Selected Poetry
Here are a few poems . . .
Relying upon
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published by Straw Dog Writers Guild as part of Pandemic Poetry
I rely on the coffee maker
on caffeine in darkness and bitterness
employing my ambitions
greasing them with motivation
firing the burners of my
arthritic efforts.
I rely on the shower
its perfect range of rain
falling on my rounded shoulders,
finding me standing too long
seeking youth renewal,
magical transformation.
I rely on the large window
I watch the mountain in,
its various states.
Look—today it has vanished again
in the mists.
I rely on the birds
swooping by
folding themselves like umbrellas,
opening wings as they must their hearts
to put up with us humans.
I rely on my cat
who tells me to wake up,
walking on me as I sleep.
If I step outside
she waits by the door.
I rely upon the grace of God
giving me my life ‘til now,
having forgiven my failings
as I cannot.
I rely on tomorrow as a concept
while doing the doings of the day,
frittering away pieces of time
knowing there will be more portions,
as if butter— always another stick.
Nearly March
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published as a (2nd place) finalist in Poet's Seat Poetry Contest -- 2020 (see image)
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published by Straw Dog Writers Guild as part of Pandemic Poetry
I rely on the coffee maker
on caffeine in darkness and bitterness
employing my ambitions
greasing them with motivation
firing the burners of my
arthritic efforts.
I rely on the shower
its perfect range of rain
falling on my rounded shoulders,
finding me standing too long
seeking youth renewal,
magical transformation.
I rely on the large window
I watch the mountain in,
its various states.
Look—today it has vanished again
in the mists.
I rely on the birds
swooping by
folding themselves like umbrellas,
opening wings as they must their hearts
to put up with us humans.
I rely on my cat
who tells me to wake up,
walking on me as I sleep.
If I step outside
she waits by the door.
I rely upon the grace of God
giving me my life ‘til now,
having forgiven my failings
as I cannot.
I rely on tomorrow as a concept
while doing the doings of the day,
frittering away pieces of time
knowing there will be more portions,
as if butter— always another stick.
Nearly March
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published as a (2nd place) finalist in Poet's Seat Poetry Contest -- 2020 (see image)
Things I admire even in some vague way
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published in Silkworm 14, Florence Poets Society
I admire dogs
muzzles like waistcoats,
dapper profiles.
Unashamed to be silly
sticking their wide noses
in each other’s rumps,
in piles of leaves
on the side of the road.
Their earnestness, their truth
can they ever lie or betray?
They love fully, unafraid,
the way I’d love too if I
had a chance to love again
I admire the ladybug
so fervently optimistic
Arriving from who knows
where in winter seemingly
living on air, in the bathroom
around the sink like a campfire
along the wide kitchen window
I carry you to the grapefruit tree
Hoping you’ll eat the aphids
but you’re the packman of bugs
traveling hither and yon
in between the windows
Unperturbed by time or limitations
I love bears although I am afraid
of them—the idea of bear is more
what I love; furry, strong, independent
sleeping winter away – it makes sense
waking to find a chilly spring
Foraging—I’ve never seen you
except in film—no bears walking up
to say hello, telling me their dreams
although, I’d be okay with that--
I could hold bear dreams
put them in soup and
paint them into stories
And each night wave to the darkness thinking,
There must be bears out there somewhere
I am
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published as part of 30 Poems in November -- Center for New Americans 2020 Anthology
I am
the evening down by the trees
the mysterious orbs
that float on snowy nights
the orchard ripe with fruit
and many broken boughs
the color cyan--a vibrating blue
inside quieter, mauve or pear
or ever so pale yellow
often Mondrian perfect
edged in thick lines
I am typeface trembling
across an ivory page
a manacled curlicue caught
distinctly misshapen
belonging to another time
and yet--I am the sergeant of myself
I like things to be difficult
make my bed
pull my own weight
I do not like consolation
Fall and Falling
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published as part of 30 Poems in November -- Center for New American 2021 Anthology
it rained leaves yesterday
I watched them blow
across the kitchen window
striping yellow in a Morse code of gusts
and wanting to be outside myself
and one of them—I ached to find the fall
in myself letting go and blowing
and later in a damp pile settling
my flutter having turned
coppery and weighted
with the past tense of myself
Some things you just know—like how to train a lion
—by C. Desirée Finley
first published in Willawaw Journal - spring 2022
The best way to train a lion is to look
At his face and then close your eyes
And then smile
This helps the lion know you do not
Fear him and you do not want to hurt him
It should be a ritual for dating
The lion knows you are kind
If you are and you should be kind
At all times.
If you slip and are
Mean even once you should
Never put your head in his mouth.
Besides being kind, you should
Always wear the same outfit
It should have the color blue
Lions like blue and it reminds
Them of how much they like
The ocean
Always reach out and touch his ear
The left ear is best and run
Your finger along the edge
He’ll look at you but don’t
Look back. Pretend you don’t
See his glance
It is best to wear boots with heels
Lions are quite large and
you should be as big as you can be
the most important thing is to love
your love lays down a path before
you even enter the ring
lions can pick up on that
as if it’s radio waves or
something in the air
