Last Chance

This short poem was written for Poetic Asides, on the topic 'last chance.'

Last Chance

 This past year brought many last chances
but I did not know then that this was so.
I think that this is true for each of us as
we go about our lives without deep thought,
believe we always have tomorrow. We do
not realize that perhaps what we contemplate
is our last opportunity. So I say grab the ring
when you can. It may present itself only once.
Don't miss what may be your last chance.

Peace Wash Over Me

For We Write Poems. We had to take the last line from an earlier poem of ours and make it the first line.
The last line is from my earlier poem  Lost and Found


Peace Wash Over Me

Peace, wash over me
as one year ends and
another year begins.
Give me hope tomorrow
will be brighter than today,
let me enjoy the moments
as they come without
expecting more. And
when I lie my head down
the last night of the year
let me sleep with faith,
not only hope, that a new
year will bring good news.

Celebrate

(For Writers Island - prompt: celebrate)

Celebrate

Celebrate!
It was impossible this year.
The holiday approached
without me taking note.

No cards sent,
no presents bought,
no concerts attended.
Days were all the same,

yielded nothing good.
I've never had a Christmas
like this one, never want
one like this again.

It's over now, Christmas,
but for me it never came.

Socks

(Written for Poets United)

Socks

My aunt taught me to darn sockss
over a light bulb. This was quite an art
and as a child I enjoyed trying to master it.
As a child I had lots of time. Darning socks

was play to me. Mother never darned socks.
When socks wore out, she pitched them.
Darning stockings was foolish to her.
Eventually when I had less time I agreed.

Does anyone darn stockings anymore?
Somehow I doubt it. I must throw out
a pair or two of socks a week, as they
always get holes in the heel as I walk

with only socks all day. At first I thought
I must not be buying high quality socks,
so I switched to Nike. Nothing changed.
I buy dozens of socks, easy to throw away.

Happiness

(For We Write Poems:  Prompt - the pursuit of happiness)
Happiness

 I had happiness
lots of it.
now I don't think
about it
much
I just move
one foot
another foot
survival mode
but in my mind
I picture it again
end of January
why not?

There Came a Day

There Came a Day

There came a day when I realized
I have to do things I never wanted to do,
one task at a time. I do not know if I
will accomplish, nor know the end result.
I do what I must, make progress,
hope eventually everything necessary
will be done so I will be free to think
again not only of what I must do but
also of what I really want to do.
I hope I can remember.

Forgiveness

(written for Poets United prompt - forgiveness)

Forgiveness

Forgiveness did not come easy
I couldn't let go, was hurt, wronged
by someone I loved so much.
Few people have the ability

to hurt me as much as did she.
People urged me to forgive, said
forgiveness would give me peace.
I understood that in my mind,

could not embrace it with my heart,
did not know if I could ever forgive.
I hate to admit my heart was hard.
Time passed. She reached out.

She who despised me sent signals.
Tentatively I reached back, did not
want to be wounded again by one
who knew  my vulnerabilities.

She was adult now, a mother herself,
and that made a major difference.
She saw life under a different light.
All stories do not have happy endings.

This one does. My older daughter
is now one of the closest people
in my world. We have both forgiven
and now wonder for what!

Sledding

(Written for Magpie Tales)

Sledding

When I was a child of ten I sledded on the seventh hole
of a nearby golf course. I walked there alone with sled,
saucer, or cardboard sheet. No adults supervised,

no parents feared. We children made the rules,
cooperated, did not argue. Older protected young.
All were safe, took turns. No one got hurt ever.

I took for granted this was the way life was.
Little did I know that these times were limited, the world
would change, would no longer be safe for children

to sled by themselves, to make their own rules,
to be without adult supervision. I cry for children
today, but they know nothing different, are happy,

someday will write about the winter they were ten,
as if it was the most perfect time ever. It will be.

Perhaps Someday

(For Writers' Island prompt - quest & Poets United Poetry Pantry)

Perhaps Someday

I'm not Don Quixote today
am not ready for a quest
as quests are for the strong
and right now all I can do
is right foot, left, right again.

I am not saying never,
but quests cannot be forced
or they explode in your face
and you blow up in the wind
eyeing the distant windmill.

