This is How We Look for Poems

A Letter to Daphne Blue Leitner

born August 7, 2017

Your time was different. 

I had written of the great anticipation we all experienced with the arrival of your sisters, and of course we shared the same excitement about you as well, but something was telling me I needed to wait until you were here before I could write about you. The miracle of you was bringing a different set of questions.

For you...

...it was not your arrival, but the development of your temperament that had everyone curious. How would you be? If the first one was imaginative, caring, sensitive, and the second one fearless, head strong, independent, what did that leave for the third one? Would you become a combination of both? Where would you go, and how would you get there? Speculation had everyone guessing at how you would embrace the world.

For me...

...your magic started with your first visit. You were only a few months old and restless, so I held you and took you to the window to show you the world. Your eyes grew wide, your body became still, and I whispered, “This is how we look for poems.” You starred and took it all in: trees, flowers, grass and sky, and I wondered what your first poem would be...

and then...

...our next visit showed me what I needed to see. In all your daily moments, you were happy: to play, to laugh, to talk and shout with your own words when all about you were making a great noise, you were happy to be here and part of the conversation of life. Everything I showed you was cause for fascination, but it was you, shining with joy when your parents or sisters came into the room, that showed me love was already a part of your nature.

Now you...

...less than a year old, and you gaze at your sisters with wide-eyed wonder and affection. I have no doubt that over the course of your life there will be periods when they will be your closest allies and most stubborn combatants, until the day comes when you all realize the importance of the special bond that binds you forever, and you vow to hold it dear from that day foreword.

Within me...

...I have a vision: three sisters as grown women with children of their own, and in a rare moment of quiet before sleep, they dust off a book written by an old man they called Popi, who wrote poems of love and heart break, of his dogs and his women and his world, of what he saw and how it touched him, and they’ll remember how he taught himself to look for poems in all things, how he taught them to do the same, and gave them his lesson to teach.

I have seen...

...the joy of life in your eyes and the love of family in your heart. Like your sisters before you, you are the poem I knew you would be.

You and I...

...will always be great friends as we look for poems together.

With much love,

Popi

Ken Owen    
Van Niddy Press   June 2018

Getting to Know You

(or How to Ensure There is No Second Date)

We had a lovely night

Dinner, drinks

And long talks on every subject

Until midnight surprised us

And we said our good-nights

And kissed our good-byes

When I woke the next morning

I found that I had left my mind 

Running in Full Chatter Mode

And it was having 

A conversation with you

On how I’ve always wondered 

about those store-bought 

Chocolate chip cookies

That stay suspiciously soft and chewy 

Much longer than they probably should

But I still love them

It would seem that

Hours later

Asleep and alone

My subconscious wasn’t finished 

Letting you know about all the things 

That I find curious

For the record

I had no idea my subconscious 

Was still quietly processing 

The mystery of those cookies

But it appears to think

I should tell you everything

So, I wanted you to know

I really enjoyed our evening 

And if you woke up thinking

Of chocolate chip cookies

That’s probably why.

So, 

dinner next Tuesday?

Ken Owen   

Van Niddy Press   June 2018

As Much As I Can Remember

     "As much as I can remember"

keeps changing.

I have this sneaking suspicion 

memories are escaping 

through some unlatched gate

but I can’t remember 

which ones have gone missing.

Sometimes my friends will 

bring one back and we unwrap it 

like a forgotten Christmas present 

and watch it sparkle briefly 

like a movie flashing 

through a dusty window

and I quickly tuck it away

before I misplace it again

and then scold myself 

for letting it escape.

But sometimes they bring back

ones they insist were mine

that don’t look familiar at all

and say

     I remember it like it was yesterday.

     Don’t you remember?

     I’ll never forget it!

I’m amazed 

they’ve remembered

and they’re surprised

I’ve forgotten.

If I remember back

far enough

sometimes I’m not sure

if memories and dreams

left unattended all these years

have jumped the fence and are

playing together in the dense fog

but be they dreams or memories

they seem perfectly content

to stay right where they are.

My earliest thoughts

my oldest visions

don’t move.

     "As far back as I can remember"

never changes...

                                I think.

Ken Owen 

Van Niddy Press   May 2018

Community Service

Saturday morning

and some well-dressed

well-intentioned folks just 

rang the doorbell.

I didn’t answer,

but it got me thinking.

Good people go

door-to-door

and offer to help you

find Jesus.

That’s a powerful testament 

to faith and conviction

and a lovely sentiment

really

until you realize 

their idea of serving humanity 

is hours and hours of peddling 

a 3,000 year old mythology 

created when we had no answer 

for thunder or sunsets

that will bring light to your life

and answers to your troubles

and all it will cost you

is the suspension of 

all logic and reason.

What if we had

those same good people

going door-to-door

asking things like

How’s it going?

Is everything ok?

Do you need help with anything?

Anything you need to talk about?

Here’s my number, call if you need anything.

No myths.

No deities.

No worship.

Just caring.

Just compassion.

Just community. 

Just someone

in the neighborhood 

you could talk too

to let you know

you are not alone.

Why is religion

the only community message 

we sell door-to-door?

Ken Owen

Saturday, May 19, 2018

Secrets

I stole her secrets

small bottles of courage

carefully hidden

throughout the house

to get her through the day.

I must have sent her 

scurrying in frustrated panic

to remember hiding places

she could no longer trust

with no one to tell

her treasures were gone

yet her secret

was no secret 

to anyone.

We played 

Hide and Seek 

with knowing looks

and no words spoken

until her secret

followed her 

to the end

and secretly 

no one believed

what they wrote about her

in the paper that day.

It was not until 

much later in my life

in a moment of sad clarity

before I realized 

I had inherited 

her secret

and it still

was no secret

to anyone.

Ken Owen

Van Niddy Press   May 2018

Sam was Drunk Last Night

Sam was drunk last night.

You could tell 

by the late night 

      emails 

he was sending

They didn’t make 

much sense

He was worrying 

about

         things 

already passed

that he could no longer

do anything about 

and it kept him awake

and he knew it was silly

so he sent his

    apologies 

as well

but he was 

worried

just the same

But I just 

laughed

because I know

you don’t have to 

be drunk 

to catch yourself

looking behind you

for what has already

passed you by

Ken Owen 

Van Niddy Press    April 2018

Dirty Looks

(The Importance of Napping)

My dog gives me 

dirty looks.

I’m sure of it.

If I cough or sneeze 

while he is sleeping

and startle him awake

he’ll quickly lift his head 

suspend it in mid-air

and just stare at me

thinking the thoughts

of an exasperated dog

then he’ll slowly lower

his head back down

and heave a deep sigh of frustration 

at having to start his nap 

all over again 

from the beginning 

and if I should make

this unpardonable sin

more than once in a session

he will slowly rise up and

find himself a new spot 

to continue his nap

undisturbed

while silently cursing

his bad misfortune 

in having to deal 

with such insolence.

I understand completely.

Ken Owen

Van Niddy Press  April 2018