Nancy Calhoun

 

 

OUT TO DINNER

We took a table in a small café
some would describe as graceless.
Not much ambiance, not much class.

The neon beer sign over the bar
glowed a garish pink and piped-in
cowboy guitar played too loud.

We ordered wine and looked around
where a few other couples
were silhouetted in the dim light.

Neither the wine nor the meal was memorable
but as we waited for dessert,
you took my hand.

Not being one for public displays,
I knew you hoped no one noticed,
but I, loving your touch,

knew that every couple
in this charmless little place
wished that they were us.

—From Sip Wine, Drink Stars

CP

After several years as a business executive, opera singer, and general seeker-after-enlightenment, Nancy Calhoun has found her calling as a poet. Her first collection is entitled Sip Wine, Drink Stars and is available here, along with more about her and her work. Nancy lives in southeast Arizona’s wine country, and writes beside a panoramic view of mountains, grasslands and wildlife.

Nancy Calhoun

Just Listen

What do I need from you, you ask?
How can I help?

You can do so much,
but nothing much;
nothing much, but it is everything.

No strategies, theories and please,
no solutions.
Just listen. Just listen.

why would you think you know
what I should do in a life
you have never lived?

My solution is within me,
we both know that.

What I need from you is
your full attention

so that I might hear
my own answers,
in my own voice.

If you always have a plan,
and always know what decisions
I should make,

I will have to
stop asking
you for help.

—From Sip Wine, Drink Stars


CP

After several years as a business executive, opera singer, and general seeker-after-enlightenment, Nancy Calhoun has found her calling as a poet. Her first collection is entitled Sip Wine, Drink Stars and is available here, along with more about her and her work. Nancy lives in southeast Arizona’s wine country, and writes beside a panoramic view of mountains, grasslands and wildlife.

Nancy Calhoun

Catching My Breath

wrecked on a beach
washed over by tidal
cycles, starfish in my hair
silken strands of seaweed
slip beneath my head
the effort to move
too great

depleted, used up,
worn down
hope expired,
catastrophe and monotony
drain the pool of energy
that nourishes

pinned down by gravity,
lodged in the surging
deluge I search for reprieve
where can I go to breathe?
a moth with sodden wings
unable to rise, barely sentient.

I think I may slip to the brink,
then, the sky is gone mad
with light and music
that lies unbidden
in the crater of my heart
compels what remains
of my passion to push
up the hill to the face
of the mountain
where fear goes to die

pausing in the deep shadow
where the wind blows
across my wings, I feel
my lungs begin to fill
with the sweet calm air of peace
I am, at last, home
where everything has changed
but nothing is different.

—From Sip Wine, Drink Stars


CP

After several years as a business executive, opera singer, and general seeker-after-enlightenment, Nancy Calhoun has found her calling as a poet. Her first collection is entitled Sip Wine, Drink Stars and is available here, along with more about her and her work. Nancy lives in southeast Arizona’s wine country, and writes beside a panoramic view of mountains, grasslands and wildlife.

Nancy Calhoun

Cardiac Unrest

I wait alone
in a crowd of the worried and afraid
while they probe your hesitating heart
my own beating a fearful tattoo
willing the panicky taste to leave my mouth

closing my eyes I see you on the table
in my crazed mind an ethereal glow surrounds
a swarm of wizards in masks and tall hats
waving wands of mystery over your draped body
snaking a tiny battleship through your veins

I wait, feeling chilled, dreamlike
for the head wizard to emerge to pronounce
the exorcism successful, the war won,
and imagine you leaping from the table
in cape and tights,

your heart able to beat in my chest again.

—From Sip Wine, Drink Stars

CP

After several years as a business executive, opera singer, and general seeker-after-enlightenment, Nancy Calhoun has found her calling as a poet. Her first collection is entitled Sip Wine, Drink Stars and is available here, along with more about her and her work. Nancy lives in southeast Arizona’s wine country, and writes beside a panoramic view of mountains, grasslands and wildlife.

Nancy Calhoun

Evening

The sun descends behind the mountain we call ours,
pale orange blush bleeds into shadow play
and begins to lay the quiet blanket down
for night to stand the watch.

Nighthawks plunge with swooping echo,
now a purple mist their darkening backdrop.
Distant coyotes summon the pack for the hunt,
while cool breezes blow away the remainder of the sun

In the deepening dark we speak softer, sip wine,
drink stars, taste gratitude thick on our lips.
Like a chorus, the tranquil hush sings
the words heard at the level of the heart.

It is enough they say, enough for the soul,
this spot on a hill where we make our home,
a sanctuary to protect what remains of
our dreams, tenderly holding us in its palm.

CP

Nancy Calhoun recently retired from corporate America. She has also sung opera part-time (quite well known in places no one has ever heard of). She lives in a small ranch town in southeast Arizona, in a home nestled in grasslands on a hill surrounded by mountains. Its beauty inspires her every day as she writes by the window, with opera playing on her Ipod.

Nancy Calhoun

Remembering Mother

She smelled of smoke,
bourbon and Coty L’aimant,
each redolent scent, even now,
setting me on a futile trail
of memory and wistfulness.
she couldn’t cope with life or love
or laundry or childish tantrums;
stood on a ledge her entire life,
waving off attempts to talk her in,
discounting the love she required
with utter desperation, refusing to
believe herself worthy,
angry that no one knew how
to love her in the savage way
she craved, leaving her to find
her only dependable escape
in chemical happiness
and me searching
for something
I would never find
and could not
stop seeking.

CP

Nancy Calhoun recently retired from corporate America. She has also sung opera part-time (quite well known in places no one has ever heard of). She lives in a small ranch town in southeast Arizona, in a home nestled in grasslands on a hill surrounded by mountains. Its beauty inspires her every day as she writes by the window, with opera playing on her Ipod.

Nancy Calhoun

Howl

Don’t bother with the moon
howl instead at love
that weaves your breath with another’s,
sharing the intimacy of oxygen
only to take it back
while you still need to breathe.

Howl at the vampire of memory,
who broods in the labyrinth of empty rooms
and hedge mazes of remembered events.

Howl at loneliness that fills the lungs
and drapes itself heavily around the shoulders
while memories pile up
on your side of the bed.

CP

Nancy Calhoun recently retired from corporate America. She has also sung opera part-time (quite well known in places no one has ever heard of). She lives in a small ranch town in southeast Arizona, in a home nestled in grasslands on a hill surrounded by mountains. Its beauty inspires her every day as she writes by the window, with opera playing on her Ipod.

Nancy Calhoun

Autopsy Song

When I die
and they cut the “Y”
to determine why
they will clearly see
in the deep cavity
that used to be me
nothing but music.

Where organs belong
there is only song.
The notes will spill out,
bounce and roll about
the sterile floor.

arias
melodies
harmonies
symphonies

The music pumped
my rhythmic blood
and filled my tuneful veins
melody washing like a flood
sang to me in the night.
the songs will survive me
and remain in flight
in lyrical convergence
with all I ever loved

my death will have loosed
my opus for all time
and I will be known

at last.

CP

Nancy Calhoun recently retired from corporate America. She has also sung opera part-time (quite well known in places no one has ever heard of). She lives in a small ranch town in southeast Arizona, in a home nestled in grasslands on a hill surrounded by mountains. Its beauty inspires her every day as she writes by the window, with opera playing on her Ipod.