Everything I Never Told You

Everything I Never Told You

Sometimes I wonder to myself
what it is I haven't told you

you know the important things
like I like everything very hot
and that I wake very early
so I can watch the moon's travel

and that I wish I could read more
like I used to but somehow I can't
and what kind of toothpaste I like
along with my favorite salsa.

Sometimes I wonder to myself
what it is I haven't told you

and I wonder if it matters
if I am frightened by storms
that pizza is pure heaven
and I often hide my tears

that I'd rather listen than talk
but I can play either role
that I don't dream at all but
if I did I'd dream of you.

Sometimes I wonder to myself
what it is I haven't told you.

This is shared with dVerse Open Link.   It is also be shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.  Everything I Never Told You is a novel by Celeste Ng.  Gabriella and I prompted ourselves to write a poem based on this title. If you visit both of our poems at Open Link time, you will see what we both did with the title.  And, hey, if you want to join us in this little prompt, feel free.  Smiles.  And I will add your link below.

Susan has also accepted this little challenge.  Thanks, Susan.
Sherry Blue Sky has also accepted the challenge.  Thanks, Sherry.
Peggy has taken the challenge too.  Nice, Peggy.
Rallentanda has taken part.  Enjoyed.

I Wanted to be Alice

I Wanted to be Alice

I wanted to be Alice
to belong to a foreign-upper class
teatime, crumpets, queens, kings, footmen
slightly bolder than I might have been
to look at life as a possibility of adventures
terror, without succumbing to it
the world as an indecipherable,
essentially absurd but fascinating spectacle.


Well, this is what I came up with for the dadaist poetry prompt Victoria gave us at Meeting the Bar.  I took phrases written from an article written by Joyce Carol Oates; and in the end it even sort of made sense.  Perhaps it makes too much sense to be dadaist?

Dear Diary

Dear Diary

I don't know what to say today
as much has changed since I last wrote
and I hope you will forgive me
for deserting you for a time.

But still I find myself speechless
as I fear you will be discovered
and what will they think after I'm gone
if I write all who I am? Do I dare?

I struggle so much with being honest
and even sometimes with myself;
I think I will just return you again
to  the back of the dusty shelf.


This is written for Susan's prompt about diaries over at Poets United Midweek Motif!

Alone

Alone


I am alone
it is spring
I wait

I will not be
alone in summer
I have faith

much of life is
alone waiting
for what

I know will
change my life
I wait


This is written for the Poetry Jam prompt - Alone.

Insomnia

Insomnia

You who resist the call of sleep,
why? I want to know why
in the middle of the night
you thrash sleepless,

unable to close down,
and yearn for daybreak
which is hours away
to bring you the peace

you are unable to find
in the dreamless night.
You who resist the call of sleep,
why? I want to know what

unknown demons haunt
outside of conscious view
and why the switch sticks
when you try to turn it off

as the moon outside your window
follows you across the sky.
You who resist the call of sleep,
why? I want to know why.


Written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Lover Beware

Wilted Roses

              “Strange what love taught you about your

               faults.”   -- Maggie Stiefvater, Linger

Lover  Beware


Beware of the man who brings wilted flowers
         his attention will soon wither.

Beware of the man with skeleton in the closet
         his bones will soon rattle.

Beware of the man who drinks cheap wine
         his bottle will soothe his soul.

Beware of the man who doesn't tip
         his money will be his god.

Beware of the man who curses
         his words of love will be prattle.

Beware of the man who is always late
         his promises will be broken.

Beware of the man who is vain
         his mirror will never be soothed.

Beware of the man who holds a grudge
         his voice will be a sharp razor.

Beware of the man who can't laugh at himself
         his scapegoat will always be his fool.

Beware of the man who does not sing
        his presence will lack accord.

This is written for dVerse MTB where Tony prompts us to use repetition.

Light(ning) in the Dark

Light(ning) in the Dark

"Light is creation. Darkness is the space necessary to create."  Erica Jasmin Cartaya

Lightning strikes nigh
lights up dark sky
nature's outcry.

Thunder claps near
dogs quake in fear
danger they hear.

Rain pounds ground
windows resound
fear beats profound.

I cover my head
shudder in my bed
filled with dread.

Zeus throws his bolt
before thunder jolt
the gods revolt.

Fear stalks my night
terror take flight
before the daylight.

This poem is written for Poets United Midweek Motif, where Susan has prompted us to write about "Light and/or Dark." We are going through a rough patch of weather.  Awful thunderstorms last night, severe weather warnings much of the morning, and thunderstorms again forecast for the overnight.  

Bridge

Harbour Bridge - Sydney, Australia

Bridge


Between present and future
there is an unseen bridge
we walk it every moment
a purposeful pilgrimage.

We traverse many miles
must ford many streams
eyes focused on the course
guided by vivid dreams.

Between present and future
the chasm often may seem vast
but we forge on undeterred
destiny controls the mast.

