcard to you never to send

Dear nobody I’m writing to you
Wishing you’d listen to my song
Who you are I wish I knew
I’ve been counting button holes for far too long

~DaLe 12/28/08

When Robert Talked

When Robert talked of paths I don’t think he saw mine
I’ve taken his two and cubed it, added a detour sign
I sit at the mileage marker, stare at optional ends
But know I will never predict where each timely bends

I wear jaded eternity on a string about my neck
Cling to destination unjaded by unending trek
Hoping the proximity will give my heart direction
I clutch forever, take a breath of hesitation

The Frosty morning knows no way is evil
Each alley I could take distinguished but equal
Scared to disturb treading undergrowth
I wonder which leaves will differ me the most

~DaLe 12/28/08

Nativity

Yellowed page and carved wood
Minuted moments quietly understood:
the hope of unending space wrapped
in Love found in a faithful mother’s lap
the power to change in every swaddling band
keeping warm my sin—graven in innocent hand.
The care found in The Shepherd’s crook’d staff
To search me out when I crawl crooked path.
The strength audible in winged carol
to give thankful praise in potent peril.
determined sacrifice guides my journey from afar
to take me to Him—my bright, new star.

~DaLe 12/25/08

Sisters

For my Sister

A Word
A thought
A mere memory
Yet all the years
I pointedly see
You’d laugh
I’d cry
I’d laugh
You’d cry
You got older
So did I
Without an explanation
Truly of why
The Barbies were put away
So were the blocks
We no longer analyzed neighbor’s rocks
We both had struggles
And over-achieved
How we survived
No one still believes.
Those were the days
We screamed and fought
All hopes of friendships
We feared were lost
Then one day
No one can say when
We put all away
Childish things again
Found in each other
Much more than Barbie or Ken
Found in a sister: deep love
A best friend.

~DaLe

Window Pain

White moments become white blankets
Covering past secrets in serenading flight
All the past clings to the present
In a gentle, quilted night.
Straw stitches are scented with humanity
But blown about by immortality
The rebirth of winter melts the ice
Of blanketed boughs reaching for light
Dormant sunbeams reflect in the seams
As heated breaths dance
slowly ascending into nothingness

~DaLe 12/15/08

The Swan Reflection

Her grace could never really be disputed
by any lover of beautiful things.
Yet, she is deeper than the shallow pond they place herwithin.
The fog is her's--a solemn tribute
to her keen knowledge of ugliness.
She has been passed by Bohemian eyes,
learned to friendship forested loneliness,
and she has spent summers staring at reflection
Firmly believing the beauty was found in her soul
reached by the gray-green of her endless eyes.
But awkward adolescence felt like unwarranted transgression.

So although breath-taking beauty has come
she still glides gracefully alone
and as the orange fog ascends away,
the warmth of future life finally shown
does not have quite the strength to lift her neck.
The fear of white feathers not rainbow soul being loved
keeps her quietly staring at the setting of another day.

~DaLe 12.2.08

Drapeless Windows

Midnight moments melt
finding purpose in sound
fatigued fascination is felt
hesitated connection is found
speak. pause. glance.

minutes become miles walked
thoughts pedestaled tall
like elongated morning-shadowed
immovable posture while analogs crawl
pause. glance. speak

abrupt morning caused quiet
forces dream to translate time
emotion enhances mortal sight
smile becomes silent mime
glance. speak. pause.

~DaLe 11/30/08

Soldiers of a King

Will I shrink from fear or join the cause
Of the battle that goes on each day?
Will I give way to defeat or protect myself
And arm myself as I pray?
I will shod my feet and gird up my loins
With truth and the preparation of peace
I’ll place a helmet on head and a
Shield on heart as his righteous and salvation I seek
I’ll study his word and take up my sword
And fall in ranks with the meek.

Then when my call will come
I’ll stand prepared
Ready to do my part
I’ll stick my name tag on my breastplate
And imprint his name in my heart
Many are called but I’ve been chosen to go
His love and good tidings sing
Whether the battlefield or the mission field
I am a soldier of a king.

