An Early Morning Trip to the Gardens

I wrote this poem during the pandemic.  It felt like a meaningful reminder for today of living in the moment and taking in all the little details of life around us.

An Early Morning Trip to the Gardens

By Rebecca Klamert*

I close my eyes….

The sun beats down on my face.

The lingering, still air is heavy on my skin.

The musical notes of countless birds

enter my ears, filling me,

as they trade their solos

in the backdrop of the chorus.

The fragrance of roses roams,

mingling with the sweet scents

of new growth and decay.

I open my eyes….

Such vivid colors surround,

bright flowers contrasting dark greens.

A miniscule fly explores the edge of a petal.

The orange breast of a robin stands out among pine.

A bumble bee covered in yellow pollen pauses.

I pick up my camera,

focus my eye through the viewfinder,

and fill the frame,

hoping to capture not only the sights,

but also the sounds, smells, and feelings.

*This was my name at the time the poem was written.

Election Day 2024

I don't know why I didn't post this here last year.  It was a social media memory for me today which gave me the chance to revisit this writing.

Election Day 2024

By Rebecca Longtin

It had been a restless night
as bits and pieces of dreams
and a flare of pain in my hip
repeatedly brought me awake.
Up before the alarm,
I dressed in my pink human rights shirt.
Today would be the last time
I voted as a Klamert,
in a pivotal election
that had the world on the edges of their seats.

Clouds hung low and heavy
obscuring the tops of buildings.
A light rain nourished the earth.
Setting out on foot,
the sounds of traffic
quickly masked the pitter patter
of the rain hitting the hood of my poncho.
Drops dripped down my bangs
and fell onto my cheeks,
divine tears reminding me of her presence.

Reaching my polling place,
the lines were long
as they snaked through the gym
and criss-crossed one another.
Neighbors, friends, and family
waited in solidarity
for the chance to make their voices heard.
Finally, with an “I voted” sticker in hand,
I walked out the door
and retraced my steps through the rain.

The Pain Still Remains

The Pain Still Remains

By Rebecca Longtin

He sleeps with someone new
as she sails the ship he booked,
the one where they were married.

She lets her tears fall
while he holds his in
hoping they never bubble up.

He complains to the rain
as she dances in it,
her tears turning to laughter.

She revels in her new found energy
as he wonders why
his life has become harder.

He buries his wounds even deeper
while she works hard to heal hers,
marveling in the transformation.

The pain still remains,
an opportunity to grow
or a hurdle to the future.

A Violent Sunrise

 A Violent Sunrise 

By Rebecca Longtin

Gray skies close in. 
Fog meanders 
between the hills and among the trees. 

I’m taken aback as I round the curve 
and see a newly risen, colossal scarlet sun 
hanging low in the sky. 

Wispy fog clouds dance 
in a mocking frenzied haze 
as they are then set on fire. 

In a choreographed move, 
the fog unites to overcome, 
smothering the brilliant red rays. 

But the sun’s fiery flames find renewed energy, 
pushing back and spreading 
as far as the eye can see. 

And then as suddenly as it all began 
the battle between the sun and fog is over.

The sun retreats higher, 
once again right-sized and less red. 
The fog meanders back 
to the valleys to be among the trees. 

A flock of geese in formation

soars across the sky.  

I continue down the road 
in awe of the show I just witnessed.

A Single Water Drop

 

A Single Water Drop

By Rebecca Longtin

Laying on this cold, hard rock

that divides the stream, down river 

from the falls, I listen.

I try to follow the path

of a single water drop,

as it joins with countless others,

meandering, 

etching,

forever changing

the Earth around it.

Such an insignificance

made significant 

in aggregate.

Lake Superior, March 1, 2015

Today I came across this beautiful poem I wrote about an opportunity I had years ago to explore the ice caves on Lake Superior. 