Enough

(Big Tent Poetry prompt - enough)

Enough

I keep thinking I have enough!
Enough happiness, enough fun,
enough love, enough adventure
to last for a lifetime. Trust me,
I have led a good life thus far.
But then again I realize, perhaps
selfishly, that I really want more,
and though I am satisfied with
what life has given me thus far
I think that as long as I live,
part of being alive, is to crave more.
If we desire nothing, we die.

.

Some Days are Like This

Some Days are Like This

I opened the door to my mind and came
upon Myself eating pizza, anchovies yet.
I told Myself I hated anchovies, but she
answered back, You want to bet? Myself
glared at me with a let's-fight-then grin
and said At least it isn't chopped liver.

My mind seemed to have gone crazy
or maybe it was due to the anchovies
and the telephone that rang and rang,
but when I answered no one spoke.
I wondered if it blared only in my mind,
but why did it indicate I had a message?

Myself told me life is not what it appears,
there are always mysteries, no answers.
If I tell stories about anchovies, ringing
phones, no messages, opening doors
to my  mind, others will consider me crazy.
Maybe, just maybe, I am.  And you?

Lessons Learned

(Poetic Asides - lessons learned.  I will be responding to people tomorrow.  Promise.  If you find me, I will find you. I am dead tired tonight.)

Lessons Learned

I learn lessons the slow way
experience doesn't always teach
I need to be hit with a jack hammer
and then it sinks in.

I disposed of 'stuff' today that
I should have rid myself of earlier.
They took up space and I didn't want
to move these things again.

Things sat for decades, now are gone.
I don't miss them. Odd how this happens.
I hold on and hold on, then let go
and find I don't care. But I learn

lessons the slow way, know I have
many more lessons to learn, and
know I have more pitching tomorrow.
And the day after that.

Next Step

(Poetic Asides: prompt - next step)

Next Step

It is hard to think of the next step
when I struggle to complete this step,
the step I have to take today,
the culmination of past steps,
but I am too tired to look beyond.

There must be a next step
I know that for sure.
There always will be until I die,
hopefully later than sooner.
I will think about it tomorrow.

What Really Happened?

This poem was written for Poetic Asides...topic:  What really happened? My older daughter and I went through some turbulent times when she was in high school and for a few years after.  Now...all is behind us, and we are very close.  She lives in TX.  Her husband is career army.  She has two sons 9 & 11
years old and is expecting a daughter in less than a month.

What Really Happened?

What really happened
is up for interpretation.
I have my story, and
she has her story;
and I am sure stories
are the same in parts
but differ in parts too.

We had some rough years,
and I wondered if we'd ever
come anywhere close again,
but today  it doesn't matter
as we love and appreciate
each other now, past differences
are history, unchangeable,
but unimportant today.

I think perhaps we may be
closer than ever because
of what we went through.
What really happened so
long ago? It no longer matters.
I am so thankful for today
and a beautiful relationsip.

Blame

(Poetic Asides - PAD - blame)

Blame

The word blame tires me.
One person blames another,
politicians find fault,
children blame parents,
criminals blame society,
sinners blame God,
but are blameless themselves.
So many point a finger,
wag their tongues,
sneer in disgust,
but have no answer,
do nothing at all
to make a situation better.
The word blame tires me.

Wondering

Poetic Asides prompt:  running

Wondering

I wonder how far
I could run from myself
if I wanted to escape me.
But where I would go
and how long would it be
before I'd meet myself
running the opposite direction?

Life is sometimes filled with enigmas,
questions without easy answers

Dogs

Note that the picture above is a painting by our artist friend Nyra Aherne from Australia of the dogs who definitely RULE

(Poetic Asides - Poem a Day - Animal)


Dogs

The dogs rule this house.
We humans think we arrange things.
Wrong it is the dogs who determine
agenda, see it is carried out.

Personal Space

(Poetic Asides - PAD - 'space')

Personal Space

Some people do not understand
the necessity of personal space.
One woman comes to mind.
She was a substitute teacher

when I was a teacher, and was
very short. I always wondered
if her shortness had something
to do with it. When she talked to

someone it always looked like
what she was saying to them
was confidential as she stood
ten inches from their face. This

drove me crazy when it was me..
I would constantly back up, try
to keep a suitable social distance.
But if I backed up, she would walk

toward me. Sometimes I would stick
my foot out in the way so she could
not move closer, but this was awkward.
Obviously her definition of suitable space

was different than mine. On top of this
she had body odor, and her clothes smelled
of perspiration, so when she moved close
it was unpleasant for more than one reason.

