Hour 6 (Painted)
What is Painted
Wow its today
well its not fun for me
but fun for the patrons
Amusement and entertainment
Driven for the thrilling excitement
that is ignited amidst
The fun and fan fair.
Copyright(c)2022 Roxann Lawrence
Dear Harvey (Hour Six)
Dear Harvey
I am thrilled to course through your veins
and down to your hands onto what looks a lot
like typewriter keys but I know is something else.
I’m your grandfather Harry
and you were named for me.
You would think I’d be marveling
at so much that has changed.
But you don’t understand.
Nothing has changed.
I won’t use a lot of words because
all you need to know is simple.
Follow the Ten Commandments.
Especially, honor your father and mother.
I taught your mother by example.
I always had a flower in my lapel
and gave the best advice I could
to those that sought me out.
But of course the Great Depression
taught me a thing or two.
So what can I tell you?
Life can move in mysterious ways.
When you can, try to understand
that it’s not what you do
but how you do it that will
be your legacy.
Prompt 6
Memories
Came across your photograph today
Wasn’t expecting to
Had tucked it inside my jacket when I arrived
And forgotten all about it
The date threw me
Has it really been twenty years since I left
It was the last time we were together
The final hoorah before time called time
Life is so fickle
We should have made a pact
But that would have been unfair on you
I love what you have become
How much you have achieved
The person you are now is not the one in my photo
But that’s alright
You know I am waiting for you
A bottle of white wine in the cooler
And frozen cherries to keep it cold
The sun shines all the time here
And the nights are balmy and romantic
I can’t wait to share them all with you
I tried to have a quick peek in the big book
Tried to find your number
But it’s not allowed
So we will have to keep on waiting
But one day
It will be our turn to dance again
To the rhythms of our eternity
Reliving all our dreams
[Prompt: Write a letter to yourself from the perspective of someone who is no longer in your life.]
THE MOON – Hour 6
I fall into a swoon
at the sight of the moon
like a romantic tune
or the call of a loon.
Though singers will croon
about love coming soon
of the Strawberry moon
appearing in June,
at night I cocoon
at home in my woon
and commune with the moon
my life to attune.
Woon definition – domicile, residence, home, abode (place of living) residence.
IMAGE: Muskoka Moonlight copyright Wendie Donabie
Suffocated
Twenty…nineteen…eighteen…seventeen
Crunch
Gasp
Don’t think about it
Don’t think about it
Don’t you dare think about the pain
Hold the pose
There.
Just a little bit…
Longer
But the discomfort
The discomfort!
Get me out of here…someone…anyone?
One Day
This is one day,
With a warm sofa
And a furry friend,
Fresh paint on the walls
And our favourite painting,
Balloons
And a little bunting.
Time for silly days
And happy days,
This is one day.
Mama
Dear Mama,
I miss those days when we laughed and joked about everything and nothing.
Your quiet resolute tone when you encouraged me to be my best
Those sweet treats that you’d make to titillate the senses
Prayerfully saying the Name of Jesus
Arguing with someone who commented on your child
Telling me I was pretty though it was not so
Making me display confidence when I had none.
I wish you could see me now, I’m a mother with a daughter
Who is doing all those things with her, you did with me
Knowing nothing about motherhood
My mind journeys back to my experience with you
Remembering how you loved me then and how I should love her now
Mama, I’m grateful you had me and that you loved me the way you did
So I could pass it on to someone so precious.
Mama I loved you then and I love you still.
Betrayal
Remember the days we uses to be close
Shared secrets that nobody else knows
I trusted you with all I had
Who knew once promised everlasting friendship could turn out this bad
But there is only you who is to blame
Because you didn’t spare a second thought when the time came
To shatter every memory we ever shared
It’s like you never ever truly cared
You took the knife and sharpened it as well
Stabbed me so hard I bled and fell
The once sweet thought of you now leaves a bitter taste
How many second of my life with you has gone to waste
And although we’ll probably see each other again
There will never again be a time where I call you ” “friend”
Hour 6 : One of Many
I sometimes wonder
If you could ever conclude
The depth of my emotions
The rug you pulled underneath me
I showed you all the love I could give
It’s worrying that you do not understand love
The way I do, “I Love You” doesn’t resound
I have felt you near me, even when you were far
You say, I anchor your fleeting thoughts
Calm the storm inside you
That your soul recognises mine
But you still don’t understand my love
My love for you which ever was
I am tired showing my love to you
I now lie silent at peace
The same peace, which you said you see in me.
Yours lovingly
The Poet
You know the place
This letter won’t arrive the usual way, via post.
i know how much you love to receive mail. You buy stamps just like you did as a fifth grader ordering from Mystic Stamp Company for the first time and wanting every stamp to be the Koala one from Australia.
Nor will it arrive in the dramatic way of your aspirations.
You share a birthday with Laurence Olivier and like him you have a natural affinity with William Shakespeare-you’re not just an Old Soul but a Jurassic one. You bask in your scaly, crotchety Leviathan-ness.
Don’t expect a calligraphy-scribed letter in a bottle.
We were thinking of teasing you and inscribing this letter on your back and arms, like the tattoos we told you never to get because well, you remember, we were so strict with you and said that tattoos are a desecration of your body which is the temple of the Holy Spirit.
no, that would be too much.
And yes, we admit we were wrong. We were so old school and blind to a lot of our own double standards.
a tattoo now and then wouldn’t irk us. But we’d be worried that you wouldn’t paint as much because the tattoos would take up your creative energy
it’s not that Heaven won’t provide us with tons of pen and ink but such things don’t seem as relevant here so this is what we’re going to do—
don’t look for any letter in the conventional way.
just get up and do the things you’ve always wanted
learn to swim
sign up for that mystery tour
bool yourself an entire barn and light it up with a thousand lights and sit on the piano and be a torch singer for a few random hundred guests who’ll have to cook—you sing—for their supper
You see, ever since we left Earth and abandoned all baggage and luggage overboard we saw how much you took care of us. Every day you rose to the challenge of being a caregiver.
that day when Dad was so weak from the pancreatic cancer that he couldn’t even sit up and you were in and out of the house furiously washing lots of sheets underwear and towels so he would stay dry, and you changed his sheets every hour and wouldn’t sleep except on the floor beside his bed, your hand glued to the bottle of ginger ale in case he suddenly felt thirsty and you didn’t want him to miss out, that moved us to tears
we could see that you’re the type of person who takes life by the collar and yanks it towards you for a kiss or a slap, you’re that intense and engaged
bravo you!
we were so proud of you
and that’s why we know you’ll get this message—
every day when you wake up and
renovate the house
learn new languages
walk swim dance sing
every day whenever you act as
Cartographer of your heart
rewriting the wiring of your brain and limbs as you explore
lands of Intrepid souls
you’ll hear us
cheering you on
we won’t say much
nor will we give advice (unsolicited and often interfering) as much as we used to
because we’ll be so much in awe of who you’re becoming that
we’re right next to you, holding onto your hands
as you drive
explore soar
you’ll hear us singing right along to your
Wild Playlist
love, your Mum and Pop