~DaLe (October 2007)
Written about 8 months ago

Dear Janis Ian,

Little girls often dream
Of the beautiful age of nineteen
When they reach it they’re surprised
To find imagination was full of lies

Daddy’s girls believe in knights
That magic is what holds up kites
Every knight’s armor will fall away
Like cut kites covered in clay

Grown girls still want fairytales
To know that goodness always prevails
Dreams live in clouds, girls in reality
But its cloud watching that gives clarity

~DaLe 11/17/08

Silent Opus

This poem is dedicated to one of the greatest women I have ever met:
Gwen Denton (March 7, 1942-April 3, 2008)

Careful tiny fingers fall
Slip on black and ivory meter
The scaled curls learn to recall
Perfect practice the teacher

Dead men come trilling into breath
Soft clicks echoing step
Softer touch marking depth
As ten stir the dust that slept

Hours compose degrees
Trained lullabies as company
Yet, worldly grandeur flees
Traded for a tiny curtsy

Careful tiny fingers fall
Slip on blackened ivory meter
The scaled love allows my recall
Silent music--still the teacher

~DaLe 11/11/08

La flaque d'Éponine

Dark slick slabs echo
Lonely laughter of light poles
Buried passions let go
Fall into canvassed souls

Patterned painted lines
Force forte ed thought
Cold cinderblock resigns
Into star-reflected clocks

Breath hurricanes into being
Clouding calculated silence
Twilight’s fingers allow seeing
Coupled with soothing fragrance

~DaLe 11/09/08

Autumn Sidewalks

The senses prickle
Picking memories, like black berries
The cold sunset warms them into color.
Threading the past with golden rain
Soaking, my spirit with reverie
Engulfing my emotions, with longing
Past crunches with present leaves,
Allowing perfect closed-eyed perspective
Fresh, beginnings smell like Falling breezes
That allow untouched skin to sense, itself,
My soul is whole for a rushing while
Allowing cherry blossoms to bloom, internally
Juices falling tangibly onto anxious tongue,
Bliss becomes coherent cacophony,
Catching tension like trinkets
In the pocket of my childhood,
Imagination is grasped in my open fist
Dreams dance around the strands of flaxen hair
For one instant this prickled life makes sense

~DaLe 10/28/08

(Dis)illusions of Gratitude

Thanks be given for things that exasperate—
Fall’s overcast occasions of morning
Sunrise birds bidding beauteous day
Prying people innocently pride infiltrate
Love’s cliché budded roses thorning
Internal thoughts throating ignorantly stay

All experiences straining, stressing, reviled
Moments growing with grace o’er flowing
Alter oblivious ignorance into altruistic ways
For things that thoughtless ego exiles
(I say thanks today)

~DaLe 10.26.08

One Eternal Round

Darkness surrounds
Tears fall down
Doubts confound
Silence makes sound
Surrender is crowned
Light is drowned
Embrace the ground
Hope is found
Wounds are bound
Truth expounds
Illumination abounds

~DaLe 10.22.08 at 1:44am

The Apple Tree

By day and night
Upon her he called
Said he had eyes for no other
Twas only she that filled his sight
And begged to be her lover

Poor, Adele, blushed with each word
He made her heart enthralled
The thought of life filled her soul
As slowly desire cankered
And gave the boy his goal

Fair Adalee saw his plot
Heard as he nightly called
Begged for her sister to see the truth
To not allow her fancies to be caught
And throw away her youth

“Adalee,” young Adele said,
“you needn’t be appalled,
He loves me like Adam loved Eve”
But still Adalee pled
But no evil from him could Adele conceive

Then one still night
Out the window she crawled
Slid down the blooming apple tree
Rushed off in the twilight
And gave to him her body

She reappeared at dawn
Her virtue departed and bald
Climb back up with smirk and smile
Let out a little yawn
And waited for night at its wiles

Adalee could see the deed that was done
That virtue had been mauled
But loved her sister none-the-less
Invited her to their dear garden
Adele followed—waited for night’s redress

Then when the moon shone
The handsome voice was un-called
Silence seen outside the window
Pressed against it alone
Adele sat until the morning cockcrow

Day after day Adele searched for Matt
Days of lust recalled
Her heart and purity all but gone
She never moved but quietly sat
Shedding a tear for every dawn

Adalee saw her pain
Saw the heart of her sister galled
Left the house with a fury
Determined to find a man with a healing name
And went on her way in a hurry

She wore a beautiful dress
And passed Matt’s window as she trod
He looked and loved her instantly
Longed her skin to caress
And she looked back apathetically

He knelt at her feet pleading
Hoping she would not see he was flawed
She smiled at him and ignored his hand
Turned from him unheeding
While grasping all his heart’s desperate strands

“You are nothing,” Adalee laughed,
“The road of worthless sin you trod
My pure heart could never love you”
The rejection left him bereft
And he hung himself from an aspen log

