Poem #8
childhood was like a dream
carefree, full of possibilities
treasure trove of wonder and curiosity
adulthood was a harsh wake-up call
to reality yet surreal
truth and lies woven together
so I heard though experienced neither.
Hour 7
Oh I am wandering
Yogini
Drank a cup of
this intoxicated
Love
What the heck
Happened to
My heart?
I drank this cup
And now I live
Fully and
Whole heartily
In one moment
I lived centuries
Why did I
Contacted this
Illness?
A wave of ecstasy
swept over me
And I drank
The whole
Universe !
My heart is
Overwhelmed
And I renounced
My mind
Defilments
Now nothing
Affects me
Nothing
Strikes
My heart
I don’t
Give voice
To my pain
Oh I am wandering
Yogini
Drank a cup of
this intoxicated
Love
What the heck
Happened to
My heart?
I drank this cup
And now I live
Fully and
Whole heartily
In one moment
I lived centuries
Iowa Evening: Hour 7
An Iowa dusk finds me
falling, helpless, into an endless sky.
On a road far before me
a farm truck spins a cloud of dust
that blossoms gold in the evening light
as the vehicle disappears.
Farm houses lay silent, close and flat
to a faraway horizon
while a setting sun
flames its way into the corn.
I feel the small scale of my heart
blossom and bloom in this endless place.
And everything I breathe
is earth and light and sky.
Travel thru the Mirror Poem 8
Travel thru the mirror
Where my face used to be
No wrinkles
Where my neck was smooth and silky
Travel to before the gray tinge
And the small hump
forcing me to lean forward
Travel thru the mirror
Where innocence lived
Where Love was simple
and the Future alive
Travel back here and see the reality
A woman aged and tired
Saged and wired
Regrets, broken hearts
Responsibilities
Travel thru the mirror
One day an aged crone
Will look back at me
See innocence and love
And wonder why
I believed in regrets
Why I worried over broken hearts
and responsibilities
The mirror reflects
What our eyes see
a moment’s glimpse
Into the self we imagine
ourselves to be.
SHE
A life of love she lacked
riddled with turmoil, pain
and unhappiness
A decision she made to heal
learned empathy, compassion
and self love
Now she is rooted in love
Hour 8, Prompt 10 – Sevenling: Dad
He asked for three things:
A bottle of Coke, a package of cheese and peanut butter crackers
and a ham sandwich
He hated dialysis
and diabetes
and kidney failure
He never wanted these things… all at once
In memory of Al Eisnaugle (12/20/1946-6/22/2008, 11 years ago today)
James
He loves taquitos and dancing with me in the moonlight,
holding hands, playing with my hair,
tender kisses and blasting music while cooking,
rubbing my chest when I’m not feeling good and making things with his own two hands.
He hates the feeling of inadequacy and the taste of coconut,
the way his hair looks without gel,
when people voice their opinions without considering the other point of view,
people who merge on the freeway without using their turn signal.
… And he chose me.
Entry 8 Half-Marathon 22.00 EU time — For Rod and Eva
.
That certain sadness
of not having regrets –
I’d love that.
Memories of what never
happened, and of absence –
I’d love that.
The dance we didn’t get
to do, the fading music –
I’d love that.
The rain that came and
lingered when you died –
I’d love that.
The quiet of night,
with its stars so bright –
I’d love that.
.
Love
I’m willing to clean her vomit,
cook her breakfast,
and wash her sheets.
I listen to her pains,
celebrate her successes,
and smile when she needs it.
We’re 7 years in, with 70 to go.
The butterfly
Her wings felt papery in the wind,
Her eyes dotted by black,
She had never felt such a ravenous hunger,
Any minute she would pass out,
Her wings would stop,
And slowly she would fall to the ground,
The harsh winds threw themselves against her,
And she struggled to stay aflight,
As she navigated the dark forest,
But then, when it looked as if all hope was lost,
She had come to a clearing,
A place where the trees came to an end, and the darkness evaporates
In front of her, in the middle of the clearing,
Was a house, surrounded by a white picket fence,
And she smelt something sweet coming from behind that picket fence,
Her stomach gasped at the smell,
And she was drawn to it,
She flew over the fence, and into the garden, in a daze,
Then, she spotted a bench,
And on it, slices of beautiful, orange fruit,
She could almost taste it’s sweet flesh, and she had to have some,
She spotted a chunky slice near the edge of the bench,
There were others there too,
But she couldn’t care less,
She dive down to the slice,
She placed her lips on it,
And, savoury every drop, she drank,
The juice filled her up,
And quinched that hunger,
After a while she stopped,
For the first time in a long time, she was full