Slivers of Red

I found another shard of it. That sliver of red stuck out in a story of plague--a sharp, bright bit that might have cut me again. But I already knew the trick of picking it up without too much pain. I'd gathered plenty of others like it already. Those were in stories too, though some of them were cocooned in songs and needed to be unwrapped first. I know that it won't look the same even if I find every last piece. I've stopped worrying about that now. The point is I'm looking for them, rediscovering the contours and angles of each of these bits of me, and glorying in the way they feel at home in my chest.

My tree grows new leaves
after winter claims old ones.
New fruits will grow too.

Photo by Riho Kitagawa on Unsplash

Song choice: Kintsugi by Lindsey Stirling

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Small Magics

I am a collector of small magics--

the silkiness of sidewalk moss,

the scrap of blue in a patchwork of clouds,

the bud on the end of a twisted branch,

an unexpected kindness.

I could press them dry

separately on their own page.

But I like letting them simmer,

stirred together in my pocket

until together

they take on a hopeful luster

and wholesome texture

that will keep me fed for days.

Photo by Almos Bechtold on Unsplash

Song Choice: A Kind of Magic by Queen

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings, where Rosemary asked us to write about something we feel strongly about. I feel quite strongly about holding on to the little things that keep my hope alive, especially in the middle of all the world's chaos. 

Sometimes my walks with my corgi Jelly Bean turn up some delightful things to notice. Sometimes its as simple as a stranger pulling over to help my Darling Youngest when their car had an electrical glitch, and then following him home to make sure he got here safely. I never got the woman's name but I am very glad for her kindness and calming presence when D.Y. needed it. 

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

For a Would-Be Spellslinger

First, you have to listen
for the under-rhythm pulsing
everywhere
from the stars to the earthworms.

This is where all true magic begins.
Pay attention,

to the ones that help you
not only to find the natural thrum
of your spirit, listen
for the ones that harmonize
with your softest chords.

Now you are ready to craft
music that shifts
possibilities to probabilities,
earning the title of spellslinger
with every newborn note.

Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

Song Choice: Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic covered by Sleeping At Last

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for Magaly's prompt at Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings prompt, Such Inspiring Titles. The first book I read in 2023 was Spellslinger by Sebastien De Castell. My poem has nothing at all to do with the book (which was a heck of a lot of fun and a great way to kick off 2023's reading list).

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Ordinary Is

Ordinary is
feeling like an animated five-year-old
when the rising sun makes patterns through my curtains
that feel like a secret message for me to decipher.

Ordinary is
tasting the alchemy between the elements
that created my morning tea.

Ordinary is
picking up a wriggling earthworm from a puddle
and wondering if it thinks of me as a mad eldritch horror
that had a sudden moment of benevolence.

Ordinary is
tucking in the bones of the flowers that I planted on a whim
under a bed of decomposing leaves
much to the dismay of my HOA.

Ordinary is
staring up at the stars to chat about my day
and the way we always decide

this still isn’t a bad life at all
by the end of our conversation.

Photo by Carl Campbell on Unsplash

Song Choice: Ordinary World by Aurora

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, Ordinary.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Today's Story

What story will I tell myself today?
I wonder,
smelling spring green
mixed into November leaf piles.

Will this be the one
about the dancing trees
with the tempo of their sway
commemorated in the bark?

Maybe I’ll think about the lost
autumn wind that shaped the dancers'

trunks and branches
and how it will return
like no time had passed
between meetings.

You sound like a woman who hasn’t given up,
I say, letting my heart take comfort
in the hush-shush song

my feet make when I ramble on
though a field of leaves
only slightly out of my way
on my walk home.

I answer back,
I really haven’t,

at least not this time.

Maybe I really never will, I add,

making another satisfying crunch

in last year's leaves,

while knowing my pen and notebook
are still waiting in the place
I last set them down.

Photo by Konstantin Dyadyun on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Anne with an E soundtrack suite.

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings prompt, Dialog.

Anne-Girl

I hated my hair
when I was little. Like you,
I tried to daydream it away
along with other awkward realities.

Irrepressible Anne-girl, I too was
more at home protected by fancies

spun from the scent of lilacs,
storms of cherry blossoms,
and iris leaf swords.

We both grasped for the words
true enough to make sense
of the world’s horror and wonder,

and made up fairy tales
sturdy enough to nourish
all our explosions
of feeling and imagination.