She was a good substitute teacher though.
I appreciated that, didn't want to alienate her,
but always wondered why her idea of space
was so different than that of other people.

Swim

(for We Write Poems - prompt: swimmng)

Swim

I sit on the beach chair
overlook the turquoise pool,
inviting, uninhabited, tranquil.

Pool water ripples slightly,
calls to me in my solitude.
I'll be the lone swimmer today.

I put foot into the water,
feel its crisp coolness,
another foot, whole body now,

move in the water, feel energetic,
savor the breath of summer
and all that is good.

I relish the breeze,
the sun, the warm air,
being alive as I swim

in this crystalline pool.
No cares beyond today,
I enjoy this moment, now

Life is Not Easy

(Poetic Asides Prompt - form poem - I wrote a cascade poem)

Life is not Easy

Life is not easy
there are simple joys
I go to bed tired

Sometimes it seems
difficulties multiply,
life is not easy.

Grandchildren are special
so innocent and trusting,
there are simple joys.

At the end of each day
I am exhausted,  and
I go to bed tired.

No Stands, Thank You

(Poetic Asides - PAD - stands)

No Stands, Thank You

I'm not interested in stands anymore

I'll take care of my life,

you take care of yours.

I'll go to my church

and you go to yours.

You vote for your candidate

and I'll vote for mine.

You follow your philosophy

and I'll follow mine.

If we disagree

I will shrug it off.

Today I prefer to smell flowers.

Permission

(Poetic Asides - PAD - permission)

Permission


I need permission to say
I don't think I can do it.
I want to put feet up on couch,
stare out of the window,
and let the world go by.

I need permission to say
I need help, can't do it alone,
don't have the strength,
am not super woman, don't
want to lose all by trying.

I need permission to say
I'm scared, more scared
than I have  been in life.
I wish I would wake up
and have my old life back.

I'm Fine!

Poem a Day Poetic Asides  Dat 20

I'm Fine

Nothing is wrong
All is just fine
Isn't that the usual line?
Someone asks,
How are you? Anything wrong?
You say I'm fine, and you?
Just Fine
And now conversation
moves on,
formalities out of the way.
Not many people want to know
the other side of the coin.
Damn, life sucks right now.
I'm exhausted totally
and in above my head.
No one wants to hear that.
I try to carry on
in the usual way.
Fine, I say,
I am just fine!.
But can I say Shit?

Holes

(Poetic Asides - PAD - Holes)

Holes

Holes--
where do I start?
Probably with the hole in my heart.
How can I mend a hole
when I am heartbroken?
That is my question.
I realize I am no fun anymore,
my smiles are forced,
my optimism fraudulent.
I can't help it.
This is not me!
Wait, I guess it is.
My life is full
of holes with more
on the horizon..

Lost and Found

(Poetic Asides - poem a day - lost and found)

Lost and Found

I'm just plain lost
fear I'll never be found
hide out in my mind
feet stuck in the ground.

I can't move ahead
the future can't foresee
if I ignore my fears
peace, wash over me.

Eleven

(For Magpie Tales)


ELEVEN

I was eleven years old long ago,

wish I had memories of that year

though I see myself smiling.

Where do memories of

my eleventh year reside?

How can I conjure them?

I could make up stories,

call them memories.

Who would know the difference?

For sure, you wouldn't.

I might believe them,

harmless fun.

But I won't tease you

or me

I can't be deceitful

though I wish to be

All I have of my eleventh year

is a smile

Tell Me Why

(Poetic Asides - PAD - Tell Me Why....)

TELL ME WHY

Tell me why they played loud country western music
in the McDonalds we visited just to use their WiFi
and why I ordered a coffee I really didn't want at all.

Tell me why we couldn't download the program anyway,
why the glitch we couldn't straighten happened right then,
why the music blared so loud I knew I was in hell.

Tell me why I was so stupid and left car headlights on
while we thought we were going to download the program
so when we wanted to leave the car didn't start. Screwed.

Then tell me why it took one and a half hours for AAA
to come to jump the car while the music volume increased,
the country music blared with no familiar songs at all.