Adalee continued on her search for a man
The Prince of Peace he was called
Brought him home to give Adele love
“Heal her broken heart if you can,”
Adalee pleaded, “and give it back to him above”

He took her wounds and cleansed them all
Out of darkness, her heart, he called
Gave her back her Garden youth
Broke down her sinner’s wall
With his doubled-edged sword of truth

Both Adalee and her sister Adele
Tell their tale when they are so called
Of faults, mistakes, and charity
And the slippery road that so easily leads to Hell
But, above all, of The Prince who gives eternal purity

~DaLe 10.20.08 at 11:40pm

Emmaus

A dirty shoe
A bucket of nails
A worn penny or two

A boat with ripped sails
A broken glass
A book of lost tales

A light with no flash
A heart long forgotten
A crimson sash

A man that is broken
A pile of dust
An unrepaired token

A life of disgust
A worn road
A wondering trust

A heavy load
A willing friend
An emptiness swallowed

A God to transcend
A soul to mend
A love without end

~DaLe 10.12.08

1:15 A.M.

I miss you so much I miss myself
I’m ready to plunge off sanity’s shelf
Into the dark depths of quiet abyss
And lovingly grip my loneliness
My arms have been empty for far too long
Remnants that remain make stirring wrong

I pledge to not drop tears on holy page
Yet, fortitude can not frailty assuage
Laughter has become a sardonic sense
Replaced by bitter recompense
I long for remnants of identity
But when you went away, you also took me

~DaLe 10.02.08 at 3:59pm

Unamed Italien Sonnet

Dreaming has become but second to me
The color of your eyes a brighter hue
Even with distance my heart still sees you
Like waves from a ripple out on the sea
Cutting corded qualms to let me be free
And as the bright morning welcomed by dew
Your softest touch lets me know night is through
You call my name and all second thoughts flee
Replaced by soul’s wings that live in your heart
I soar when adoration is returned
And sink into gray when we two are apart
For you unknown my soul has always yearned
I have been destined for you from the start
I still can’t believe this love is returned

~DaLe 10.01.08 at 8:26pm

Couchant

Apathy is my sanctuary
Your severed sympathies are gone
Spring has lost its beauty
Replaced by sinking dawn

I treasured feeling deeply
The fatal mask of faith fell on
But I’ve surrendered to my belfry
To play my mourning song

A life has died—hear the bell cry
Emotion replaced by motion
Neutrality the reason why
Mind gave way to incessant erosion

Heart does not move nor is eye dreary
While I am left with mem’ry to build upon
Past paints future's picture clearly
The entirety of color is withdrawn

~DaLe 09.30.08 at 4:26pm

Happiness in Love: A Sonnet

What is love but an eternal friendship?
Tied with pure bonds of sacrifice and truth
Each small moment tightens affection’s grip
Offers my heart the happy zeal of youth
My heart beats alone to hear thy heart sound
A syncopated assessment to my thought
Of pure admiration that knows no bound
But exponentially expands my lover’s lot
The language of soul I’ve learned to translate
Through pure joy’s liberating looking glass
Which smoothes my reflection ‘til the lines are straight
In a path that leads to your arms at last
You have released the tide and set me free
Because you decided to love me for me
~DaLe 09.27.08 at 8:13pm

Emotion is Free

I’m missing your ghost--does he even exist?
Or maybe it’s you I’m starting to miss
The hallways and walkways are paved with our past
Does anything but winter have strength to last?

I slow dance alone and clutch to this space
As I run solo in this marathon race
If I go to sleep will you come be with me?
Because it’s here in our dreams that emotion is free

So I’ll check off my lists and count seconds in twos
Smile at strangers and pretend that they’re you
I’ll watch the sun rise and watch the sun set
And suppress inner voices that scream my regret

I slow dance alone and clutch to this space
As I run solo in this marathon race
If I go to sleep will you come be with me?
Because it’s here in our dreams that emotion is free

I’ve made up my mind to change everything
Chopped off my hair and picked sad songs to sing
I put on my socks that don’t purposefully match
And found a replacement for my broken heart’s latch

I slow dance alone and clutch to this space
As I run solo in this marathon race
If I go to sleep will you come be with me?
Because it’s here in our dreams that emotion is free

It’s here in our dreams that emotion is free

~DaLe 09.25.08 at 10:28pm

The Easy Way

I know lots of you might find this offensive, but it's how I feel.

