The Twiglets Twiglet #178
The last time I was in a bar
there was a jazz trio on stage
jammin’ the night away
I sat, alone, at the table
waiting for the bass player
while I nursed a rum and coke
and watched through a haze
of cigarette smoke that blurred
the edges of this sad, lonely place
of blue grey bluesy blues
that sank into my soul by osmosis
tingeing my world in indelible blue
enduring memories of you.
Duty calls, cuts short
maims bodies, psyche and minds
they glorify it
but mothers muse why you were
born for such a time as this
Lock Down – Red Wolf
Day follows day
insipid as cold oatmeal
I choke them down
fall into bed at night
hoping for a dream
but awake to morning
another day, another day
and hunger grows in me
for something but I’ve
forgotten the taste
of life my taste buds
have dementia and
long for the sound
of palsy that drags
half my outlook down
distance, droplets, breathe, dance, shy, die, ignorant
Sunday Whirl #456
In the distance, at the far edge
of the yard they dangle like
a bunch of grapes, fat at the top,
tapering to a single purple bloom.
I breathe the sweet fragrance
like droplets of finely sprayed mist
that linger like expensive perfume.
They dance and sway in a light breeze
ignorant, innocent of their beauty.
They spread out, run across the fence,
shyly grasping to the wire with tendrils
of strength and solid determination,
a riot of life, a lust of being,
carefree promise of longevity…
except the blooms
die so quickly, a lovely memory.
Like you, who died too soon.
But I remember still
your subtle, sweet fragrance.
Poetic Bloomings – SMALL ISN’T SMALL AFTER ALL
“He prayed as he breathed, forming no words and making no specific request, only holding in his heart, like broken birds in cupped hands, all those people who were in stress or grief.” – Madelyn L’Engle in Two-Part Invention quoting Ellis Peters’ A Morbid Taste for Bones.
Prayer is confusing to me. I feel as though I’m either giving God orders or using His name as an incantation or a good luck charm. I say ‘be with me today’ but hasn’t He promised to never leave me? Maybe I should turn it around and say “May I be aware of your presence today.” I pray ‘keep my loved ones safe on the road today.’ Am I asking or commanding and if they aren’t safe will I assume He didn’t hear- He was not able- I’m being punished or they are? Someone is ill and I want healing; I’m the child of a King, they say, God will give His children their heart’s desire. But I don’t know what’s best in His plan. Maybe I could say ‘I recognize all things are in your hands so help me trust your wisdom in your will.’
Prayer, maybe I should stop calling it that, as though it is a special, magical thing and instead think of it as a conversation. “Good mornin’, Lord, thank you for a night’s rest and promise of another day. Help me hear your still, small voice guiding me today.”
Holding toward Heaven
in cupped hands broken-winged folks
wordless prayer to You.
poeticbloomings You are the last tree standing in the forest. Write from this viewpoint.
I stand on the edge of the world
and survey my great domain of
flat plains, clumps of growth and
a sky that lifts above like a blue
soliloquy the clouds blithely ignore
in their journey to nowhere.
I see to the far distance mountain
ranges, lofty, wise in their silence
under the bleached thundering sun
and years have passed during these
thoughts, time is different for me
I may yet live to see sapling trees
Prompt from Poetic Bloomings – Mother’s Day
Some of us have to look to the past
to understand those we love despite
the way they are or maybe because
it’s the only way we can love them.
Growing up in the 30’s wasn’t easy
on top of that a dad who drank, mom
who had to work away from home
you with relatives who didn’t want you.
A teenage marriage, the war, in-laws
who hated you, widowed, three kids…
life just wasn’t easy and, maybe, you
felt cheated. Two more marriages,
two more widowhoods and in-between
some selfishness, narcissism and
neediness. And here we are, together.
I know you did the best you could