Tell me why my head began to pound as I watched people
come and people go,  felt caught in some kind of warp,
in a different time and different place, could not escape.

Meanwhile time moved slowly, singers screamed and shrieked,
twanged their guitars with hard luck stories, as head pounded.
I wondered if I was crazy. Tell me why I wanted to scream.

Wisdom

(a "wordle" for "We Write Poems"  -  all words used)

Wisdom
Wisdom can be found
by studying ancient history.
So much blood was shed,
mockery of right and wrong.
Bring on the wine
all can be forgotten.
Life is divine, but I give all
at the hour of my death,
am resident within this
body only a short time.

Stacks

(Poetic Asides - prompt: stacks)

Stacks

Stacks of cards
so many games
can be played.

Stacks of chips
not very useful
I don't gamble.

Stacks of dreams
most behind me
looking for more.

Stacks of leaves
raked and waiting
to be bagged

Stacks of boxes
with stacks of memories
Who will want them?

Stacks of plates
in the cupboard
let's have a party.

Stacks of coins
three to throw
in the fountain.

No One Is Safe

(For Poetic Asides -- Just when I thought I was safe)

No One is Safe

When I was a child I had a nightmare.
I am alone in my house, doors locked,

safe, warm, cozy. I look out the window
and see a group of bears in the distance.

I see them now, still vivid, in my mind.
They approach closer, closer, step, step.

I cannot leave my house, no escape,
but sense I am not safe within. The bears

reach my yard, now doors, smash wood
as toothpicks, glass shatters, bear arms

reach through. No place to hide. Desperate,
panicked, my heart races. I scream myself awake.

Life was never again quite the same.
Still isn't.

Crossroads

Crossroads

I stand immobile on the crossroads, as
traffic comes at me from all directions.
There is no escape from being crushed
from one direction or another.
Something will hit me, get me,
it is just a matter of time.
I am sad, very sad, as I bide my time
but yet it is almost peaceful here
calm before inevitable storm
and there is sleep that gives respite
when it happens as it should
and it doesn't always happen.
There are still prayers that
the worst case scenario will
not happen, that God does listen.
I have to keep the faith.

Quandary

(For Writers Island:  This is my second 'question' poem of the day.  I have been writing serious things for a number of days, so I decided to lighten it up with this fairly frivolous poem that is really not me at all. LOL. )

Quandary

Which pair of shoes shall I wear today
and to go with which pair of jeans?
Sweater or jacket, what is the weather?
Should I have coffee or tea with toast?
What should I do with my precious time?
Movie, theater, or shopping then dinnner?
And who shall I phone to accompany me?
Dear, oh dear, should I have my hair done?
Many quandaries, and who will help decide?

What Do you Do?

(Poetic Asides - PAD - question prompt)

What Do you Do?

What do you do when
     questions are hard?
     answers are hard?
     you cannot question?
     you cannot answer?
     you want to bury your head?
     you cannot bury your head?
You write poetry.

(Note:  I am sorry for the dark poetry of late. I just write what comes. I hope the period of 'dark' will pass.  I appreciate greatly people's comments here (poetry does help) and hope people are not driven away by darkness, which really is unlike me.)

The Confession

(for Big Tent Poetry - based on NYT best seller title The Confession)

The Confession


The crime had been near perfect
so her confession was shocking.
She just couldn't live with herself
and the horrible deed she'd done.
She thought she could, she tried,
money was good, but her deed
gnawed at her until she finally
phoned the proper authorities,
told them she did it, and why.
Jailed now, her mind is free.

Forget What Candidates Say

Forget what candidates say
when they run for office.
It's easy to say what they'll do
before they sit in the chair.

Making promises is easy
keeping promises is not
even if candidates want to
variables will interfere.

Politics is a difficult path
for even the well intentioned
Voters are a fickle lot, will
clap today and boo tomorrow.

No One Wants

No One Wants


No one wants to lose one's job, fail a test,
get a speeding ticket, have a house fire,
go bankrupt, be on the outside looking in.

No one wants to go to dentist or doctor,
to be diagnosed with Alzheimers, cancer,
Parkinson's, multiple sclerosis, or ALS.

No one wants to be in pain, overweight,
break an arm, be criticized, unhappy, alone,
angry, treated unfairly. No one wants to die.

No one wants to write a poem about
things one doesn't want because there
are so many that cry out for mention.

