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?