Megan Follows from the 80's Anne of Green Gables mini-series

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Ahead By A Century (Theme from Anne with an E) by Tragically Hip

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, Beloved Books. I chose to write about Anne of Green Gables. 

Stay Curious

Stay
curious, girl.
Ask the questions,
especially when only you
answer.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: How Far I'll Go from Moana

Liner Notes for This Groove: This elfchen is linked to the Friday Writings post at Poets and Storytellers United, Watching and Witnessing

Lift Off

I thought I had to wait
for an invitation from the wind
to test how far I could fly.

Song Choice: You Learn by Alanis Morissette

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, Upcycled Words. I did go through a bunch of my old poems, intending to reuse a couple of lines here and there. As I tried to see how they might fit together, this bit came to mind and I thought it was pretty decent as is. 

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Waiting for Crocus

If I stand here long enough
I might see a crocus bloom.
But I’d likely freeze to death

before that happened.
Only my bones left
when the snow has melted

to see the purple fingers
of newborn crocus
reaching for the sky.

My ribcage could be
a serviceable cathedral

for mousely vows
said under springtime moons
and earthworm princes
to find the objects of their quests.

I’m afraid I’m too selfish to share
this space my heart is used to
taking up with just any random
invertebrate or rodent.

So I’ll pull my hat down lower
to cover up the howling of the wind,

go inside where my tea waits for me,
and come back to this place
when the crocus is ready for me.

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: The Waiting by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storyteller United's Friday Writings, Feast or Famine. 

this is what it's like

this is what it means to be alive: 

coming in from an icy rain,

too petulant to be proper snow

you sit near a fire

with plastic logs that never burn

but are thankful

for the warmth and the view

 

this is what comfort tastes like—

a delight of mingled simple and familiar

flavors in a perfect bowl of rice

 

you eat and remember stories

about a god in every grain of rice

and a god of rice and foxes

 

for a moment you are a child again,

pretending you are a happy fox

in a den miles away from

human decisions and consequences

 

you eat slow, so slow,

greeting the god in every grain,

indie rock serenading the traveling gods

as their journey intersects yours

 

this is what it’s like remembering

you don’t want the jarrito

because even almost a year later,

it will still taste like tears instead of pineapple

the tears will come anyway,

so you may as well have the jarrito

 

this is what it’s like remembering,

laughter still exists 

and it feels so good to laugh with a lover 

about wisteria in the winter

although spring is so far away

 

you remind yourself

this is what it’s like to be alive,

warm, and sated—a blessing

 

of food in the belly,

music and laughter in the background,

in spite of the storm.

Photo by Maurice Sahl on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

 

Song Choice: What a Wonderful World covered by The Ramones

 

Mint

We are suited to each other,
I think.

She is patient
with my lack of experience,
not minding the absence of green
in my thumb.

Mint curls a tendril around me.
“I will teach you,” she says.
“All you want to know.”

For starters, she is independent.
Take her inside over the winter
and she will wither. It is no kindness
to keep her from the world she loves.

But that doesn’t mean
she’ll shun all attention.

Check in on her
on dry, hot days.
Mint loves to stay a little wet,
but not drown.

She makes a lovely companion
in the quiet of your back porch.
But mind that she’s in a place that suits you both.

Otherwise, she’ll run wild
over the rest of your garden
until all you can taste is her
on the heavy summer air.

There is something about mint
that plays well with my energy.
There is something familiar and dear
about her tingle.

There is something about mint that feels
like the sweetest magic I’d forgotten
or pushed away.

But mint holds no grudges.
So long as I respect her
she rewards me

with a bright, effusive flavor
that lingers in my mouth
or her distinctive scent
on my hand when I stroke her.

Photo by SIMON LEE on Unsplash

Song Choice: Treat Her Like A Lady by The Temptations

Liner Notes For This Groove: This poem was created for the prompt given by Poets and Storytellers United, Mining the Journals. I like to take notes on plants I try growing for various and sundry purposes. LOL, mint is the first plant I really tried to grow. It helps a lot that I enjoy a cup of mint tea blend in the evenings.

Bloody Unusual

My
uncanny heart
is a lair
for numerous bloody unusual
tales.

Photo by Dmitry Vechorko on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Spellbound by Siouxsie and the Banshees

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United - Unusual, Uncommon, Uncanny.

Also, on the advice of cleverer poets, a last minute word swap was made which makes it much better IMHO... "several" for "numerous".

Everyday

Everyday 

there’s a new blue sky
waiting for me
to disturb all the earth
thrown upon me
the day before,
and see if I’ll come dancing.