Lake Superior, March 1, 2015
By Rebecca Klamert*

The sun's radiance peeks from behind wispy clouds,
taking a bite out of the Canadian wind

We travel over compacted snow.
polished by wind, and
marked by souls of many

Rolling ripples flow over smooth surfaces as
rough waves etch a path to shore

Clear glass, a window to the sand and rock below
contrasts frosted panes providing shelter for fish
Minuscule soda straws surround cracks
that at times expand with a loud croak

Shelves of ice, all sizes and shapes,
form detailed mosaics.
enlarged molecules as viewed through a microscope, and
tiny veins branching out from a larger artery

Snow dust skims across, a water droplet in a hot pan,
performing a delicate dance

Along the shore chunks of ice mix with soft snow
Piles of broken shards crunch with the weight of my boots
Taps of hiking poles play a soft symphony,
a xylophone marking their rhythm

The sun dips lower in the sky
and angel rays stream through the clouds

*This was my name at the time the poem was written.

Poem written one stormy night on the beach

Untitled

By Rebecca Longtin

the darkness closing in 

waves pound on the shore 

white caps harshly bright 

reflect faraway lights 

my heart rate elevated 

my footsteps steady 

my mind matches the sea 

I disappear deeper into the obscurity

In the Quiet of the Darkness

In the Quiet of the Darkness
By Rebecca Longtin

In the quiet of the darkness
the evening grows long
as the sun sets early
and the temperature drops.

My eyelids droop deeply
searching the escape of sleep.
I seek out a distraction to stay awake,
a podcast, an audiobook, social media….

In the quiet of the darkness
I find warmth under my Grandmother’s quilt.
Eyes closed, sleep now escapes me
as the film of my life plays and replays.

You in a starring role feel so close.
So many questions remain
although the tears have long dried.
I drift off to sleep.

In the quiet of the darkness
a train rhythmically rattles by,
a Carolina Wren sings her song.
Morning has come too soon.

The Sound of the Stillness

The Sound of the Stillness
By Rebecca Longtin

soaring across the path

a small bird catches my eye 

I pause.

at first overwhelmed by silence

as the wheels of my scooter stop

I breathe.

the song of warblers reaches my ears

a chorus of more than the eye can spot

I am still.

wings push through the air, an audible sound

as they fly over my head

I am.

The Quiet of the Beach on a Windy Day

The Quiet of the Beach on a Windy Day
By Rebecca Longtin

The beach was still long
about an hour after low tide,
not a footprint in sight,
very few shells to be seen.
The sand wiped clean
still glistened from the sea.

The wind howled past
pulling my hair from my face.
Sea foam darted up the shore
barely touching the sand as it soared.
Up near the dunes, loose sand
created a flowing stream. 

The rain began to fall
pelting my raincoat and cheeks.
Then I came upon another person,
the first I had seen on this afternoon walk.
With a wave and a thumbs up,
kindred souls we passed.

When I Suffered, You Did Nothing

When I Suffered, You Did Nothing 

By Rebecca Longtin

You said the loving words 
that you thought I wanted to hear 
despite the fact 
that you didn’t believe them to be true. 

You even dreamed the dreams, 
made the plans, 
and invested the money 
as if we had a future together. 

You watched me 
adapt, bend, and twist 
to meet your ever changing needs 
knowing it would never be enough 

and I somehow missed 
the fact that you weren’t doing the same. 
You didn’t see your role. 
You didn’t want to. 

You stayed silent through it all 
with one foot out the door, 
as you watched me pour myself 
into you and our marriage. 

And then, when you decided you had enough 
you turned the finger on me. 
You pointed out my flaws. 
You blamed me for my reactions. 

You kept your explanations 
vague and varied enough, 
your examples reaching back more than a decade. 
The confusion on my face reflected so clearly. 

With distorted negative perceptions, 
you blamed me for your insecurities 
and you blamed me for my strengths. 
You still refused to see your role. 

You watched my tears fall. 
You saw the pain and confusion in my eyes. 
You witnessed the weight loss and sleepiness nights 
and you did nothing to ease my suffering. 

You heard me plea for clarity. 
You saw my desperation for answers. 
Yet you openly admitted that you had not even bothered 
to work through those answers with your therapist. 

You walked away as if you had never loved me. 
as if you had never cared about me. 
You acted like what we once had 
never had existed.

Sharing the Beach with a Willet

 

Sharing the Beach with a Willet

By Rebecca Longtin

I walked the shore with a Willet,
running in and out of the waves,
the sun low behind us as the day began,
golden light pouring over us.

Finding a treasure higher on shore,
clasping it in his beak, he rushed to the surf 
And dropped it in the water
over and over.
 
Then we continued down the shore.
The sound of the crashing waves
drowning out all else.
The crunch of shells marking time.

