Grandchildren are
life changers,
deal sealers
harbingers of better
days to come,
like spring’s first
robin.
Waiting for their
promised arrival
with countless
pacings to the
windowpane
curtains pushed aside
every crunch
on the drive,
each distant
chirping,
waxing then waning in
doppler-tuned ears.
And then a glimpse,
a hush
and a rush of
excitement.
Hold still
robins.
Stay awhile.
Tag: free verse
Sometimes Pain
pain is now televised
pundits ponder the
circumstances
terrorist ties?
white male loner?
more gun regulations?
fewer gun restrictions?
does any of that matter anymore?
have we accepted this as the
usual business?
sometimes pain
overrides the well-worn
patterns,
overcomes the malaise.
i find curses slipping from my lips like wine from a carafe:
emboldened red,
dizzying,
potent.
but please,
don’t show me
i’m all pained out,
the story remains
the same.
Easy Times
i read the news this morning of a friend’s mother having a stroke,
and another’s father breaking a hip.
i heard of an adult child who fled
his responsibilites and left his
wife and children for a fling.
i thought about the pain we experienced
as young parents, worrying about our
infants’ developmental stages.
i recalled the nights spent agonizing
over my teenagers’ angst and woes,
their heartaches and heartbreaks.
i wept when reflecting on the loss
of my parents, both gone too soon
from my life; too young from theirs.
i realized there are no easy times,
nothing worthwhile comes without cost.
the joys of loving our only reward.
Recently a beloved uncle passed away after a long illness. When I shared the news on Facebook a friend who’d recently experienced a similar loss commented that we are at a tough age.
I knew what she meant. I’ve lost both of my parents, as have most of my closest friends. Several in my age group have experienced the traumatic loss of a spouse, and some the loss of a child.
We are the sandwich generation, those of us in our mid-to late 50’s. Some still have children at home while simultaneously caring for aging parents. I would almost say it is the most difficult time. But then I started thinking and the poem appeared.
There are no easy times. We might be fooled for a second by a lull in the action, but every stage has its pitfalls. The love is worth it, though. Just keep plugging.
Peace, people!
Nothing to Say
I had nothing to say today
So I’m not going to say it.
Of course if I’m being honest
I’ve already said something.
Dadgum it’s hard for me,
This wordless disposition.
I’m sure it’s a temporary
State of my current condition.
I was listening to NPR’s TED talks series on Sunday. The main story that morning was about a man who decided to stop talking for one day. That one day turned into twelve years. I couldn’t imagine going without speaking for ten minutes unless I was sleeping. But twelve years?
When I commented on this to Studly Doright he smiled politely and said, “I’d sure like to see you try.”
I’m not sure how I should take that.
Peace, people!
In My Wildest Dreams
i am the undisputed
champion of laundry
and other areas of
womanly domesticity,
in my wildest dreams.
melodies are composed
in honor of my skills
of bold athetic prowess
on the sporting field,
in my wildest dreams.
belle of the ball am i,
wallflower’s opposite
graceful and desirable,
of incomparable beauty,
in my wildest dreams.
flocks of fans gather
pursuing my attention
accolades precede my
effervescent presence,
in my wildest dreams.
in truth i am average,
in every imaginable way
no fans, no praises,
no notable skills,
but i still have dreams.
Inspiration comes from everywhere. This particular piece was inspired by an advertisement for detergent. If only my laundry could be that fresh, that perfect….ah, if only.
Simply Speaking
simply speaking
i feel helpless,
useless, wasted.
simply speaking
i feel anguished,
broken, crushed.
no complicated
phrases convey
this despair:
again.
Broken People
we are
broken
each one
of us
from the
inside
(no matter
how beautiful,
or talented,
or together
we pretend
to be)
there are
cracks,
porcelain
fine,
criss-
crossed
etchings
across our
souls.
we are
whole
each one
of us
on the
inside
(no matter
how battered,
or discouraged,
or frightened
life has
made us)
there are
gold shot
veins of
strength,
defying
all odds
celebrating
our souls’
survival.
Only Love
I tell you this
with great hope
and trepidation.
we are not meant
to withstand such
excesses in love.
so indulge me in
a more meaningful
conversation.
and we’ll explore
the boundaries set;
enough is enough.
i am unsure if my
heart is capable
of this affection,
and even were it so
surely yours would
crumble with strain.
simple love is best,
you see, with fewer
forms of dereliction,
best to love with one’s
heart only, and neglect
the deeper kind of pain.
Sonic Vroom
this afternoon was perfect
for two-wheeled adventures,
leaning into modest curves,
feeling brisk exhilaration.
briefly open throttles wide
to pass sedate pedestrians.
ease seamlessly into lanes,
give nods to bikes we meet.
brake for food, hungry now.
partake of Sonic’s cuisine:
cheeseburgers, tots, shakes.
turn toward home as evening
breezes creep under helmets,
and leafy shadows crisscross
roadways, cautioning riders.
Margins
narrow lined paper,
college-ruled;
perpendicular
red boundaries,
front and back.
only left demanded
observance, right
a mere suggestion,
a hint of moving on.
what use could we
make of tangible
margins, neat
demarcations to
guide our steps?
as points of entry
and departure ever
providing checks
and balances.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 