Love

(PAD topic - love)

Love

I have written many love poems in my life
but they cannot be written on demand
and I have nothing more to say, but
does that mean I don't love? It doesn't.
Does it mean I don't believe it's important?
No it doesn't. It is just one of those
overworked subjects, and I refuse
to struggle to find a new approach.
Not today, not tonight. Perhaps never.

If Only I Could Heal....

(We Write Poems)

If Only I Could Heal......

If only I could heal myself
always be the person I wish to be
never lapse into the kind of person
I never wanted to be.
I can hold it together only so long
then I fail mightily, despise myself
for my failings, despicable me.

Slow

(PAD)

Slow #1


I reject slow
it is not me
nothing about me is slow
can't identify and
have a hard time with
anything that is
slow.


Slow #2

I never slow down
cannot slow down
if I slow down
I will not finish
what I need to do
have to keep moving
no other way
for me.

Agreement

Agreement

To agree with someone is the easy thing.
Smile and nod and clap with the sheep, as
there are always lots of people who agree
because if they do not agree they will be
asked to come up with a different solution.

Profanity

(PAD - Day 7)

Pro-Profanity

Today I am pro-profanity, though
I never was when I was young
and felt guilty if I even said darn.
I'm no longer afraid of the words.

Sometimes it helps to curse
even if under one's breath
or aloud driving my car alone
and a fool cuts me off on the road

Not that I would tell someone
to head to a downward place
or take a savior's name in vain
or be profane in front of grands,

I don't believe in that, but at times
it feels good to cuss for stress relief,
shock value, if only inside my head
I'm purposefullly pro-profanity now!

So watch out!

Looking for Answers

Looking for Answers

I'm looking for the answers
to the tough questions of life
knowing the questions will
get even tougher tomorrow.

Damn, why doesn't life get easier
the more experience one has living?
Why are great challenges presented
when one should have the most fun?

I guess I'll just slog on, try to
keep my head above water, hope
answers will reveal themselves
in time, that I won't drown looking.

Thoughts in the Wind

Thoughts in the Wind

I toss my thoughts in the wind
let them drift where they wish
traveling on the breeze
with red and yellow leaves
on the wings of a butterfly..

I toss my ideas to the wind
scatter them like seeds
over forest floor not knowing
where they will take root
but only THAT they will.

I throw my dreams in the wind
know the wind will steer them
in the direction they should go
forward ever forward.

I throw my love to the wind
know love isn't easy and
isn't always rewarding but
returns the best gifts of all.

I toss my fears to the wind
decide to risk all because
what is life if all is totally

safe but without adventure?

Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis
is imposed by nature

no other options, it is the way of life,

caterpillar becomes butterfly,

tadpole becomes a frog

and sometimes it happens,

just happens to humans,

by one person's choice or the other's

or no one's choice at all

that change occurs suddenly

or slowly over time

and one looks back and

wonders how it happened

without anyone's notice

until finally both awaken and see

that life is different now

than it was and probably

has forever changed.

Metamorphosis.

If Only....

(for Big Tent Poetry - based on Victoria's (liv2write2day) words: "If only Autumn would not go away so soon")


If Only...


If only Autumn would not go away so soon
I would take more walks, kick more leaves,
take more time to stretch arms to the sun,
hold off the chill of winter long as I could.

If only the fresh newness of green had lasted,
oranges and reds were more appreciated
before the inevitable turn to crisp brown.
Way too soon even brown will be gone.

Containment

Containment

 I carry a tote bag with me
to the YMCA. It includes
everything I need. It
contains things valuable
to me. My iPod, Kindle,
grandaughter's pullups,
a notebook to record
time, distance, calories.
A pen. It contains all
I need, but not all I want.

On the Tightrope

On the Tightrope

I walk the tightrope
balance pole in hand
tilt first one way then the other

try to achieve equilibrium
one step, then another, sway.
I must make it, keep moving

cannot lose my footing,
no safety net below.
Eyes fixed straight ahead,

I do not divert left or right
can't hesitate or I will fall.
I perceive no dangers below

or dangers on either side.
Concentration is the key
.......to everything.

Ready...or Not

Ready

I'm ready to start something
not sure what, but something
when I have time to start it
when I have energy to start it
when I have an idea on what.
I'd like to start something new,
but I think it will be a while.
Meanwhile I'll plug along
doing the best old I can.