The Willet paused,
suddenly wary of my presence.
So I paused too
to gave him space to move on at his own pace. 

Labyrinth

Labyrinth

By Rebecca Longtin (FKA Klamert)

From a birds’ eye view,

I know the end is near,

as I stand and pause

at the very beginning.

Unfamiliar with the path,

my steps are unsteady

and tentatively slow

so I breathe in and I breathe out.

The first turn quickly approaches

followed by another

and then another

as I lose myself in time.

And then a fairly long stretch

of a gentle curve

appears before me.

My pace quickens.

Before long a tight curve

unexpectedly presents itself

causing me to hesitate.

I breathe in and I breathe out.

I do not stop.

I do not turn around.

The only path is forward

so I intentionally progress.

A sense of surprise

rushes over me

as I turn the final curve

and reach the end.

Finally I stop.

I rest and reflect.

I take note of the anxiety within

and I breathe in and I breathe out.

Sunset over the Lincoln Memorial

Sunset over the Lincoln Memorial

By Rebecca Klamert

Cold hard stone supports me as I sit.
The last light of the day
dipping low behind the Lincoln Memorial.
Light dances across the pond,
Disturbed only by a gentle breeze
and the paths of the mallard ducks.
The crisp air chills,
as darkness takes over.
My eyes slowly adjust.
Tourists and photographers
hurry on their way,
nothing much left to see.
Yet I remain seated
as the cold seeps in.

Another Day I Move Forward

Another Day I Move Forward
By Rebecca Klamert

Waves bouncing off the hull
as the ship cuts through the sea.
Pastel colors paint the sky,
announcing the arrival of the sun.

Another day has begun.
Another day time moves forward.
Another day I move forward.

I sit alone on this balcony
wrapped in a luxurious robe,
cup of coffee on the table near me
as I listen and stare into the horizon.

The sun shines brightly now
reflecting harshly off the water.
In the light of day,
the feelings of betrayal resurface.

My heart beat begins to match
the rhythms of the waves.
The salty air infiltrates my senses.
I take a deep breath.

Another day has begun.
Another day time moves forward.
Another day I move forward.

At this table for one I sit,
breakfast finished, lingering over coffee.
The hum of conversations surround me
intruding in on the voice in my head.

I pause to write.
The pencil sliding smoothly over paper,
energy flowing through me
transforming as thoughts become words.

Another day has begun.
Another day time moves forward.
Another day I move forward.

The sun retreats behind a cloud
a child delights at the colors of the sea
while their sibling cries inside,
new beginnings marked by both joy and struggle.

Unplugged and disconnected,
I reach to connect with the sea
internalizing her motion,
breathing in her healing powers.

Another day has begun.
Another day time moves forward.
Another day I move forward.

(Written on a my first solo cruise as my divorce was pending.)

The sun will rise again

The Sun Will Rise Again
By Rebecca Klamert

The train horn heard in the distance
proclaims the way
as I rattle through the night.
The sun has set,
darkness has overcome.
The only voice I hear is my own.
Doubt and uncertainty
cloud my mind
as my eyelids droop closed.
Yet throughout the night
the engine will propel me forward
and tomorrow
the sun will rise again.

Haikus for a Water Lantern Festival

I'm writing again!  I don't know why I let it go so long.  But my poetry has become a comfort in this challenging year.

These were written for a Water Lantern Festival.  I wrote them on the paper water lantern I released out into the pond.  They represent the loss I have experienced, the strength I have found as I faced that loss, and the hope for a new chapter.

Haikus
By Rebecca Klamert

sand, shells, salt water
slip through my fingers freely
waves retreat to sea

roots, branches, and limbs
stretch as deep as wide as high
weathered, worn, yet stands

black of night transforms
first blue, then golden red
my eyes see anew

Arbor Day Poem

Last week, I was reading our city's quarterly newsletter and was quite excited to see my name, reprinted as a winner of the Arbor Day writing contest from the year before.  So today I share with you that poem (which is a revision of a poem I had previously posted on this blog).

A Tree in its Season

By Rebecca Klamert

Leaves in yellows, reds, and oranges

provide shelter to dull olive green goldfinches,

blend in with the song of cardinals,

and await the arrival of the indigo buntings

lacking only their brilliant blue feathers.

