No hourglass will hold the sand that sifts through my fingers at this moment. As I stand here, my thoughts are of the present we could have had.
Walks on the shore. The shells we would take as mementos. Your favorite dish with linguine, you scoffing at any choice that has shells or rotini. Laughter, as we share a private joke. Talk of our future, our eyes locked, communicating in unspoken words.
The ether holds my closest connection to you now, your name mere pixels before my eyes, never fully in focus. Messages never sent languish, familiar only to me.
I place one message in a bottle, turn to the shore behind me, and cast it into the future we’ll never have. I turn back to gaze into the desert before me.
There is logic in that progression. There to here, a direct route.
But it was not logic that drove me. It was love that brought me down those roads. Logic would have asked, “Why?”
Leave behind all I’d come to know in my life? But what would life be without you? And so, I chose this road rather than a life of regret. I chose you, and that made all the difference.
This poem is my response to Day Two at napowrimo.net, where the prompt, inspired by the Robert Frost poem “The Road Not Taken,” is to “write a poem about your own road not taken – about a choice of yours that has ‘made all the difference’ and what might have happened had you made a different choice.” In 2012, I followed my heart and moved from New York to Missouri.
Expand your mind. Suspend disbelief and bring relief. Seize that fine line between yesterday and tomorrow. This moment, any moment, is yours to uncover. Whatever you find, wherever you find it, you’ll still be here when you get there; always be there, even when you return.
The deeper you go the more you’ll know. With no load to carry, the world is in your hands. Experience sonic expansion. More than memory, the mansion of your mind is a palace, no less than the world that surrounds you. More than you know, and more than that, awaits you.
This ekphrastic poem is my response to Day One at napowrimo.net, where the prompt is to write a poem inspired by the animated version of “Seductive Fantasy”, by The Sun Ra Arkestra.
moon no longer full
there is less light in the world
when a friend passes
This senryū is my response to Colleen Cheseboro’s #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge #219: #specificform, which asks that we write a haiku or tanka on any subject. While mortality has been an occasional subject in my poetry over the years, it seemed to become more of a recurring theme once I reached Medicare age, three years ago. What can I say? People around me are getting older. I’m getting older.
Images Wikimedia Commons – Heron at New Moon, by Ohara Koson
Waning gibbous moon, Jefferson City Missouri, 01 April 2021
This will serve as my poem for Day 1 of National/Global Poetry Writing Month,
in case I don’t meet the challenge at napowrimo.net.
Joy, like a flame A gift of enlightenment The warmth of intrinsic value Closer than the far horizon Saying goodbye
One aspect of my discovery of the community of poets at WordPress is the connections I feel I’ve made. While we cannot completely know all of the thoughts of those who are miles away and of whom we’ve never met, I think it’s possible to understand them through their poetry and to share that connection. Sue Vincent has been one of those connections. Sue has been much more than a poet, but there is poetry in everything she has written. She has weighed heavily on my mind since she told us of her grave illness, nearly six months ago. Since then, I have written four poems with her in mind, and I’ve culled some words from those poems to create this poem.
She will be missed. If you read anything of Sue’s, please read this.
The beauty held in the far horizon cannot be gauged until it is experienced. There is no chill in the unknowing, only an awareness of heights scaled and heights waiting to be achieved, the warmth of their intrinsic value.
Light or dark, each moment along the way brings me closer to enlightenment, the hindsight to reveal the gift within each moment, in that moment when all fog is lifted.
This poem, with 99 syllables, is a response to a challenge at The Carrot Ranch, which was to write prose of 99 words or a poem of 99 syllables, inspired by the provided photo (above). Although I inadvertently submitted an earlier draft of 98 syllables, the challenge was for a worthy cause, which was to raise funds to assist Sue Vincent with expenses incurred as she struggles with her illness. The entire collection of responses can be found here.
This human being is a vessel unlike any other,
for no two vessels are the same. Some hold
shame, and others flow with pride
unstopped. Some know a joy that overflows,
while others hold only sadness. This vessel
holds each, balanced in a way that defines it.
This poem is my response to Poetics: The Art of Being Human, the prompt
from Kim at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, with the prompt to write a poem that opens with
“This being human is…” and explores what it is to be human.
the journey a gift of love, life, and Mother Nature
to write of hope
of survival, like a flame
to have mattered is a joy
to become a better vessel
letting go of illusions
learning how to say goodbye
tomorrow is an uncertainty,
rebirth an existence beyond this one
more than belief… the Design
brought into manifestation
part of the One, still part of the One
the fruits of our learning
the One is All… separation
through loss or death is illusion
seeing both sides of life
we know how deep love goes
in the end, choosing the way forward
learn from living
even more, dare to dream
love is always enough
This is a found poem. I hesitate to say it is a blackout poem, because I would not dream of blacking out one word from its source. Sue Vincent’s health is failing, and with no way of knowing when her time will have run its course, she has put into words her thoughts on life and what it will mean to be gone. The full body of that message, The Last Post? can be found at The Silent Eye. By no means is my poem meant to be a summation of her words. It is inspired by her message.