Endings

Endings


Endings are  hard for me
one ending reminds me of another
I relive each in slow motion.

The last week for Galen's 55
triggered a memory of when
someone said she hated me

and when I was on the porch
with my suitcase confused alone
and I remembered when she died.

Some people take endings in stride
but I am not one of those people
I may seem tough but I am soft inside.

Endings are hard for me,
one ending reminds me of another.
I relive each in slow motion.

For dVerse Open Link.
Also for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Gray Day

Gray Day

It is a very gray day
the sun forgot to shine

there is nothing good on TV
and no book I want to read

there are no poems to write
I can't rise from the couch

there is nothing good to eat
I don't feel like taking a walk

   .......and I know you are leaving.


This is my last 55 for G-Man.  It's been a great ride, Galen.  Enjoy that BIKE!

I think it is blank verse, as I understand it, for dVerse Meeting the Bar.

Petits Oiseaux

Petits Oiseaux 

Newborn sparrows fell from the tree

plummeted to the ground before my eyes

I placed them gently in a small box

soft tissue to protect their frail bones.

Little birds, I will help you

take you to a place where

you will be nurtured and grow

until you can fly away.

Je vous aime petits oiseaux

J'en ai les larmes aux yeux

Dieu vous aime aussi.

I drove the sparrows across town

to the local Humane Society

where they care for injured wildlife

until they can again be set free.

Little birds, they will help you

in this supportive place 

you will be nurtured and grow

until you can fly away.

Je vous aime petits oiseaux

J'en ai les larmes aux yeux

Dieu vous aime aussi.

I went back home empty-handed

the little sparrows in good care

but when I phoned the next morning

they told me the little birds had died.

Little birds, I cry for you

your lives were important to me

but I have to trust that now

you are in God’s hands.  ****

Je vous aime petits oiseaux

J'en ai les larmes aux yeux

Dieu vous aime aussi.

(****Matthew 10:29)

This is written for Susan's prompt for the Wednesday Midweek Motif at Poets United.  This week she asks us to write a bilingual poem.

Let Things Go

Let Things Go

If someone disappoints you
put it behind you
let it go, let it go.

If someone judges you unfairly
keep your head up high
let your confidence show.

Trust yourself
trust your heart
you know what you know.

If someone is closed-minded
don't be led to be the same
deal ignorance a blow.

There are so many things
that are beyond our control
let them go, let them go.

This is written for Laurie's prompt at Poetry Jam.  Her prompt this week is "Letting Go."

I Color Your Love

Feminine Wave - Katsushika Hokusai

I Color Your Love

Late afternoon cloudless sky

waves dancing in the deep ocean

eyes that reflect your soul

I color your love blue.

Delphiniums and hyacinths

your hand when it's cold

the jeans that you wear

I color your love blue.

Sapphire and topaz

warm rain on a spring day

melancholy songs hummed

I color your love blue.

Rich shades of the bluebird

a blueberry's sweet tang

your shadow at sunset

I color your love blue.

This is written for Tuesday's dVerse Poetics, where Abhra inspires us to write about coloring one's world.

Contemplation

Women on a Cafe Terrace in the Evening - Edward Degas - 1877

Contemplation

How many dreams can a woman dream
before she loses hope?

How many hopes can a woman have
before she loses faith?

How much faith is enough to sustain
a woman who feels alone?

How much alone can a woman endure
as her thoughts propel her inward?

How far inward can a woman travel
before she finds her center?

And when she finds her center
will she find her way out again?

This is written for Sunday's Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Mr. Knowitall

Mr. Knowitall - Galen

Mr. Knowitall

Admittedly it's hard for me
to embrace change,
like now,  when I think
G-Man will not be
doing 55's anymore.

And I realize that I'm
pretty much a new kid here,
but there is no one like Galen
who can wish me a kick-ass weekend
(and I know he's sincere)
in quite the same way.

This is submitted for G-Man's 55.

To Endure

To Endure

Basil bark-screamed loudly
was heard-noticed everywhere
in the veterinary practice
when he had to endure-tolerate
blood work to test-determine
immunity for parvo-distemper.

Basil was scared-freaked
by the needle-blood-draw
so they calm-anesthesized him
to make him drowsy-docile.

But now he has bruises
to show for his fight-protest
as I await the veterinarian call
to let me know if immunity passed.

Today I hope-pray he passes
otherwise poor dog will need vaccine
which he will not tolerate well
and which I was trying to avoid.

I hurt with Basil and understand
why he bark-screamed
at such needle-invasion.

His bruises will dull-fade
but his memory will not.