Probably Not Ready

I don't know if I am ready
I don't know if I'm prepared
I might think I am sometime
but at other times I lapse
into the stressed-out person
I try to hide from myself, the
one who cries or screams,
the one who doesn't think.


Not Ready

.Who is ever ready for bad news?
Who welcomes it with open arms?
Hogwash that God only gives one
what one can handle. Platitudes
don't cut it, and in fact people who
quote them piss me off.

Turning the Pages

Turning the Pages

She wrote the happy ending
the novel was going to have
had it planned out perfectly
page after happy page
then the ending changed
the novel proposed to write itself
decided not to follow the rules
took off in its own direction
the ending transformed.
along with her life.

No Leave it To Beaver

The Cleaver Family

No Leave it to Beaver

Summer, I lie in my bedroom in an ordinary 1950's neighborhood.
Yellow, second floor, hot in summer, screen windows open, ready
access to sights and sounds up and down the block.

Next door neighbor Howie drives into his driveway late again,
another night of carousing, cheats on his wife, everyone knows,
and one day Roseanne cried as she explained her black eye.

Larry and Margaret, on the other side, have no children, but have dogs
and sometimes wild parties. The priest visits, says they should
have children, as if it was his business. Those were the days..

Teen-aged Jackie across the street sits in a car with a boy again.
One time she lived away from home for a few months, no explanation,
no questions asked, but she would graduate with her high school class.

Down the block Charles is twenty-five years older than Virginia.
Two sons, both with different features. Younger son born when Charles
was sixty-five looks like the children of the florist who often visits.

The bedroom is hot. If only I could sleep. I wish life really was like
it is in Leave it to Beaver. Every house has a story I can see from
my window. Here comes another car. I'll see where it goes.

Masquerade

(for Writers Island - prompt: masquerade)

Masquerade

Halloween disguise
who will she impersonate
where will she party?

Cowgirl or hippie
which role to assume this year
old dreams resurrect.

Beneath masquerade
there is a toothless demon
the mask will remain.

Werewolf is present
conceals jagged white teeth
beneath faux fur cape.

Her smile is facade
inside she is heartsick
despite outer glow.

Her costume the clown
bright red lips with pointed hat
conceals pointed head.

She walks down the street
among ghosts and werewolves
does she notice you?

Fear

(Poets United Prompt - fear)

Fear

Witches, ghouls, goblins, and werewolves are small stuff.

Bring on cancer, Alzheimers, Parkinsons, Lou Gehrigs,

an auto accident, a fall downstairs, multiple sclerosis,

all real fears as Halloween approaches

and fears that will remain when Halloween passes by!

Life and Death

(Mag 38)

Life and Death

Life,

where did you go?

You were over in a blink of the eye.

All that remains of me is dust,

a crumbling gravestone, and my spirit

that floats above my lonely grave.

Where are they who said they

would tend my grave when I was gone?

Family and friends who professed to care

when there was something to be gained?

Surely there must be just one who

can look after my simple grave.

Is it you?



Yellow Brick Road

Yellow Brick Road

"Just follow the yellow brick road" -- Wizard of Oz

I searched for the Yellow Brick Road,
thought I found it in my backyard,
but when I thought I was close it was
a mirage that would only disappear
when I thought I was so very near.

I searched for the Yellow Brick Road,
thought I spied it on the horizon,
but when I walked in its direction
until I dropped in exhaustion,
I was unable to reach the elusive destination..

I searched for the Yellow Brick Road
until I realized it does not exist.
There is no path to take, except
the path I forge myself, through
thicket and brambles and thorns.

Mystery

Mystery

The sun reflects on the ocean

tonight as it is about to set.

The ocean is more vast than ever.

Its depth and its breadth astound me.

Its waves, like fingers, reach in all directions,

and as I watch the waves I contemplate

the mysteries contained beneath the reflection.

These waters were used by the ancients

who traveled one island to another.

I squint my eyes, can almost see them

in their outrigger canoes, sleek and fast.

Strong men with paddles that move in unison.

Soundless. The outriggers glide past.

No longer squinting, I wave. The ocean fingers

wave back to me. I'm curious if the ancients ever

squinted into their ocean and could see me

standing here, right here, in the distance

just out of reach. I wonder if they waved,

if I waved back.