To justify a heinous crime
And give the sin no consequence
Mortally refuse God recompense
And mock eternal law sublime

Nine month wait for Armageddon
Murder on the streets of infant soul
Pleasure not love the coupled goal
Does law’s soldiers her choice deaden?

Birth and death are her synonyms
Playing the role of God her sick game
Refuses to take the Father’s name
Freedom of choice her euphemism

The fight against death continues
As she secretly does her deed
Her moral chains have been freed
She bids promised life adieu

~DaLe 09.21.08 at 9:39pm

Covergirl

(Conscious Imitation of Alfred Lord Tennyson's "The Lotos-Eaters")

Uniquely she enters the basement room
Empties her pockets of probing success
The air she breathes emanates perfect perfume
Her tinkling laugh flowers her finesse
The ungodly her mere presence does suppress.
Others long for her organized splendor
Hold the sin, envy--her mind could never transgress
She is the flawless knight of truth, his defender
His pattern of precision she will always render

There is a great blessing in being me
In never creating any fault nor sin
I am loved by humanity in every degree
My beauty is not transparent but worn on my skin
I inspire happiness with my sight
My efforts bring motivation for life to light
Mortal minds of millions I ignite
I have been told my face is a work of art
Every brush stroke sets my colors apart.
Like VanGough my masterpiece speaks to man’s heart
My technique of application of beauty is what I impart.
~DaLe 09.14.08 at 12:44am

Mormon Girl- A Conscious Imitation of "Girl" by Jamaica Kincaid

I don't know how many of you have read the original, but it's one of the most creative pieces of writing I have ever read. I took her work, and turned it into the same thing, but LDS style, using the same syntax and such. I think it turned out pretty good.

Wash the children’s clothes on Saturday and put them on their beds; wash your clothes on Monday, and place them on hangers to dry; don’t wear short-shorts in the summer sun; cook funeral potatoes in very sharp cheddar cheese; soak stained clothes right after you spill food on; when buying fabric to make daughters a prom dress, be sure that it is sturdy, because that way it will dry-clean after a dance; crock-pot stew overnight before you serve it; is it true that you sing The Osmonds in Sunday School? Never eat your food in a deacon way that it makes the Sisters gossip; on Sundays try to dress in your best, and not like the whore the world is bent on you becoming; don’t sing The Osmonds in Sunday School; You mustn’t date before you’re sixteen or shallow boys will follow you; but I don’t sing The Osmonds on Sundays at all and never in Sunday School; this is how you cross-stitch; this is how you find a frame for the pattern you just cross-stitched; this is how you bend down to see if your hem is to short so you don’t become the whore the world is bent on you becoming; this is how you iron your husband’s white shirt so that the collar doesn’t stick up; this is how you iron your husband’s suit pants so that they have a crease; this is how you grow food storage for the family, because obedience brings blessings; when you are growing corn, make sure you are humble and thank God while you are eating it; this is how you quilt a corner; this is how you quilt an entire blanket; then you should give it to someone else; this is how you pray for someone that you don’t like too much; this is how you serve someone you don’t like at all; this is how you love someone you forgive completely; this is how you bring your children to dinner; this is how you make memories at dinner; this is how you set the table for dinner with the missionaries; this is how you pack a sack for lunch; this is how you cook your teenagers in seminary breakfast; this is how you act at all times, all things, and in all places so that men won’t think of you as the whore the world laughs at you becoming; make sure to be clean always, even if it sacrifices popularity; never talk during a fireside, you are not a deacon, you know; don’t gossip on people’s lives, you might hurt someone; never think judgments about people, because you are not perfect at all; this is how you make jell-o pudding; this is how to make orange rolls; this is how you nurture flower pots; this is how you nurture a child with a cold; this is how you make a good memory to treasure a child before it becomes an adult; this is how you pass a test; this is how to change a grade you don’t like, and that way integrity will imprint on you; this is how to find a good man; this is how a good man finds you; this is how you marry a man, and if that doesn’t work, don’t give up, this is God’s only way; this is how to have joy if you desire to, and this is how to find it again if it disappears from you; this is how debt creates tragedy; always qualify for a current temple recommend to make sure God knows you’re worthy; but what if God doesn’t think you’re worthy? You mean to believe that after all you are going to be the kind of Saint that God won’t let into his temple?
~DaLe 09.01.08 at 4:45pm

What You Still Do

I gave the pieces of my heart away
That broke when they hit the hard ground today,
Deep in a warped drawer I hope to forget
Are emotions I felt that just don’t fit.
I burned the mem’ries in love’s fake flame
I rid myself of you but feel the same.