Everyday 

there's a new spark,

either hiding in the curl of a leaf

or out in plain sight

in the curve of my love's smile

strong enough 

to remind my heart what it's there for.

And all is made new again.

Taylor Van Riper on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Brand New Day by Sting

Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, Starting A New Relationship. You can start a new relationship with a day, right?

To the Little Girl in the Blanket Fort

I know it’s hard
not to be constantly embarrassed
by a weird, wild heart
that keeps finding itself
snagged on a world full of splinters.

You imagine
it’d make such a beautiful sail,

freed from the limits of its chest,

for those times when you want to flip
all the blanket and pillow walls 
and turn them into a boat
to glide over the squalls.

Be patient with it. Your heart

can't help the way it throbs and dances.

As odd and awkward as it is, your heart
will be something you grow in to,
not something to grow out of.

Photo by Sdf Rf on Unsplash

Song Choice: Ahead By a Century by Tragically Hip (Theme song from Anne with an E). 

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings post at Poets and Storytellers United, Hindsight is Rather Tricky. The phrase we were asked to work with is "if I knew then what I knew now." I really should have spent less time worrying about being that weird kid, and more time just enjoying it.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

So There's A Price

I’ve heard people say,
“magic comes with a price”
as if it’s some sort of a warning.

 

Would it surprise them to know that

that the sky is blue,

and fire is hot?

 

Of course it has a price.

Why would magic be

separate from any other part of life?

 

Every day,

in ways large and small,

we always pay 

some sort of price—

 

not just for the things we choose

to keep in our lives,

but for the ones we don’t too.

 

Some aren’t aware

of what they are paying for,

with still interest accruing.

 

And there are others

who make it their business to understand that

life is the oldest and greatest magic there is,

and it will come with costs.

 

So I will choose

as sure as the earth under my feet,

as sure as the ocean is wide,

as sure as I find my peace the blue of the sky,

and comfort in the warmth of the flame

 

to knowingly pay the price

for the all magic I hold dear

because the price for a life without them

is more than I can bear to pay.

 

  

Photo by Bee Felten-Leidel on Unsplash

Song Choice: Magic by Olivia Newton John

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Rediscovered Wings

Imagine what it would take

for a dragon to rediscover her wings?

You would have to ask

what made her forget

she had wings in the first place.

How could she have left behind

the feel of her muscles working

in defiance of logic and physics?

To remember her wings

is to feel all the things

associated with flight—

the whistle of the air as she glided past

the feeling of rising

above the clouds

to let sunlight dance over scales.

If she could forget all that

how hard would it be to remember?

Would the fear of confronting the shame
of forgetting keep her from acknowledging them?

Or would the joy

of being whole again

leave shame and regret on the ground

while the dragon soared higher

on her rediscovered wings?

Photo by Ryan Moulton on Unsplash

Song Choice: I Won't by Little Mix

This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers Unites, Re-verse.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Así Soy

I am magic
down to my every bone.

Deep in every cell

I carry the imprint

of some dancing mother

ready to embrace me

in the twine of forgotten DNA.

My magic within hums

in tune to the magic around me.

My bones remember the beat

even when my mouth stumbles over the words.

This magic and I are one.

There is no wall

saying, “Here it begins”

and “There it stops.”

But you want to quantify it, own it

while at the same time looking down on it.  

Imagine that…

Consider that magic flees from disdain

and force. Stop and understand

that eyes that have decided on definitions

before they are even opened are as good as blind.

Harvest Brew by Lady Viktoria
More of her enchanting art is available at her Etsy store.

This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads: Just One  Word - Imagine and Poets United's Pantry of Poetry and Prose #9.

Song Choice: Así Soy (Spanish cover of This is Me from the Greatest Showman) by Calle 42

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Moon Maiden, Blogging Around with Rommy, Week 40

Moon by Alphonse Mucha

You call me inconsistent
when my patterns are obvious
to those who bother to observe.

There is nothing irregular
in my nighttime roving.
My feet quicken and slow
with my waxing and waning.

For this you dismiss me
and say my nature keeps me from understanding
what you have deemed important.

Perhaps you are right.
I have no wish to understand
a mind so closed.

Why would I be interested
in your idea of acceptable
with the stars' kisses
still fresh on my skin?


This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads: Take A Chance and Step into the Mythical World. It is also linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry 498.

People are not taught to be really virtuous, but to behave properly. 

