24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
As we swing
time does its thing
the world goes by
and music rings.
A silly little ding
as we swing
a bell goes ‘round
and cracks the ground.
Hole opens wide
there’s souls inside
as we swing
a demon sings.
We cringe and bray
our ride’s strings fray
this rope stings
as we swing.
The end is near
both hanging here
no escape we fear
last fingers hang
as we swing.
– Sandra Johnson, 9/2/2023
Another bullshit pop song
nothing it says is true
listening
searching for a clue
as I get old, my parents get old
and my dog, my friends, everyone I knew
and the sun gets hotter, then bigger,
then cold.
I’m not sure what I saw
but if someone has only ever lied to you
then “I love you” is a lie too.
I wonder if people with Dementia
ever really feel sad?
They seem to be in a world all their own
while we sit and watch them fade
from who and what they use to be.
Is it sad because we’re sad?
feeling helpless in our dilemma.
Do people with Dementia really know
the pain you feel
because you can’t reach them and bring them back
to the life you once knew?
The life they helped to create.
A life that is all but lost;
somehow erased never to be experienced again.
Where did it all go?
Their whole life is consumed by the here and now
No thought for the past,
no thought for the future.
and their whole life suddenly becomes your life.
you are now the care-taker
when you once were the child.
Is it cruel
to feel resentment, anger , and shame
when they can’t relate to what use to be
and all you have are memories of what was?
There’s nothing kind about Dementia
for those who have to sit and watch.
The pain is real,
but not for those who suffer with Dementia.
Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife
Art or shame?
What was the birth of a movement
But the idle daydream of an artist?
Once a mere idea, transformed by 34 rules
To contain within a mix of horror and excitement.
Was the creator depraved or genius?
Creative or cursed?
Who’s to say but the octopuses
As the fisherman’s wife seems preoccupied.
Seasons
You can’t keep everything that’s beautiful:
Fall’s first red leaf popping brightly beneath
the green, a hidden gem waiting for death
to reveal a new type of beautiful life.
The crawdads splash, pitters on the water.
You can’t keep everything that’s beautiful,
the ripples seem to say. A child’s net
courses through the creek to catch little lives.
Crystal lights reflect on fallen snow. White
turns gray, trodden with heavy boots, reminding:
you can’t keep everything that’s beautiful,
only wait until the next storm comes.
A baby’s first cry, etched on waiting ears
pierces the untouched places of hearts.
But time always swoops away moments held dear.
You can’t keep everything that’s beautiful.
The breeze caressing my face
As I begin my journey through the sand
The desert calling me to sit down
The beauty of the moonless night
Looking up and observing the sky
That is what I am best at “observing” it seems
Contemplating how the stars shine
Searching for the brightest one
I wish you were here with me
Our hearts would have conversed
Beneath this refined stardust
That enchanting gaze would have lit up my eyes
To restore faith in myself
That warm embrace which I would long for
Would have made me bloom fully
You are solely the star I am looking for
I am eternally stargazing.
We’ve come to the place
where two roads diverge, and I,
I’ll take my own path.
scarf threadbare
knotted and twisted
wafts of Chanel
from the black bin
his last meal decomposing
the rat dines wearing pearls
Butterfly Glasses
All that might be
Hearing winds swaying leaves
With care, I emerge
Full of wonder
Feeling warm golden sun
All that might be
Full of hope
Expanding outward, I stretch
Fragile wings slowly unfurl
Full of joy
All that might be
Inhaling peat scented earth
Full of love
Tasting sweet rain drops
Patiently waiting for flight
All that might be
(Prompt: The viator is a poetic form invented by Robin Skelton. The first line is used again as refrain in the second line of the second stanza, and the third line of the third stanza, and so on and so forth depending on how many stanzas you include. The last line of the final stanza must be the refrain, so you start and end on it.)
I promise myself, today
I will not cry
My tear soaked pillow can hold no more
My scratchy throat can sob no more
My blood shot eyes can burn no more
I take a deep breath
I promise myself, today
I will not call you
Just to hear your voice
Just to apologize for sins that are not mine
I delete your number
I take a deep breath
I promise myself, today
I will not read your old messages
The ones where you say you love me
I delete the messages
Every last one of them
I take a deep breath
I promise myself, today
I will not put on your old shirt
I pack your shirt away
Along with every tangible memory of you
I put you away
I take a deep breath and
I promise myself today