Circle the Wagons

Circle the wagons mama,

Circle them now.

Steady for the trauma,

We know this drill now.

We started this trip together,

And I am not leaving without you.

Who needs a protector?

When I can circle the wagons with the likes of you.

Circle the wagons father,

For come what may

We will all be in the clear one day

For this is what I say.

When the dust clears, and the noise subsides

There will be calm for us besides,

There will be calm for us besides.

11.4.08

Cats with green eyes and whiskers so fine

Lean and lithe hunter of their domain

One wonders how they perceive time

During their lives hardly contained

I watch my tiger cat as she gracefully stalks the fence-top

Perfect balance and grace

She is one with her environs, full stop

Four paws neatly braced

As I listen for signs of a dismount in the form of a gentle plop

And a purry greeting with a feline embrace

Bunny Hopping By

I was sitting outside this morning

When a bunny came hopping by

He was wet

He was cold

And he wasn’t very old

So I invited him in

But he said with a grin

He couldn’t abide

A house with cats inside

~Charlotte Greer Slater 2011

Beautiful Mackay

Beautiful MacKay

Come bask in her glow

Whose eyes match azure skies

Framed by long lashes all in a row.

Fine countenance greets the eye

But beauty belies strength below

Smile a mile wide

She is off now, there she goes!

With a flip of golden locks

A subtle register of dissent

And up her horns do pop

Her demeanor mischief bent.

Betwixt the horns a halo is firmly affixed

Evidence of a base nature most angelic

But determination and grit also make up the mix

With little effort to dispel it.

Mirthful measure you will spy

by inquiring of her name

When she impishly replies

She will proudly proclaim,

‘It’s pronounced Mac ‘eye!’

Charlotte Greer Slater   8.10.09

I feel out of sorts ~Charlotte Greer Slater  7.5.11

‘I feel out of sorts’

What a polite little phrase

For the unrest I feel at every port

For my loss at any phase

Acutely painful is this state of being

Brought forth from who knows where

As if there is a futility in the exercise of seeing

And I must ardently hold back the despair

For this state there is no solution

Only riding out the storm on the horizon

I would squelch it of my own volition

I would do it first for my children

I fear my own depths

I have met the deepest fathom before

It’s as if I cannot cease taking the steps

Down Escher’s staircase to see a little more

The biggest fear is being detected

Feeling like I have failed the ones I love

For I try to keep them protected

From depression’s ugly shove

HIDING OUT Charlotte Greer Slater 7.11

Hiding out in my garden again today

Letting the flowers and bees fuel my creative juices

Attempting to divine what they are trying to convey

Clinging to feelings this environment induces

Do I pick up pencil and sketch?

Address the keyboard to log my thoughts?

Feelings purging and outstretched

urgent questions of how to parlay my mental snapshots

My world is filled with rocks, fossils and bones

Warm fuzzy animals vying for a lap to retain

For these things I feel I have nothing to atone

No apologies necessary for my life arcane

In other circles I feel the need to explain my eccentricities 

I often use the old refrain

I come by it honestly, it’s a family disease

But luckily, friends usually chime in and explain

I look around, pseudo-master of my domain

With a spirit I am unable to contain

Others look on as if I am the peaceable insane.  

Or the eccentric, one in the same.

Hair a mess.

Me, wear a dress?

I must confess,

Only under great duress.

But I have no need for posh frocks,

My breeches and boots fit just fine.

You might say I’m unorthodox

But dress-up just isn’t my shrine

Why don’t you put on a little makeup?

You could borrow something of mine

“Nah”, as I run for my truck

“But she cleans up so nice” mother opines

Friends would die of shock

If I were to don more than mascara

Never on a daily basis around the clock

Making its debut only the rarer

So let me be

And be pleasantly surprised

When on occasion my debutante ways are remembered

And  you will eventually become desensitized

~Charlotte Greer Slater

July 18th 2011

Damp Rises

Damp rises

Flagstones chill under my feet

Rheumatic aches for prizes

Making me crave the heat

Trees stand in the damp looking neglected

Wind demands bare arms to creak

Yet under them I feel protected

Reassuring me it is safe to speak

The ground drinks

Gaping maw to the full

Gullies at the brink

Gravity their pull

The earth submits to the cleansing 

A brutal cold scrubbing

But the trees remain unbending

For the rain is their loving

~Charlotte Greer Slater     1.11

I have been thinking for awhile

About churchyards full of clover

And the man who comes to mow it

Every Thursday afternoon

He knows that once he’s done it

He’ll only do it over

For the clover will just bloom again

Inevitable process and no slow grower

But the clover pays no mind

It only reads its lines

That’s all it knows to do

For nature gave it a script to follow through

Clover only knows to flower

No matter what besets it

In the valiant hope it’s easy

For wandering bees to detect it

We too, should be like clover

Everyone should learn to flower

No matter what besets us

Disregarding the hour

For the sun just keeps on shining

And the man just keeps on mowing

And the clover just keeps on growing

In the same old-fashioned way.

~Charlotte Greer Slater

7.3.11

Blue sky, when are you going to learn to rain?

And let yourself go grey, release all of that pain

Sometimes, when all the light has left the day,

Blue skies have again failed me, much to my dismay

I tell the sky I would join her

If she only would give up the rain

We both could rinse away our pain

And nothing would be in vain

So hurry heat, rise away

Feed the clouds at the end of day

Build a thunderstorm without delay

Deliver thunder and lightning like a valet

But letting go is not our forte

Blue sky and I don’t always agree

So my urges I endeavor to disobey

And I patiently wait for it to rise another degree

~Charlotte Greer Slater    8.17.2011