- Kakuzō Okakura, The Book of Tea

Liner Notes For This Groove: Sometimes peoples' ignorance enrages me and sometimes it makes me laugh. I had overheard part of a conversation where one older gent declared to younger one that women were destined to be unable to understand higher levels of virtue because of their gender. 

I've been trying to keep a promise I made to myself to stay out of fruitless arguments. And the expression on his conversational partner's face told me that there was a good chance that choice morsel of dung was not going to go unaddressed. I let it be. Attitudes like that are going the way of the dinosaur (good riddance). I see the younger generations gleefully challenging old ideas. I chose to focus on the hope I feel when I hear young people speaking up rather than despair about the remaining pockets of fossilized ignorance, at least on that day. 

So dear Groovers, what lights up your nights with hope? Let's talk about it down in the comments section. As always, drop a link to your cyberhome if you'd like to continue the chat there.

Song Choice: Bad Reputation by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

It's OK to Not Like Things: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 33

You don’t prove power

by hitting the defenseless.

Strong people punch up

and don’t hide in fake kindness

to justify their cruelty.

This poem is linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry 492.

Liner Notes for this Groove:

“Sir, I did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?”

― Samuel Johnson, The Life of Samuel Johnson, Vol 2

There’s no question we are living in some serious rough times. A lot of us often rely on admittedly goofy things to cope like indulging in silly interactive memes because holy fuck, people who look like me are getting caged and shot.

So I found it more than a little distasteful to see someone who has set themselves up as something of an advisor or a guide of people to purposely use belittling language to describe others who engage in the sort of thing I described. There was the tiniest bit of back pedaling when confronted with the fact their words were insensitive, but ultimately they reaffirmed their phrasing, hoping its aggressiveness would get through to people.

Yeah, I guess that’s one way to go with it.

But how about this…how about not going out of your way to shame people for harmless things they do to deal with the daily suckage that spews at them constantly? How about seeing that any form of lighthearted human connection, that involves nothing mean-spirited or blood pressuring raising, is a good thing, even if it isn’t your thing?

I think the world could use more of those moments of brief connection. Admittedly, there’s a decent chance it won’t be all that deep but a.) maybe the equivalent of a sugary bon-bon of interaction is all we need or can handle in a particular moment and b.) very deep and true friendships have had their start in silliness. All I know is that when I’ve been the goofball comedy relief a friend has needed, we both came out feeling better for the experience.

So dear Groovers, do you indulge in goofy little things to get a smile going on those tough days? Tell me all about it in the comments section and do be sure to drop a link to your cyberhome if you want to keep the conversation going there too.

These little crows have the right idea.
Bloom by Magic Love Crow
Follow her blog for more whimsically fun art.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Smile from My Little Pony, in English and Spanish because I can.

Reconnecting: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 26

I remember singing you

a mermaid’s melody,

not too far past a child myself.

Fourth of a set of seedlings,

bringing petals and rings

on an overcast day

where I was too busy smiling

and waltzing with my daydream

to care too much about a little rain.

I’m glad I stopped by

to see you at almost the same moment

where I was when I met you.

You’ve already started dancing

to your song. No rain will stop you

from being the queen in your story.

Liner Notes for this Groove: I am finally back home from Maine! The ride home was made easier thanks to a small side trip to visit a niece I hadn’t seen in years. We were much closer when she was little, but life and the busy nonsense that consumes so many of us kept throwing up roadblocks to staying in touch. I was so happy to get to know her (and her husband-to-be) again after such a long time apart.

When I realized that my teas were packed in such a way that it'd be difficult to get them out of the rooftop carrier without fully unloading, I asked her if she happened to have any tea at her place--and resigned myself to be content if she only had coffee. Instead she showed me to her well-stocked tea collection and we caught up over some lovely English Breakfast in the morning and Jackfruit Honey Black in the afternoon. Robert Godden once wrote, “At Christmas, tea is compulsory. Relatives are optional.” Hopefully she’ll make it to the next family Hanukah gathering and we’ll share another cup of tea then too.

The niece I visited (left) and another niece, her older sister (right) at my wedding.
I have seven biological nieces and three so-close-they-may-as-well-be-family nieces.

So have any of you ever had the opportunity to reconnect with a relative or old friend? Talk to me about it in the comments or just start up a chat on how you've been doing. If you want to take the conversation onto your page, don't forget to drop a link.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: I Hope You Dance by Lee AnnWomack