This is written for Laurie's prompt at Poetry Jam:  Bridges.

Father's Day Reflections

My father on the day of his confirmation,
about age 13, holding confirmation certificate

Father's Day Reflections

I remember when he used to take me into the backyard
and would pitch baseballs so I could learn how to hit
and catch the balls gloveless as I had no baseball glove.

I remember when he tried to teach me how to use a compass
but it made absolutely no sense and the more he talked
the more confused I became and I regretted having it at all.

I remember when he used to tease me by coming up behind
dangled a string down to graze my head or shoulder
then pulled it away and then doing it again feeling clever.

I remember when he went horseback riding with me
against his better judgment and became embarrassed
with horse unmoving on main street with traffic all around.

I remember when  he would run behind my bicycle
when I learned to ride my first two-wheeler
and he would catch me when  the bike was about to fall.

I remember playing sheepshead with him which he hated
and one time my mother and sister and I rigged his cards
so that he'd have a perfect hand but he 'passed' anyway.

I remember when he came to the rescue when
one of my Easter baby chicks (which we could have then)
fell down the heat register and saved it from death by frying.

I remember when I wanted to drop out of college because
I was afraid of student teaching and he told me that if I did
I'd regret it forever so I stayed and know now he was right.

I remember when he  lay dying and I said to him then
words I had not been able to say for a long long time
and I have forever been glad I didn't let that moment pass.

This is written for Sunday's Poets United Poetry Pantry in honor of Father's Day.

Thirteen

Thirteen


13 people at the Last Supper
and one of them betrayed.

13 at a dinner party
first to rise in death may fade.

13 steps to the gallows
unless execution is stayed.

13 letters in your name
the devil will to invade.

13 dirty words quoth Mr. Krabs
from mighty Spongebob's brigade.

13 Apollo was an unlucky mission
eventually safe landing was made.

Is 13 unlucky or but a charade?

This is written for the  Susan prompt "13" at Poets United Mid-week Motif.
13 lines about the number 13.
Friday the 13th is this week.  Smiles.

Lost and Found

Rocks & shells I found on various beaches

I've lost things
car keys and sun glasses
credit cards and wallets
documents and photos
but though lost for a time
all appeared again
except for lost time.

I've found things
shells on an ocean beach
presents under a tree
the missing puzzle piece
friendship and love
but most important
I found God.

This is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt this week is "Lost and / or Found."

My Dad

My Dad

He had hands with black in the creases
though he scrubbed them with Lava soap
he washed dishes most nights smiled
said this would get his hands clean.

Most days he worked dawn to dusk
if he didn't there would be no money
sometimes though he was gone all day
money was still scarce  but I never lacked.

He smelled of automobile oil and grease
from the underbellies of cars he fixed
with wrenches held in his strong hands
the tools he had could fix anything.

Sometimes I'd ride bike around his shop
stare into the barrel of used auto oil
slick and shiny mirroring my reflection,
it smelled just like my dad.

He had a white pickup truck for hauling
and occasionally he let me sit behind
untethered between the back panels
I felt  the wind blow as he drove.

He was a man who said few words but
some important words he spoke still stick with me
as does the twinkle in his eye
I knew he would rather fix than talk.

This is written for dVerse Poetics, where Grace is having us write about ancestors. The photo is one of my dad and me.

Silence

Silence

I remember that  time

my actions did not convey my feelings

so she lashed out at me misunderstanding

I still don't know how 

and I was left mouth wide open 

trying to explain 

and with each word I spoke

I dug  my grave deeper

gave her more reason to despise

and there was nothing I could say

that could change anything

having committed the unforgivable

while thinking all was fine 

I finally realized that perhaps

this is what she wanted anyway

and now there is silence.

This is written for dVerse Meeting the Bar, where  I wrote to Brian's prompt....when words fail.  Sometimes there are no words that will make things right.  No matter what.  I am also linking it to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Meditation

Meditation

I see the moon and stars above
envision countless stars beyond
I think how I would like to be
an interplanetary vagabond.

I focus on the bright North Star
much more intense than old friend moon
then my eyes gaze at sister Venus
this beautiful evening in June.

I think of our small planet earth
wonder who else shares this gaze
and then imagine the moon looks back
as I raise my voice in her praise.

I contemplate the moon up there
and every moment that I so spend
I wonder if you too share my view
earth's ever loyal celestial friend.

This is written for Poetry Jam where the prompt is "the moon."

Seeds

Seeds

Seeds of my inception live within

I  may not recognize them

but tap roots are deep.

I am better today for youth

have learned countless things

additional branches on the trunk.

I cannot relive yesterday

wouldn't want to if I could

my gnarled trunk still strong.

And I will not discount my past

grateful its bold seeds took root

formed the heart of today's me.

This is written for Tuesday's  dVerse Poetics where Shanyn is having us writing 'seeds.'