I Think Hard

I Think Hard

If I think hard I can remember
if I think hard I can remember
when life stretched endlessly ahead
when life stretched endlessly ahead
I stretched ahead endlessly I think
if hard can  life remember when?

I  breathed in long summer days
I breathed in long summer days
exhaled dreams of future unknown
exhaled dreams of future unknown
I exhaled future dreams of summer
breathed in unknown long days.

The shadows of eternity loomed long
the shadows of eternity loomed long
as the moon winked slyly in the sky
as the moon winked slyly in the sky
the moon of eternity winked in shadows
as the sky slyly loomed long.

I winked slyly when future loomed
the moon stretched endlessly in shadows
the sky exhaled long hard days
eternity of summer breathed in dreams
I remember unknown as long
if I can think ahead of life breathed.

A paradelle for dVerse.  Brian is hosting the bar today!

An Ordinary Day

Basil (rear), Tulip (front left), Violet (front right)

An Ordinary Day

There is comfort in an ordinary day
morning coffee, reading a good book
walking with dogs, writing poetry
planning and buying for evening meal.

There is comfort in an ordinary day
going to the local farm markets
watching the television news
spending time with people one loves.

There is comfort in the ordinary day
the things that do not change
routines that repeat themselves
over and over and over again.

There is comfort in an ordinary day
would we want it any other way?

This is written for Poetry Jam
where the prompt is 'the ordinary.'

Everyday Something

Everyday Something

Everyday something -- one day
airplane goes down, shot out of the sky,
never to be seen again.

    Who would shoot innocents like this,
    as if it is some kind of sport?

Everyday something -- one day
three hundred girls kidnapped away
never to be heard again.

   How can so many children just
   disappear before our eyes.

Everyday something -- one day
more civilians killed in Gaza
trapped nowhere to run.

    How can we understand
    humankind's inhumanity?

I sit on my porch at night
watch fireflies light the sky
and wonder why.

Written for dVerse Open Link.  Also linked with Sunday's Poetry Pantry, which is an Open Link for any who are interested.

The Kite

The Kite


She was a kite flying in the wind
her dreams sand in the hour glass
one grain at a time salt of her tears
flowed, a river of insignificance,
as she rose higher and higher,
a phantom winged horse breathless.

She hoped death would be kind
as she soared, first a hawk
then an eagle, her wings strong,
her beak iron, her eyes future-fixed
on the clouds where she'd disappear,
a vagabond kite soaring in the wind.

This is written for dVerse where Claudia is having us write with metaphors.

Trash or Treasure

Trash or Treasure

Treasure for one

junk for another.

Junk for one

treasure for another.

What do I do

with old china?

What do I do

with old silverware?

With jewelry

I will never wear?

Childhood dollhouse

or old marbles?

Clothing with

sentimental value?

Keep or sell or throw

how to decide?

This is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is 'trash or 'treasure.'

Communication

Communication

Communication happens in an instant;
text messages, email, no time passes.

We are an impatient society, immediate,
can't tolerate a wait. An hour is too long.

Get back to me. Now. Not later. I stare
at the screen, wait for your timely response.

I drum fingers on the table, don't understand
why I haven't heard. Fifteen minutes is too long.


This is written for dVerse Poets  Pub Poetics.  The theme is "time / clocks."

The Wreckage

The Wreckage

When a plane goes down we search for reasons
as we thank the stars we were not onboard
nor was our spouse or son or even distant cousin

     and as we wonder what the black box will reveal
     we watch photos of the dead we did not know
     roll across the TV screen smiling and animated

captured in a time warp bodies were still whole
yesterday they were able to laugh and plan future
death a phantom to be met some distant tomorrow

      look at her celebrating her 16th birthday
      and him after he caught the biggest fish
      and her waving as she boarded the plane

the dead did not plan this day their lives would end
this day their bodies would fall like stones out from the sky
without parachutes and screaming all the way down

     the wreckage of lives falling beside them
     until they came to rest in a field of sunflowers
     mangled and broken in a country they never chose

dead just plain dead in a field for what motive
no purpose but dead but cannot go back in time
when a plane goes down we search for reasons.

This is submitted to Sunday's Poets United Poetry Pantry.  Hope to see you there.

dVerse Party in Boboli Gardens

Neptune Fountain, Boboli Gardens, Florence

dVerse Party in Boboli Gardens

And oh isn't this special
isn't this fulfillment of a dream

here we are in Boboli Gardens
dancing the time away

everyone's dance card full
and smiles the order of the day

with so many fascinating guests
and poetry the language of the day

a banquet of international words
a buffet of international foods

who could ask for more?

