24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Stopped
My husband had
A heart attack.
To save his life
They stopped his life.
They split his chest.
They stopped his breath.
They stopped his blood.
They stopped his heart.
They took his life
And gave him life.
I lived.
He stopped.
We ;ive again.
©Ardelle Hollis Ray
Heatbeat. Heartbeat.
My brother – Sixteen years older than I
At 56 years, 6 months old:
Heartbeat. Heartbeat. End.
My sister – Thirteen years older than I
At 56 year, 6 months old:
Congestive heart failure
Mitro valve replacement
Transplant list
Heart and kidney transplant.
Heartbeat. Heartbeat.
My sister – Five years older than I
At 56 years, 6 months old:
Heartbeat. Heartbeat. End.
I am
At 55 years, 11 months old:
Writing this poem.
Heartbeat. Heartbeat.
Without her
He humors them
And takes the pill
To keep them quiet
To make them still
When they leave
He’ll have a nip
He keeps it hidden
So they won’t quip
It’s not so bad
To live this way
They love and fuss
Just on Sunday
When she was there
He had his pal
There sits the chair
Of his old gal
He never thought
That she’d go first
He shakes it off
This thought, the worst
Alone at home
He pops a beer
The TV’s on
His cat is near
The game begins
He shuts his eyes
And sees her face
In time he cries
#PoemNo15
Your heart- j.r.m© 2016
In the palm of my hand
I can crush your beating life force.
In the palm of my hand
I control your blood flow.
In the palm of my hand
I hold your very life.
My little, selfless heart pumping away
pumping away though nights and days
through my arms and legs and then back again
while I;ve walked and jumped and while I’ve lain
My little heart, pumping away
I feel an affinity toward wildflowers
Sneaking out from underneath chain link and barbed wire fences
Kindred spirits
They always make me smile
I stop to say hello to wild poppies
We chat about the sunny weather
and the Delta breeze
We welcome the buzzing bees that come to visit
And we celebrate California Poppy Day, every year on April 6th
– Photo credit – Bia Riaz
Rabbit proof fence too long
For the moment.
It swirls and bends
Until further notice
And cooler days.
Guerlain powder
On baby squash leaves
Tastes awful to tiny mouths
Chewing fast on the greens.
Put baby powder on the
Costco list, plus another load of
Garden soil. Dirt. Good dirt.
Dirt on my long skirt.
Half inch galvanized
Welded wire mesh,
Bans marauding mice
Hungry for my tomatoes.
Ah, the grasshoppers! Again!
Chomping greedily on my kohlrabi
Just as they start to plump!
Turnips ready to pick
With leaves turned yellow.
They’re done and ready to pickle
With cardamom, maple, and cinnamon.
Sweet potatoes going gangbusters!
I wonder how many there may be
As I peek down below the plethora of leaves to see
What has plumped and pushed up.
Cucumbers climbing
An old wire cage.
Poison mushrooms sprout
Between flattened cardboard mulch.
Too much nitrogen
Nothing grows.
Tomatoes need phosphorous.
Must fertilize.
When will this white trash mess
Look like… a garden?
When this old woman
Becomes young again.
I lay on the table
Wires pressed into my body
I closed my eyes
As the technician
Uses his wand
Pressing into my skin
I can hear my heart
On his monitor
A slushy steady thump
He moves his wand around
Talking and feeling
He would tell me when to breathe
And when not to breathe
My heart now beat inside my chest
and outside too
As if I had two hearts
One within and one floating through the room
The technician would stop and hold to take a picture
One particular spot catching his eye
I could tell by his lack of communicating
He was studying and wondering
My heart had a weakness
But was very strong
He told me again and again
How strong it was
As it beat inside me and outside me too
I knew it really was strong
It had weathered love and divorce
Loss and hope
Later the Doctor would explain
The small aneurism
That would later disappear
But the sound of my heart
Beating
Two places at once
It would be all right to give it away
It could beat inside me
And inside someone else too
I could keep it safe while giving it away
It was a strong heart
I had heard it for myself
And the technician had told me so
I’ve lost count
Of rhyme and verse and beers
And words that rhyme with beer
But I’ll fix it all, even if my methods are queer
The next will be counted fair
And I’ll be more aware
