At Sea
Rochelle Hope Mehr
You write something.
Do you expect to right something?
Do you expect to heal the world?
If a word could undo pain...
You turn the phrase over and over,
Twist the sinews to try to regain
Mastery after the syncope
Throttles the bos’n.
What control is left?
Can you regain your rigging?
Nostalgia
Rochelle Hope Mehr
I looked at the crows
and envied them.
They stopped time
with a toss of glossy heads.
With a flap of graphite wings
they flew off.
Release
Rochelle Hope Mehr
I heard the silences and they shook me,
More than the tessitura of the age.
I stood back and felt the overtones rage --
The implicit took me out of my cage.
The trial and the error of my ways,
Haunting metaphors not to be assuaged,
The open book hooking me deep within,
The curious fancy set on the page.
Between the commonplace and genius lies
A neutral ground. Could it be anchorage?
Rest on the meridian and time dies,
Light flies, but where is the umbrage?
False Expectations
Rochelle Hope Mehr
I sat there trying to convince myself
it meant something to be published in the
poetry anthology along with
all of the eminent people who
wrote their own biographical sketches
in the back.
I sat there and tried and tried to convince
myself it meant that I had arrived but
then I started reading the poems and
wondered why they lied.
At the Italian Restaurant
Rochelle Hope Mehr
I wanted so much
to believe in something
good and pure and simple
the gleam of sheer delight
emanating from the three-year-old
perched on her father’s lap
the expectation of bliss
awaiting her vanilla ice cream
as we all crooned
"Happy Birthday!"
in a restaurant
a public place
she had us all
eating out of the palm
of her hand
as she licked and licked
Well-Worn
Rochelle Hope Mehr
Sick and crapped up
For the moment
I’d still rather be myself
Than any one of those I’ve spoken to
Judging me
With their propped-up propriety,
Their regal highnesses
Putting my in my place.
Sick as I am
I’d still rather be myself --
Lonely and afraid,
Chiseled and frayed.
Apprehension
Rochelle Hope Mehr
A not-so-pleasant discovery
I made about myself:
I want to be in complete control
of my destiny.
Nothing unforeseen
Should happen to me.
Even something good.
The unfamiliar frightens me,
Shakes me up through my roots.
I want to hang on to the familiar.
I don’t want to be uprooted
I don’t want to be shaken up.
I want to dig deep into the good earth.
Resist everything but inertia.
To an Old Friend
Rochelle Hope Mehr
You are still shunning me
Silently.
If you disapprove of me
In my nightclothes
Take off your glasses
And see me
As I really am.
The Revenge Poem
Rochelle Hope Mehr
One day I’d like to get revenge on
Everyone who laughed in my face.
But most of all I’d like to avenge myself
On those who took my hand
Pleasant as day
Those who flattered me
And made me feel safe
In the haven of their affection.
Only to use their affectation
When I was distracted
By this reverie of acceptance
To stab me in the back
And walk away.
Inflammation
Rochelle Hope Mehr
In the dream I meet my fate.
Two fires burn. One is north,
The other south. I am in
Between. Mesmerized by one’s
White hot flame I stand there
Open and untamed. It
Never reaches me but its
Dusky counterpart creeps up
And singes my hair.
Anguish
Rochelle Hope Mehr
When I’m lonely I do much better alone.
A shadow’s a shadow, a stone is a stone.
Collapsible wallls are the prison I’ve known.
A torrent of words is the grief of a thief.
Show her your anguish, then look beneath
And see nothing, nothing to bequeath.
Pass by the lake, eye yourself in the eye.
The current is chilling, a breath is a sigh.
A torrent of words and the night air is nigh.
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