Hour12
Let’s go to the fair
and enjoy all the goodies!
Let’s explore each other
and offer smiles and hugs!
2022 Poem Nineteen
Untitled
Life is a McDonald’s ice cream machine,
always broken, and I am high in the drive thru at 2am.
I cannot check a McBroken that does not exist.
There’s no FTC to investigate.
All of Life’s competitors make sure to mock me on their marquees
being sure to remind me of what I cannot have.
Hour 22
tender is a cat purr
in my left ear
a gentle alarm clock at 6:21 a.m.
i struggle to write with soft paws
tapping my face.
i sleepwalkwrite these words .waiting the next prompt
Two Halves of a Heart
Two Halves of a Heart
Orion shines bright
though clouds try to dim
the darkness of night.
Wait on God. We plead
for so long, our eyes
grown worn with this need.
We watch the sun peek
its rays towards our sky,
pray it back under its brink.
Dynamic roars cross
hills so high, wishing
this duo won’t be lost.
silent scream
without noise
Silence never breaks
the lights are shining bright
searching for an answer
Silence is not a gift
it’s a darkest tragedy
Poem 22
Charmer
I kissed
her mind and
an everflowing wisdom
coursed under
my skin
It reached
my soul and the
tenderness spread
within
Too magical
to be real
so rare
and mesmerizing
In a world of lies
and illusion
she’s an enchantress
of hypnotizing
Hour 22: Monarch Butterfly a Wing
Did the title tap memories of feelings so right
they moved your heart higher than a soaring kite?
Did you imagine yourself in a meadow so bright
the colors would bind you in endless delight
while wandering waterbirds dance and excite
You? Did you assume serenity would land your sight
on a monarch butterfly caught in mid-flight
while skimming and skipping over lakes so lightly,
ephemeral motion, in stillness made mightily
calm, profoundly full of meaning and insight?
You suppose wrong; the title’s not a typo.
Stepping out of the church’s front door —
in a fog of solemn sorrow and ire
after a troubling memorial service
for a troubled sister who had left me
hurt, angry, too soon, and unresolved —
I glimpsed a butterfly wing on the sidewalk
just before my next step would crush it
I froze in thought, “Oh, Butterfly!
Where have you gone?”
And remembered my much admired beloved sister.
I spoke to the missing piece,
“Are you still flying on one wing?”
And remembered my enigmatic, wounded sister.
My mind’s eye created instant poetry:
“Did some jealous god capture you
to rip your wing
from your frail body
then spirited you away
and left you forsaken
far from your wing
To seal the separation?”
And remembered my fiercely gifted sister.
(Oh, my sister!
No one ever – before or since –
so close to me
so far apart.)
All in a fleeting moment
I stooped to gather up the wing —
ignoring voices speaking comfort,
hugs seeking to console me
with joys in their memory of her.
Rejecting those useless cares,
while remembering them kindly.
I tucked their memories and my wing
between two pages of eulogy
and took them home with me
to wash myself in all the unshed tears
drowning me in despair.
They’re still here – the memories and the wing —
on the wooden box that holds her ashes.
On that otherwise empty bookshelf
The dust covers happy memories
And she (oh, butterfly!) looks so forlorn;
in my dreams she’s flying.
In her life I dreamed I could make her whole again;
she would not land long enough to let me.
When I saw a craft vendor tossing away
a wooden dragonfly with one wing missing,
I offered to buy it; we bargained for two:
one whole and the other I wanted.
I keep the dragonflies on the ashes box,
placing the butterfly wing
where the dragonfly’s is missing.
The dragonflies stay still.
But every now and then
the wing
moves —
Is it trying to fly? —
Once the wing fell and was lost
to me.
I recovered it
while dusting behind the box.
Sometimes I forget the whole one;
even when it’s there, I don’t see.
I allow the sight of the wounded one —
and the wing — to haunt me,
knowing the butterfly will never be whole
but hoping to one day reach
Solace and Resolution.
Yet,
maybe I began this wrong.
Perhaps, after all,
this will be
about finding serenity
while watching a butterfly, a wing.
A Return to Love
I told myself
I’d never again
open my heart or
let someone in.
But you came
knocking at my door.
And my spirit whispered
”try once more.”
I flung open the door—
a trust fall without fear.
You strode into my heart.
I’m so glad you’re here.
Hour11
What is universal and gathers people together? Laughter, of course! 🎶
2022 Poem Eighteen
A Vegetarian’s Nightmare
The long line of tail lights barely illuminate the
Parking lot that’s still too wet from earlier’s rain.
The sky has no moon, no stars,
only clouds drunk on the threat of more puddles
to fill this under cared for and overused drive thru.
The line creeps slower and my stomach louder.
I swear it’s caving in on itself at twice the speed we’re moving.
Once I’m close enough to the speaker to hear
shouts of my order reach the relic of Y2K.
One large Baja Blast and six spicy potato tacos, please.
Excitement mounting for the inevitable nuptials
of cannabis and tacos.
Static with a hint of human voice announces:
We discontinued potatoes as part of discontinuing breakfast.
Would you like to order something else?
I’m now a deer in the headlights;
A building being demolished;
The first balloon a toddler loses to the sky.
No more potatoes? No more spicy potato tacos?
My will to consume Taco Bell is gone.
Uh… I’ll take four cheesy bean burritos then.