This was written for dVerse Meeting the Bar
where Bjorn is having us write poetry
using 'kennings.'

(I choose to test my dogs, rather than vaccinate them when possible because holistically I believe it is better to spare the dogs the vaccines IF their blood already shows they have immunity. To determine immunity they do a 'titer' test every three years.  My other dogs have always passed.  This is the first time I titer-tested Basil.  Keeping fingers crossed.  Of course, they ARE all vaccinated for rabies.)

A Sunny Day

A Sunny Day

A Sunny Day

Today is a sunny day somewhere

a special birthday somewhere

a day to celebrate everywhere

because spring begins tomorrow.

This poem is written for Poets United Mid-Week Motif, where Susan's theme this week is "happy birthday" and as a second contribution to dVerse Poetics where Grace has us writing to the artwork of Sunita Khedekar.  I used the painting "A Sunny Day" as inspiration.

Woo Woo Who?

Woo Woo Who?


In the night I hear
The owl calling
Woooo
Woooo
Who
are you to me?

And I ask
in return
Woooo
Woooo
Who
am I to you?

And neither of us
is willing to say
but we both know
and remain silent.

This is written for Alan's prompt of 'owls' at Poetry Jam.

Love Birds

Love Birds

Love Birds


In spring love birds come out to sing
when flavescent sun shines  in the sky
then indigo leaves do take their wing
and boats of azure happiness bring
in spring love birds come out to sing
then listen as saffron bells do ring
in spring love birds come out to sing
when flavescent sun shines  in the sky

This triolet is written for Grace's prompt at dVerse Poetics.
She asks us to use a painting from the blog of Sunita Khedekar
to inspire our poetry.  I used 'Love Birds.'

His Hands

His Hands

All his life he used his hands

     he would pitch a ball to his son
     he would work his garden for fun

     he drove his family on holiday
     on Sunday his hands would pray

     he built a tree house in his yard
     he held his family in high regard

     in the kitchen he often made bread
     he held the books he often read

     he developed Alzheimers one day
     and his wife then had hell to pay

     his hands were raised in threat
     his anger she could not forget

     he did not hold her in regard
     she always had to be on guard

     one day his hands gave her a shove
     this woman he claimed to love

     her arm was shattered to bits
     surgery and PT until it knits

     range of motion never to be the same
     but  he wants to come home again
   
All his life he used his hands.

A VERY fictionalized version of a real life story.   In the real life version,
she is not letting him return home.  She said she would fear for her life.

This is submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

    

Sleepless

Sleepless

In the night they bark
try to tell me something
that they hear
which I do not hear.

I listen
look outside, observe nothing
but dark silence.

they hear something more
so how can I sleep now
not knowing
who lurks in the dark

Sleepless,  alert, eyes open
I listen for sound of breaking glass.

This is written for G-Man's 55!

Broken

Broken


I feel sharp pain
touch my back, torn,
liquid warmth spurts
my blood all over
I can't move my arm
I don't want to pass out
silently I scream HELP!

I feel strong hands
hear deep calm voices
they ask me questions
I answer do not think
do what they say.

Totally their charge
hands position me
broken vulnerable helpless
lift me onto hard stretcher
blanket soft above me
carry me into the cold.

I am lifted, secured,
voices speak across me
the ignition, the engine
faster, faster, faster
as siren blares loud
again, again, again
is this a dream?

The ride jars my body
I feel stabs of pain
siren interrupts silence
straps keep me immobile
calm voices, strong hands.

Slowing  down now, siren still
ambulance jerks to a stop
click of door opening,
click of stretcher released
I am lifted, carried out
mind knows I've arrived at ER.


This is written for dVerse MTB, where Brian is prompting us to write a poem using any senses except sight.     (This is based on fact.  Open scapular fracture, broken tailbone, 5 broken ribs, shattered finger.) About 8 years ago.  I spent 3 days in Orthopedic intensive care, 4 additional days in Orthopedic, and had a few months of OT & PT.

Banquet

Banquet

Life is a banquet
each course to relish today
never mind tomorrow.

Appetizer first
    fig and olive tapenade
    mouth watering stuffed mushrooms
    lemon ginger shrimp
    with the finest champagne
    to toast life, nothing spared,
    enjoyment the key
    indulge in joy while there is time
    life is too short not to smile.

Main course follows
     salmon and watercress quiche
     chicken cordon bleu
     filet mignon with glaze
     with finest chardonnay
     taste the banquet before your eyes
     you know not what will follow
     chew each morsel, savor the juice
     along with the meat, then swallow,
     as you digest the time of your life.

