Wendy Videlock

January 21, 2021

“On Ceremony” by Wendy VidelockPosted by

Wendy Videlock

ON CEREMONY

Rituals, anthropologists will tell us, are about transformation.
—Abraham Verghese

In winter the house
of grief deepens.
Down

in the dark earth,
small mouths sipping.
Someone

reading, someone
seeking some
kind

of feeling. Some kind
of healing.
A child has eyed

a star

spangled banner,
the grey dove’s
feather,

another bleak
scandal. There,

in the window, someone
burns
a solitary candle.

—from Poets Respond
January 21, 2021

__________

Wendy Videlock: “A reflecting pool and a song of grief and grace reminded me we can’t, of our checkered past, unknow, or erase.” (web)

Rattle Logo

September 22, 2020

“Here in the West” by Wendy VidelockPosted by

Wendy Videlock

HERE IN THE WEST

Here in the west, whatever
one’s pain,
one never complains
about the rain.
What’s good for the plains
is bad for harvest.
What freezes in spring
is sugar-beet borrowed.
The river depletes.
The groves expire.
What blooms
in summer is wildfire.

—from Poets Respond
September 22, 2020

__________

Wendy Videlock: “This little poem rose from this article—and from the ashes that fell into our backyard for weeks from the largest fire in Colorado history—which, though violent, erratic and devastating to the air quality, crops and wildlife throughout the southwest, is hardly newsworthy compared to what’s been happening in California. Reports of fires that threaten people or structures are fought vigorously and take precedence over wilderness burning on BLM. But anyone living in the west knows full well it isn’t just California and Oregon on fire—the west as we know it, is on fire.” (web)

Rattle Logo

January 22, 2020

“Sticks and Sky” by Wendy VidelockPosted by

Wendy Videlock

STICKS AND SKY

I am steeped in the sticks and stuck on the sky.
The sky is wider than a Twitter feed.
Unplug for a spell, and you’ll understand why

to over feed is to sleep with a capital lie.
The sparrow prefers a world that is wide, and treed.
I am steeped in the sticks and stuck on the sky,

and drawn to the root where the river runs dry.
The sound of the rain is a scattering seed.
Unplug for a spell and you’ll understand why

what you feed is the same as what you buy.
We’ve been given the lobe, and the mighty bleed.
I am steeped in the sticks and stuck on the sky—

a crescent moon and the stars are my fourth of July.
The sparrow prefers an action to a creed.
Unplug for a spell and you’ll understand why

it’s good to be kind outside the public eye.
To learn the difference between word, and deed.
I am steeped in the sticks, and stuck on the sky;
unplug for a spell, and you’ll understand why.

—from Rattle #65, Fall 2019

__________

Wendy Videlock: “Something tells me that if all our world leaders read poetry, wrote poetry, or were involved deeply in any of the arts, we’d have a far better chance at achieving world peace.” (web)

Rattle Logo

March 13, 2017

“I Have Been Counting My Regrets” by Wendy VidelockPosted by

Wendy Videlock

I HAVE BEEN COUNTING MY REGRETS

I have been counting my regrets.
Bacon, Facebook, cigarettes.
Anger. Bluster. Laziness.
Fearfulness, indifference,
lousy lovers, stupid bets—
things that should not be confessed.
I’m still not dead. It should be said
I haven’t finished counting yet.

—from Rattle #54, Winter 2016

__________

Wendy Videlock: “I think I am a devotee of poetry in large part because it refuses paraphrase, has little interest in good manners, and doesn’t have a dress code.” (website)

Rattle Logo

March 10, 2017

“The Question Ever” by Wendy VidelockPosted by

Wendy Videlock

THE QUESTION EVER

The question ever
on my tongue,

whether flustered
or in love,
whether hawk
or mourning dove,
whether silk
or boxing glove

is what
are you so afraid of.

—from Rattle #54, Winter 2016

__________

Wendy Videlock: “I think I am a devotee of poetry in large part because it refuses paraphrase, has little interest in good manners, and doesn’t have a dress code.” (web)

Rattle Logo

January 9, 2017

“Redress” by Wendy VidelockPosted by

Wendy Videlock

REDRESS

It is good practice to call
a liar a liar,

or haul off and tell
a weasel to shove it,

but I shan’t
make an occupation of it.

—from Rattle #53, Fall 2016

__________

Wendy Videlock: “I’ve begun to think in recent years that I’m a disciple of poetry because language itself is a night sky, a roiling sea, and a mystery religion.” (link)

Rattle Logo

June 28, 2016

“The Void” by Wendy VidelockPosted by

Wendy Videlock

THE VOID

It isn’t that it’s dark.
It’s not that it’s big.
It’s the indigo in it
that sticks like a bitch.
The brutal fact is
it’s smaller than a fist.
Lighter than a chore.
It has no core.
The thing just is.
It’s bonafide.
This doesn’t mean
your hands are tied.
Declare yourself
a private war. Sing
to it. Fall in love with it.
Beat it with a stick.
Throw open every door.
It might stick less.
It might stick
more.

—from Rattle #31, Summer 2009

__________

Wendy Videlock: “I live on the Western Slope of the Colorado Rockies, where I am frequently assaulted by poems.” (website)

Rattle Logo