Journey

(Writers Island prompt - emerge)


Journey

I walk sad, tears flow down my face,
the ocean my companion at my side.
I escape into waves, surf them wild,
toss hair to wind, stay above water, strong.
I breathe into the waves absorb them.
They absolve me, but I cannot shake free..

Sun warms my arms, doesn't penetrate despair.
I pluck a plumeria from the place it thrives,
place it in my hair. Its beauty now short-lived,
it will wither like me. Beauty surrounded
by tears. I look for the resurrection
in this scene.

I arrive at the market, the same destination
each journey has, with choices to make.
Mangos, papaya, lychee, starfruit. I select
some of each to take home. I will savor
sweet ripe fruits while I can. I must emerge
one more time from tears.

A Ghostly Happening

(For Big Tent Poetry)

A Ghostly Happening

We often played Starlight Moonlight
Do you see the Ghost tonight when it
was dark. No one expected to see a ghost,
but one time a ghost appeared. We screamed,

ran as fast as we could. I was never so afraid in
my life. I always knew ghosts were pretend,
but this ghost that chased us was so real.
Later my mother told us she was the ghost.

She smiled and laughed about the old sheet
she wore to form the ghost. I laughed too then,
had not thought my mother would do such a
thing. I didn't tell her I was really truly scared!

Betrayal

Betrayal


Betrayal stings. it happens
unexpected out of nowhere
someone I trusted, liked,
out of the blue stabs me
in the jugular, presents me
as I am not, goads me,
defames me, gloats in malicious
words which no one protests
so they continue.. Silence.
I feel like the person in New
York who has been beat up,
left on the street for dead,
and everyone walks by.
No one wants to get involved.
I stand alone, hurt. If I speak
I am slapped again. And
everyone watches. Silent.
New York again. I choose
not to speak. Cannot endure
the pain. If I say nothing,
it will perhaps go away.
I choose to say nothing.
It is easier that way; but
I feel betrayed, not only
by the one who speaks
but by the silence. And
now I am silent too.

Happy

        Happy

He works hard in his yard
alongside his watchful wife
who stands right beside him
directs every move he makes.

He used to drive his car
but doesn't drive anymore.
He used to take long walks,
now doesn't go out alone

If you wave, he'll wave back.
If you ask him a question,
the answer he gives you
may or may not make sense.

He enjoys life, is happy,
more happy than most,
has no cares in his world,
but won't remember your name.

But what's the harm in that?

Mirrors

(Written for Magpie Tales)


Mirrors

Mirrors reflect minutia
windblown hair, a frown
scar, chipped tooth,
wrinkled shirt, faded jeans,
designer labels, smart
smart hat tilted right,
expensive jewelry
glitz and bling.

Where is the mirror
that reflects spirit,
compassion, kindness,
perseverance, heart?
The mirror that shows
what goes on behind
the exterior facade?

Let Me Be the One

Let Me Be the One


Let me be the one who inspires you
to do what you might not have done.
Let me be the one who walks the path first
so that you will then comfortably follow,
even surpass what I have done

Let me be the one who accepts you
when you find it hard to accept yourself.
Let me be the one who tells you that
whatever you have done is all right
in fact perfect in my caring eyes.

Change

Change

Just when you think life is set
something happens to set you
on an unexpected course.

There is no such thing as a
fixed place in life. Every day
moves you one direction

or another and your body
ages one moment at a time.
Sometimes you look back,

wonder how you arrived at
the place you are now.
It is somewhere you didn't

know you wanted to go,
but then in the end
it all makes perfect sense.

There is no going back,
and you wait mouth open
for what's around the corner.

.

Crossroads

(Inspired by We Write Poetry)

Crossroads


Where will it lead?
I don't know
no idea
stuck in today
afraid of tomorrow
left or right
straight ahead
standing still
no one is pleased
wheels spin
crowd roars
tears and fears

no answer.

Unleashed Anger

Written for Writers Island:  "Unleashed"

Unleashed Anger

Unleashed anger
bubbles, ferments,
constricts heart
inflames lungs.

Nerves tense to snap
fist clenches to strike.
teeth brace to bite
legs tighten to run.

Adrenalin flows circular
churns, turns, devours,
deadens, kills slowly
with unspoken words.