02 – Before the Dawn
Hit the road
Just keep driving
Sun still sleeping
Bats at play
Destination undecided
And all that is known
Is the need to get away
Coffee and Change
Mitch Brown
Hr 2
Coffee and change
Coffee is a simple drink, it’s bitter and hot and dark
It helps in waking up my brain, makes the day less stark
It’s brewed from beans
And while this seems
To be a simple function
The changes there make me aware
That change is a compunction
A triple non fat
With honey in that
And mocha and spices and foam
And make sure the cup
Is completely full up
And stays hot until I get it home
What’s happened to the brew
My forefathers knew
That came from the fire unaided
When I order a drink
Without foam , without toffee
I’m looked at as something quite strange
I still order straight coffee
And sneer at the toffee
While humming Home, home on the range
Coffee Changes Everything
(for hour 2—coffee & change prompt)
Coffee Changes Everything
After sixteen years of sobriety,
A waitress handed me decaf from the wrong pot
You can’t taste the difference in a greasy, road-side waffle joint
Forty miles later, possibilities and plans percolated in my brain
My foot pressed too close to the floor
Faced with the question, “Ma’am, do you know how fast you were going?”
I had to say “no,” to be honest
I stood jittery, stepped out of the car,
With one officer checking my license and registration
The other checking my eye movement
“That’s not nerves, sir, I need another hit.”
Morning Routine
Mornings are a lull,
going through the motions
of a bright new day.
Sensitive eyes burn,
escaping beneath
the warm cotton sheets
for an extra moment
of solace.
Waiting until
the last moment
to rise up,
to be brave.
(Poem 2 of 2021 Half-Marathon)
The joy of unseen things
Knows only the wise
And my heart swings
How I wait for the surprise!
With you on my side
I forget all my cries!
Hour 2: Shunya
The Void
Nothingness
It exists
within me
and you, as well.
It makes up the space
we exist in
And the one
we can only dream of.
It connects
me to you
you to me.
Even with eons in between
my words reach
You
yours, Me
through Shunya
where everything exists
yet nothing remains.
Changes
in my heart
yours as well
the Only thing remaining
Unchanged
The Void
Nothingness.
(Note: A theme I am just beginning to contemplate.. ‘Shunya’ is a Hindi word, which means Zero. In the context of Indian Philosophical Thought, it also means the void, Space, vacuum and the Beginning among other things. It’s a deep topic and one with a lot of room for creativity and thought, which I would like to learn and write about more… Someday!)
The Joy of Unseen Things
I’m happiest in the unknown, though I would argue
that I need to know everything. In the unknown there
are delicious surprises—like the faces looking back at
me last night as I attempted to sleep. I heard that up
to six months prior to one’s death, visions may come
of long lost loved ones. So, you can imagine what
I was thinking last night when those faces floated
past. Is this the end? And my next thought…what about
all my stuff? No one should have to clean out drawers
and cupboards…my eclectic collection of junk so vast.
My mother-in-law spent the last ten years of her life
cleaning out her stuff. She said to me each phone call,
“Well, Nancy, I’m going through my things every day
so you won’t have too after I die. .I just got rid of my baby
bracelet. Who would want it?” I said, “I would.” Too late
now. It’s in the window of some pawn shop or an antique
store on Main Street. We, or at least my family, valued
old things: pewter, silver, crockery, jewels, and furs.
I have a crystal bowl from my aunt, a cheese crock
from the auction, a tiny wishbone pendant from my
great-grandmother, a pocket watch from my biological
father. These things are precious…then there’s the paper
shredder from the neighbor’s move, a mint green bandana,
and a sweater and tennis shoes stuffed in a sack in the
trunk of my care for when I head to the Goodwill…or what
my daughter used to call—Good William. Not precious
and not my point here. My point—I want to be comfortable
with the unknown. One never knows when I’ll meet those
faces..
Coffee & Change (Hour 2)
The stronger the better, until my hands shake and palpitations reverberate in my ears. Until I'm so manic I become willing to subject myself to work. It was never about needing energy. I drank you for motivation to continue and honestly, I couldn't brew enough of you. Now you have betrayed me. Our relationship is no longer as indulgent. Somewhere along the way the accelerated thinking took a dark turn, I experienced the abyss too real, came to know those palpitations as fleeting seconds on a clock. The increments I ingest you with are more measured, watered down, controlled. Too much of you is crippling, mind petrified by the worries of existence, anxiety amped up on a burning fuel of self-collapse.
THE JOY OF AN UNSEEN TOMORROW – Hour Two (2021)
THE JOY OF AN UNSEEN TOMORROW
even when all our chairs are filled, we are alone
each pair of eyes contains the flickering
of a billion dead and dying stars, dust, light
remaining constrained to this section of space
so sinking into sadness we tighten our grips
clutching our changing bodies like shifting sands
so whispering to the thought of infinity
each one of us an island of unseen things
looking up at a gold-splashed sky
straining to see a land-bridge away from our tide
Prompt 2 — The Joy of Unseen Things by Nancy Ann Smith
U rging me to smile; unleashing glee from deep within
N oticing the otherwise unexplainable sense of “all is well”
S cent of Aunt Leona’s cologne, reminding me of feeling loved
E ven in the midst of 1977 – a very hard year on economic, emotional, and loss levels
E asy peace and calm arising; I can take us through these temporary stresses.
N ancy is supported by love and grace!