Chorus:
Every minute changes us
Every moment alters us
I peel myself down to nothing
Thinking I’ll finally be me
But all my reflections see
Are Apparitions of you
I wish you knew what you still do

I was the monarch of my life
Sat in you in the highest chair of honor
Then you pulled out your betraying knife
Like Brutus stabbed my back in honor
Of the country your mind resides in
I’ve confronted my friend Dante

And you’ll be paying for your sin.

Chorus

Break:
To hold your favor--a selfish notion
That gave rise to inflated hollow dreams.
You never condoned feeling emotion,
But you didn’t unstitch the soul-made seams

So please admit that
Every minute changed us
Every minute altered us
I’ve peeled myself down to nothing
Praying I’d finally be me
But all my broken heart will ever see
Are apparitions of you
I wish you knew
I think you know
You’ve always known
What you still do
~DaLe 04.09.08

The Nature of Shadow

A meaningless corner
Adjacent to scarlet brick
The lone companion of long
Stretching winter shadows
Neither cohort befriends
The dormant frosty sun.
They single out a meaningless
Plant longing for light
Detesting the intangible iceberg
Green has faded to black
Hopelessly stagnant inside
Shadows

A Budding young man called Jon
Planted next to third world hesitation
Mocked by confusing shadows
Unable to melt the frost off
His dormant rays of intellect
He must only walk
Abandon dim paralysis
He is young, green
And rooted in
Shadows
~DaLe 04.09.08

Sad Things: A Slam Poem

I have a girl in my Creative Writing Class that keeps telling me that I am weird because I like sad things: Poems, songs, movies, stories...etc. I had to write something for class...and this is what came out.

I like sad things.

I like the perspective that they bring to this world

that hurls happy endings

upon men like

volcanic basalt bombs.

I like depressing songs

that make you want to cry

even if you don’t understand

the reason why the artist raised paper to pen

and forced the manufactured ink

to express what he was too unassuming

to confess to one person but shares

with a thousand sighing fans.

I like it when a man cries

because it shows that he is willing to put aside the notion that emotion from the male gender is stupid.

To be sad is human,

and there are those hollow moments in the middle of the dark

when The Truman show is our reality

and this life is a conspiracy against us—the unsuspecting victim

of silent suffering.

Millions of innocent suffer every day,

and a person dies with every word I say—I don’t mean to give away

the ending, but all people have to suffer

the will of Death.

Like Emily Dickinson, we sit next to him

in a carriage and watch our life from marriage to birth

and then our worth will be decided upon

one basis.

Did we learn from the sad things?

Did the sorrow bring us to our knees

in pleading

for a way to stay the hand of corrosion

for just

one

moment?

Did the pain make us stand up

and speak up

for the orphans without a voice?

You see, you and I, we have a choice

every minute of every day

to go along with our merry way of oblivious harmony

and refuse

to see the heartache of the downtrodden.

Like Marie Antoinette

do we let those that starve

have their cake

and tell them to eat it too,

when all they really need is

a new pair of shoes?

Do we let those that starve in their soul

be alone

with nothing to console them

but Death

and his fine ride?

Oh no,
we can not put away the sad things.

Man must sing.

Man must cry.

He must ask God, “why”.

And if exhalation

is the goal he has for his soul,

then the answer to his wrenching cry is to find God

among the sad things of this world.

Don’t hurl false ignorant bliss

that will destroy.

Instead

learn from sadness

to find joy.

~DaLe 02.20.08

Grocery List

You keep telling these lies
I’m tired of the falsehoods
That are pulling a veil over my eyes
I’d leave if I could
But you seem to draw me in with a glance
Smiling obliviously in this game
This never-ending dance
Has me acting the same
Way I always do—like a fool.
Explain to me why I scare you
But yet you pull
Let go at the last second
Realizing that I’m not what you want after all
Not even offering your hand
And after all of this you have the gall
To still turn to me and smile
And helplessly I smile back
Hoping that in awhile
I will be over this—over you
You still have no idea what you do
This naïve girl’s helpless heart
She herself tears apart
Hoping to find an explanation of why
She keeps getting dropped
Liked a feather in the sky
Carelessly blown from man to man
Each pretend to care who I am
But in the end brush me off too
Well, nothing is new
You’re still the same old you
And even when you said your first hello
I knew it was only a matter of time
Before you would go
And these lines are all I have to show
Because of my silly girlish ways
They are culminating to say
I guess I’m moving on.
~DaLe 01.5.08 at 11:08pm