Poem: "Entwined"

Happy Friday! Here's a poem from the archives - this appears to be one of the first creative things I wrote after we moved from New Hampshire to Montana. Originally drafted October 23, 2008.

"Entwined"

Variable intonation -
raw imperfect separation -
inflections of then,
there, infected
by decisive glee in now, here.

Primarily, the mountain snow
(seeming first dreamed long ago)
calls together friends
of any weather
dismissing every distance, fear.

In humble tribute, autumn's pass
fosters change to cold and glass;
in swirl of sigh
breathe loose the furl
of waving standard, planted near.

Read futures in an ice reflection;
prophetic tones in recollection.
No matter how the
winds will scatter,
the binding brand shows clear.

(c) Jane P. B. Hozier

Poem: "Insert Title Here"

I occasionally write poems, though much less often than I did in college and before. The subject I always circle back to is language. I've had a longstanding love-hate relationship with words. Here's a poem I wrote in August of 2015. POLITICAL DISCLAIMER: "Every word is a lie" is a poetic turn of phrase that leads somewhere else; it is NOT an endorsement of "alternative facts" AT ALL EVER.

Every word is a lie that tells itself true.
Before we gave it a sound, what color was blue?
Before we said it sang, did the wind have a voice?
What’s the flavor of home, what’s the weight of a choice?

Without words don’t we know what’s right from what’s wrong?
What did we feel before love came along?
These pearls of power, these kernels of truth,
Exist between tongue, lip, throat, jaw, and tooth.

The marks that we make out from mind, eye, and hand,
Spell out the stars, tides and sea, rising land.
Gone, forgotten, the things never given a name…
Yet unspoken, they lived, loved, and died just the same.