“Winter”

Winter

Bleak September rain 

     washes away the end of Summer…

Damp, Barber winds bluster and 

     carry away warm Summer breezes…

The hastening dance of days

     runs ever shorter in fall of Autumn color…

Brittle, dry, crackling leaves 

     fly, dance, shutter, and fall…

Fragile, crumbling refuse 

     of warmer, brighter days.

Cold winds blow,

     snaking round every corner…

Swirling, seeping, sneaking
     into every chilly nook and bower…

Breathing frigid fractals

     ‘pon the frosted windowpane…

Slithering, plundering warmth 

     and weak, dreary daylight…

From hyperboreal frozen,

     merciless, snowbound nights.

Winds howl and souls cower

     ‘neath the crawling, creeping glacial rictus…

Buried in the icy grip 

     of desolate, frozen Winter.

by D. Denise Dianaty

© 12 September 2014

Pick up your own copy of my first 
book of poetry at My Life In Poetry

Words

A poem about the power of words giving birth to poetry. Words matter. They have the power to tear down, to destroy; words can cut deeply. But, words also have the power to heal, to create, to uplift; words can be a beacon to a better future. 

The beauty in words…

Even through darkness…

Dark words seek… find light…

To carry light out of darkness.

Words to hurt

Words to heal

Words destroy

Words create

In the space between…

In the mind’s eye…

Wrenched from the void…

Forming reality of words…

Words to hurt

Words to heal

Words destroy

Words create

On flight of words…

On the precarious summit…

On the razor’s edge…

That’s where poetry is born.

by D. Denise Dianaty

© 05 September 2014

Mother Lost

An old poem from my undergrad days, of discovering buried memories in therapy – from a different time before my mother lost herself, abandoned by a patriarchy that understood nothing and cared even less.

Mother Lost

In her young heart she loved

She wanted nothing more than to give love

She wanted children, a crowd about her

A song unique for each bright star

She loved her babies, sang her joy

Gently cuddled and held them safe

Three times with ease brought to life

Blest gifts, her fair headed delights

Then came the fourth, hard fought

Ripped from her body, at last

With all  her might, the last dram of heart

At last, brought through alive

Why to look upon that face

What darkness left behind

A burden, a sorrow, each shining bright face

Take and take and take and take

Nothing more she wants now, save death

Oh no, say the doctors, the nurses, the society

Lock her away till she learns to lock down her pain

Don’t guide her back through to the light

No more songs, joyless duty and burden are hers

Her anger, her blackened soul, 

Locked behind closed doors

It’s not our concern

Send her home to her babies

No matter their plight

ABOUT MOTHER IN THIS POEM: She was so very different, so loving and attentive before all the pain, that I actually blocked out those good memories for decades -- they were just too painful to recall in light of how bad things got. The thing that always hurts me most, though, is that my two sisters who were already born, when she had the last baby, were too young to retain any of those good memories; and the baby sister never knew that loving and attentive mother at all.

Twelve years she was lost in her madness, torturing her children. The same children she'd pined for and dreamed of since adolescence; she'd only ever wanted to be a wife and mother. See, she was born blind and had to be sent off to a school for the blind, away from her family; she gained her sight later. She grew up very disconnected from them. When she was home, she was the poor little blind girl whom they all coddled and cosseted -- but never connected on a fundamental level. She wanted that closeness of family for herself and her children. That might be the most tragic thing about my childhood… the poisoning of her dream.

Still… If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change anything; everything that happened made the person I am, gave me this “now.” I’d suffer every indignity, every torment again not to miss out on my “now.” Embrace the Joy!

by D. Denise Dianaty
© 20 August 2014

North Carolina Home Sweet Home

North Carolina images from mountain to shore

North Carolina Home Sweet Home
An homage to the North Carolina I’ve always known

Awake to a painted morning sky

Filled w’scent of magnolia and Carolina pine

Reveling in a sun-drenched landscape

Of blossoming hydrangea and myrtle, crape

With azalea blossoms and fragrant rose

Wild jasmine and hyacinth perfume kiss th’nose.

Climbing honeysuckle n’bumblebees

‘Neath sheltering oak and towering maple trees

Mountain to coast steeped in mythic lore

Where ev’ry native road leads to the shore

From homes of native red earthy brick.

A gentle, misty Southern wisdom flows thick

Wreathes the Grandfather’s Mountain spaces

Teaching unspoken lessons for the ages

Life is not hurrying – but sav’ring

In this place… this home ever unwavering

God-kissed from misty mountain to roiling shore

This North Carolina home sweet home we adore.

D. Denise Dianaty

© 01 November 2015

Pick up your own copy of my first book of poetry, entitled My Life In Poetry at D. Denise Dianaty