Dessert course follows
      creme brulee if you wish
      tiramisu if you please
      raspberry white chocolate mousse
      top it off with spiced Vienna coffee
      mixed with conversation
      evening draws to a close
      the table is cleared
      lights are turned down
      end of the day.
   
Life is a banquet
each course to relish today
in case there is no tomorrow.


This poem is written for Poetry Jam where the prompt is to write a poem about 'savoring the food.'

Two Micro Poems

             An old soul

                   bears his history

              accepts his present

                   wonders his future.

                He wondered

                    if it was preferable

                to be invisible

                    or loathed.

These are written for dVerse Poetics where we are writing micro poetry with macro photography. Though my photographs would not be 'officially macro' I used poetic license as they are close-up views.

Manifesto

Manifesto

I write

to have something to do

on days Mars is not aligned with Venus

and puddles in front of my garage

are too big to ford

and my boat is stored 

on the other side of the mountain

too high to climb

so I am trapped in my mind

nowhere to go 

so I write.

This was written for dVerse Meeting the Bar where we had to write a Manifesto, and it was also submitted to G-Man's 55.

A Tribute to Miss B

Walden Pond

A Tribute to Miss B

Miss B was no one's favorite teacher
with voice louder than a tent preacher.

Old and crotchety, esteem she could shred
she was every student's dread.

She could be mean and raise her voice
she was no student's first choice.

I ended up in her junior English
a shy kid now filled with anguish.

I found my seat in the corner back row
my confidence did not overflow.

She had us memorize lines of verse
Dickinson and Shakespeare first.

Sandburg and Whitman to follow
Don Marquis was easier to swallow.

She brought literature to life
as silence could be cut with a knife.

No student could relax in her seat
her eagle eye allowed no retreat.

But underneath her strict demeanor I saw
the love of literature that inspired awe.

And though sometimes she nodded asleep
her love of language and literature I keep.

When she retired I penned her a letter
to let her know I would not forget her.

She wrote me after returning from Walden Pond
her love of literature continued on.

Though Miss B was no one's favorite
she taught me to read for the love of it.

Rest in peace you earned, Miss B
your influence in my life was key.

Written for Poets United Mid-Week Motif where we are writing poems that honor women / women's achievements.  I give Miss B credit for being the first teacher who taught me to appreciate poetry & was also instrumental in introducing me to other literature.  Most students never grew to like her.  I did.

Speculation

Speculation

How would it be if
one could bottle happiness
when one found it
and store it for
a dark future day?

The bottle would be labelled
'Happiness Reserve.'

This poem is for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is 'bottles.'

Words Flow

Words Flow

Words flow
streams of tears
work through despair
deep as dark caverns.

Writing flows
rippling waterfall
cascades of euphoria
greater than heart can handle.

Words flow
sword pierces skin
blood drips with anger
wounds visible and deep.

Writing flows
bubble bursts with love
hard to contain passion
words wish to fly.

Words flow
filled with thanksgiving
white doves rise
from printed page.

Writing flows
childlike exuberance
special moment relived
joy in savored moment.

This poem is written for dVerse Poetics where Anthony is prompting us to write a poem that is influenced by certain times in our life that made us the poet that we are.  Each stanza mentions a time when I am drawn to write.      I am also submitting it to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Life As a Journey

Life as a Journey

Life is a train journey
with many stations along the way

some people board the train
and stay on for the duration of the journey
give and take as they enjoy the route
and they are one's true friends

some people stay on for a while
share a stop or two and then disembark
when another opportunity comes along
feeling no need to say good-bye

some people linger for a time
take what they can from all on board
smile and shake hands as they wait
for a time to push someone overboard

some people avoid the train completely
prefer to ride the bus though it is slow
they are left behind as the whistle blows
and they live with their regrets

some people board the train
fall in love with all they view
become everyone's friend
and enjoy a fulfilling life

Life is a train journey
with many stations along the way.

This poem is shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry & is also shared as a #2 for Poetry Jam (where the prompt is Trains).

See Me

See Me

I go to school every day
greet classmates before school
the circle of boys closes
I am left standing outside.

I go to the lunchroom
carry my tray to a  table
when I sit down all move
I am left sitting alone.

In school we form study groups
I walk from person to person
smile and invite someone to join
everyone looks the other way.

At recess boys play football
I walk up to join the game
I stand on the field alone
no one throws me the ball.

Sometimes a boy touches me
then tries to pass my germs
to others who laugh and run
I run and try to laugh too.

I don't think people like me
I try hard to be a good friend
I feel sad at the end of the day
No one sees me for who I am.

This poem was written for dVerse Poetics, where I am 'bar tender' today.  The prompt is invisible  / invisibility.