Looking up on a cloudless night

stars twinkle and dance between bare limbs

of a maple, swaying in the gentle breeze.

A nearby owl surveys the snow covered ground

and intimidates others with its hoo hoo hoo.

Buds turn to shiny bright green growth

as a robin’s monkey-laugh song echoes.

Scurrying, a chickadee seeks scraps for its nest.

Fragrant flowers of an apple tree

beckon each passing person to pause.

A hairy woodpecker, red stripe on its head,

heard long before it’s spotted,

clings high in an elm tree, feasting on insects.

Mother and child play with a toy train and drink lemonade

on a blanket under the shade of a soaring oak.

Frost

Frost
By Rebecca Klamert

Each blade, tipped with a star, blinks
     on a cloudless crisp morning.
Flyer wagon red leaves form
     a stark contrast to the blanket of white.
The twinkle disappears at a pace,
     not
     much
     behind
     the fog of my breath.

October 30, 2014

October 30, 2014

By Rebecca Klamert

As my mind awakened

aches shivered through me

Eyes still closed, a battle

waged within

Dressed and showered

I stepped out the front door,

starting at my normal pace

Over the length of the half-mile,

I slowed

Approaching an intersection, I pushed forward

at the pace

of the cars

waiting

for the red light

to turn green

Song Lyrics with Meaning to me

Song writers are a special kind of poet.  They have the added challenge of making words work with melody and have the ability to reach far larger audiences.  Reading poetry, I fear, is becoming a lost art.  Sadly, I can't remember the last time I picked up one of my poetry books.

Listening to music I believe will always be a strong piece of most any culture.  So today I would like to share with you some excerpts of song lyrics that really mean something to me.

Stand
Written by Danny Orton and Blair Daly
Recorded by Rascal Flatts

"You feel like a candle in a hurricane
just like a picture with a broken frame
alone and helpless
like you've lost your fight
but you'll be alright, you'll be alright

'Cause when push comes to shove
you taste what you're made of
you might bend 'til you break
'cause it's all you can take
on your knees you look up
decide you've had enough
you get mad, you get strong
wipe your hands shake it off
then you stand"

"Every time you get up
and get back in the race
one more small piece of you
starts to fall into place"


Every Storm (Runs Out of Rain)
Written by Gary Allan, Hillary Lindsey, and Matt Warren
Recorded by Gary Allan

"Oh so you're standing in the middle of the thunder and lightning
I know you're feeling like you just can't win, but you're trying
It's hard to keep on keepin' on when you're being pushed around
Don't even know which way is up, you just keep spinning down, 'round, down

Every storm runs, runs out of rain
Just like every dark night turns into day
Every heartache will fade away
Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain"

"It's gonna run out of pain
It's gonna run out of sting
It's gonna leave you alone
It's gonna set you free
Set you free"


Diamonds
Written by Sia Furler, Benny Blanco, and StarGate
Recorded by Rihanna

"Find light in the beautiful sea
I choose to be happy"

I crunch leaves

I crunch leaves

By Rebecca Klamert

Nausea sets in as I grip the desk and pause

Focused pain spreads through and through

I falter

Finding the floor of a conference room

I stretch as tears spill on the carpet

Then I stand

In my chair I raise my face to the lines of a poem

Inspiration meant for a future day

I smile

Stepping outside I find a vibrant red tipped yellow leaf sailing

and allow the song of a familiar bird to wash over me

I walk on

After two pain pills and two hours with the TENS

my throat catches on my walk home so I step off the path

and crunch leaves

Walking in the Fog

Walking in the Fog

By Rebecca Klamert

moisture laden air drops

press against my eyes

closing me in

a fresh water tear

forms on my lashes

my vision blurs

As the Season Changes

As the Season Changes

Rebecca Klamert

Leaves in yellows, reds, oranges

await the arrival of the indigo buntings,

lacking only their brilliant blue feathers.

Ruby throated hummingbirds

no longer guest at our dinner table,

their favorite flowers wilted in the wind.

A hairy woodpecker,

a stripe of red on his head,

pecks at the peanut suet.

His intention to intimidate

various sparrows who ignore

and toss to the ground

half of the suet they peck.

I stand between the lines of laundry

swaying in the brisk breeze.

All have flown away

except the black capped chickadee

who shares my company.