Prisoners of will: (Prompt Hour four)
prisoners of will
caged by vows
of uneasy comfort.
two peas in a pods;
a journey to multiply
and to loosely tame passion.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
prisoners of will
caged by vows
of uneasy comfort.
two peas in a pods;
a journey to multiply
and to loosely tame passion.
Coins fall through a poorly sewn pocket,
and clatter dully on the cobblestone.
An opulent, imposing carriage
rolls thoughtlessly over the copper.
The Lord and Lady inside peer out,
eyes locking with the friendly layman’s
soot streaked smile, though they prefer
distance over satisfied curiosity.
As the Lord turns, the Lady winks,
and shining, jingling drops
trickle from the open carriage window.
The poor-man nods a kind goodbye,
scoops the gold into his leathery,
well-worked hand, and drops it
into the pocket without a hole.
Paper.
White, possibly.
Stamped with a seal.
Signed by two parties,
and some witnesses.
An official legal document.
Granting special privileges.
Privileges desired by many.
Given only to some.
What this paper isn’t,
love, trust, partnership,
equality, or binding.
This paper does not hold accountability.
It doesn’t prevent pain,
emotional or physical.
Just a false sense of security.
It doesn’t make desire.
Desire to be with someone.
Someone special.
To love someone,
despite any flaws.
It doesn’t require apologies.
For wrongs done,
intentionally or not.
It doesn’t generate smiles,
or laughter at a shared joke.
It doesn’t offer companionship.
It won’t have your back.
Fight with you when you need it.
Share in the ups and downs,
that are life.
Paper is just paper.
Something easily broken.
Ripped to pieces.
True love and companionship.
Not as easy to break.
IF
If our lives were to last forever
I might not …
Say goodnight as tenderly
Act carelessly
Cuddle you so much
If we were never ever going to be apart
I might not …
Tell you so often that I love you
Cherish every moment
Want to always be by your side
If life was not so very fragile
We would miss out on so much
Celebrate (inspired by the image)
When I die
No funeral
I don’t want people congregated
In chapels of ice
Cold and silently respectful
When I’m gone
I want you all to raise the roof
Sing to the music loudly and out of tune
Get drunk
And dance on the tables
I could not go back home because of politics,
but I wanted a union with a woman from home.
So, I asked my family for advice, and they
recommended an arranged union. They chose.
and I accepted. We did not have a chance to
meet. We just talked by phone and decided
to move forward.
You hoped for love to arrive, once something
arranged by others who love you.
In my case, the rose did not bloom, we were so
different in our way, in our manners.
Had children, and raised them together, the
result almost perfect.
years later the loneliness arrived in a big house
with five rooms
an attempted suicide to escape from inside a
circleof life, no success. The rest is history.
Hypermnesia
taken before my birth,
still they lie beside me as I try to sleep
longing for the sound of a voice never heard
stunted by their absence, no keepsakes, no memorabilia
will walking the streets or forest where they once had life
generate perceptions, smells, or sounds of who they were?
paying homage may soothe the fractured souls
while nothing recaptures what was lost.
Still I have hopes, to claim – re-claim? as things unfold
and learn in the exploration.
Bound to you in living unison,
In name, in heart, in body, in mind.
Companions in a daunting landscape
Where uncertainty threatens
at each weakening seam.
Returning to the bond that defined us,
that strange magnetism aroused
by the converging of our rivers.
We are embraced in the ephemeral freefall
like wild birds defying death with flight.
Bursting with a song that secures
the holy grounds of our bed.
This is the dream that is beyond words.
And is also this very moment,
as it cuts into our skin.
Where horizons touch graveyards,
and meadows end at fencelines.
Our truth is but a small orchestra
lost in the surrounding seismic noise.
We met at 15, I’m now 68.
Lightening hit when I saw him, I saw my fate.
To grow old together is our goal.
Our love connected at the soul.
My best friend, my soft place to land.
50 years together, hand in hand.
I’m blessed, more than I can say.
Forever together, I like it that way.
Time is a thief.
I plan to buy back time at my ending.
I can smell the lack of time left.
In the far lands,
I hear the ticking
of life’s time clock.

Yet, I can not taste
that inevitable
drip of time melting away.

Let me hold you time
Allow me to caress your strands
and wrap them ‘round me tightly.

I am blind,
I can not hear
the striking of the clock bells.

Into a whirlwind
I ride to find my son, Cody
In Cody, Wyoming in time.
A pick up from the airport
A shoulder at the hospital
Warmth beneath the blanket
Leaning against skin
A dinner date
A united front
Sharing a snack
Facing the news
Making a plan
Giving comfort
Diffusing pain
Fortifying against attack
A delicate dance
The face of home