This is written for dVerse, where we are partying in Boboli Gardens in Florence.
Rather than comment on the words above, I would like each of the guests 
who visits here to share a food item or treat typical of YOUR state / area / region / country that 
you will put on the buffet table at the party.

The Unexpected

The Unexpected

The unexpected lies around each corner
life unpredictable even when we think we know
nothing is certain in this uncertain world.

Plans made today fall apart tomorrow
as new plans rise from ashes of dashed dreams
take us where we didn't know we wished to go.

That's the way of life with its twists and turns
that we cannot fight thus need to embrace
the unexpected takes only yes for an answer.

Embrace the journey with open arms
trust it will lead to the destination
you were predetermined to find

until the unexpected intervenes again.


This is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is "Unexpected."

Ode to Unknown Poets

Ode to Unknown Poets

This is an ode to unknown poets
the many who write just to write
because they hear the call of words
and answer it in their own way
but seek neither fame nor fortune
to be read is its own reward.

This is an ode to unknown poets
those who see life in images
continually  seek the right words
are not satisfied until they've
crafted their poem as masterpiece
by their own standards alone
are satisfied with their creation.

This is an ode to unknown poets
the under-appreciated balladeers
speakers of their own truths
bearers of their own souls
vulnerable to a critical world
they carry on nonetheless
unlikely uncelebrated heroes.

This is written for dVerse, where we were challenged to write an ode to a poet or poets today.

Days of Possibility

Days of Possibility

There are days possibilities loom darkly
what could be the best possible thing
hangs in the balance of what could be.

It is all a matter of chance this life
who you connect with on the path
answers you give as you pass GO.

Meanwhile so much seems random
as you prepare for the best and worst
don't forget about why the journey.

You hold tight to hope as you dream
know the destination of your heart
you walk forward step by step.

Though you choke on your heartburn
your stomach churns and you wretch
keep an eye on where you are led.

There are days possibilities loom darkly
what could be the best possible thing
hangs in the balance of what could be.

Walk on.

This is shared with Sunday's  Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Keys

Keys

I own keys that open nothing
but do not throw them away
in case I come upon a lock
that needs an  errant key.

Keys take up little space
I polish them until they sheen
study them or make up stories
they become the stuff of dreams.

I imagine one of them will
open a passage to a secret world
and another a pirate's treasure chest
with rich abundance to behold.

I imagine one of them is
a key to someone's heart
and often hold it close to me
though we are apart.

I own keys that open nothing
but do not throw them away
in case I come upon a lock
that needs an errant key.

This is written for Susan's prompt at Poets United Midweek Motif:   The Key.

Impossible Life

A poorhouse in Stockholm in the 1880's

Impossible Life

She lived in an impossible house
with her very impossible spouse
who was an uncompromising louse.

Thus she became an incorrigible souse
rather than end up in the madhouse
or even worse ------ the jailhouse.

Divorce would have landed her
                 in the poorhouse!

This is written for the Poetry Jam prompt:  An Impossible Place.

Fireworks

Fireworks

And when the fireworks end
and the festivities are over
where do the people go
who look to the stars?

They look for signs and wonders
and miraculous cures
follow some new media prophet
slick talk and fancy suit
with dollar bill linings
who takes the pulpit and shouts
give give give to me me me
so you can receive  in return.

They trust the tv prophet will heal them
body soul  heart and mind
if they really believe his words
follow me give to me more more
not to any lord but him
but they don't see the dollar signs
etched in his raised greasy palms
or bodyguard arms folded out of view.

They trust the prophet has answers
as he spreads his own word as truth
and judges evil by crooked ruler
so they take up their own crosses
and follow follow follow
the man with his pleas for money
whose mission is himself
hoping to be saved from their fears.

And when the fireworks end
and the festivities are over
where do the people go
who look to the stars?

This is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Half Year Check-In

Half Year Check-In

First half of the year
pretty much on target
always getting better.

It is all in perspective
look at the bright side
ordinary is fine for me.

Every day a gift
every moment is special
I cross off the days.

No resolutions made
but all goals achieved
a matter of semantics.

First half of the year
pretty much on target
always getting better.

This is written for Susan's Midweek Motif, where one of her prompts was 'half year,' as we are now in the exact middle of 2014.

Thirst

When He was dying 

He said "I thirst"

a sign of his Humanity

something each of us

can identify with

the simple need

we take for granted

the realization that

God in Man

 all comes down

to something as simple

but yet as complex as

the need to satisfy

one's thirst.

For Poetry Jam, where the prompt is 'thirst.'