Friday, July 25, 2014

July 25, 2014 dVerse Meeting the Bar/ Broken

dVerse  Meeting the Bar  Prompt: 

Hopes and dreams
Eggs into pieces

Climates into pieces

When something breaks
Eggs into a million pieces
Nothing can be fixed
Nothing can be mended
We have forgotten how
We never knew
An instruction book or
A video is required
To put Humpty Dumpty
Together again

In the past you would see
Shops with signs
Sewing machines
Vacuum cleaners
Radios repaired
Good as new

Now nothing is to be repaired
If its’ broken throw it out
Get something new
Nothing is of value
Nothing lasts
...The dump is full of
Broken plastic hearts

July 25, 2014

Thursday, July 24, 2014

July 24, 2014 Writer's Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompts: #272 To Stay or To Go

To Go or To Stay
Should I go now or later
It was if my foot was nailed to the floor
And I would go round and round
I did not know how sick you were
Tests were being given
Results speculated on
Then more tests
And different speculations
Which required more tests
And on and on the week went
In memory the whole thing
Seems like a whirlpool
Or merry-go-round

Near the end of the week
The doctors asked to transfer the patient
To a larger hospital where he would
Be seen by his regular doctor
It was time to go
No more waiting
No more questions
What I didn’t know
Was that my going would be
The last time

Later when there is only sorrow
It is wondered where does it come from.....
Like the Sweet Texas Crude
Which is formed deep beneath the earth
From organic bodies
Sorrow is formed somewhere
Deep in the soul
Or in the DNA of the body
From old sadness’s
Maybe sadness’s from other life times
Ancient sadness’s
And sorrow can bubble up
Come forth like a gusher
Without words only sorrow
Sorrow that can drown
The one who grieves

July 24, 2014

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

July 23, 2014 dVerse Poetics/Your Time and Mine

Your Time and Mine
Time is not always the same
Sometimes it is as slow as molasses
On a Southerner’s tongue
And equally sweet
Sometimes it flashes by
Like a comet with a long tail
By the time one is aware of it
It is only a memory
Sometimes it passes so quickly
It is forgotten before
It can be remembered

My time is different from yours’
My experience of time is my own
And it isn’t always the same
The history of my life has all
Gone so quickly
Soon my life will be over
And it will be in no time at all

Even so I remember a time that moved slowly
As a child waiting for Christmas morning
I thought it would never come
And waiting for the summer holidays
But when they came they literally flew by
Hard to get them into focus
Hard to remember

In your last days
When there wasn’t much time left
I tried to hold onto it
I held my breath
Focused on the seconds
Tried to stretch the day
Still the sands kept sliding away
One day became the next
In a microsecond you were gone
Now I grieve your absence
The days and nights are long
The tides go out
The sands slip from under my feet
All too soon you will
Become part of my past
Most precious memory
My own

July 23, 2014

Sunday, July 20, 2014

July 20, 2014 TheSunday Whirl #170/Do Not Distrub

Do Not Disturb
Words written
Songs sung
A life hangs in the balance
All day long the music played
It would have taken
A little more than magic
To make my world all right

On warm summer nights
Toads sang ‘Guarrumph’
In a fortissimo tone
Then the old toad
Jumped away
The bees buzzed
And swarmed over
The honeysuckle

At the forest’s edge
Fireflies sparkled
Playing tag
In competition
With the stars up
In the heavens
...who was brighter

It would not be long...
Until the sun would set
My happiness would go away
It would all be over
The days passed
Far too quickly
The clock stopped
My brain on fire
Trying to understand
A life was ending
Passions folded 
Put away like cool linens

That morning when we arrived
She looked up from her work
There was no question
We could see it in her eyes
She had been waiting for us
The music had ended
A sign hung on the door
‘Do not disturb’
This peaceful room
My Son has gone away

July 19, 2014

Note:  This is about the time my Son was dying, I was aware of the honeysuckle growing everywhere, the scent intoxicating.   I was reminded of my childhood, warm summer nights filled with fireflies (There may have been fireflies in Baltimore, but I didn’t see any, except in my memory?).

That morning my Sister and I, arrived at the hospital, there was a woman at the desk, we had not seen her before, but it was apparent, she was waiting for us.  She explained that Jim had died just minutes before.  I had been told, ‘Children and very independent people usually die when their parents leave the room, or before they return.'  Jim was my child (and would always be in life and in death) and a very independent person.  Though saddened, I was not surprised to find he had left before we returned.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

July 19, 2014 In the Beginning/ Distortion of Time and Space

In The Beginning
You were three days old
When we picked you up
Beautiful baby first step
On your journey
And to think you selected us

My heart is twisted now
It’s return to its’ original form
Isn’t likely
It is crippled now
Broken to a thousand pieces
Like a jigsaw puzzle
Scattered across the floor
Who will pick up the pieces
Who will fit them together
Who will restore

It isn’t something
Someone can do
Healing comes when
The right words are found
Fitted together
The story is told
Memories profound

July 19, 2014


Distortion of Time and Space
My life a distortion of time and space
A world reflected on a shiny silver balloon
Sometimes stretched horizontally
At other times vertically

When stretched horizontally
The day seems to go on forever
Time slows down
I see myself in slow motion

When stretched vertically
It seems I am an empty shell
At the bottom of the sea
Lost my purpose for being
I am gently moved back and forth
By the tides as they come in
Then back out to sea

I float in a dreamscape
Of desert
You are no longer here
The heart of my heart
An empty shell that no longer beats

It seems in that moment
There was a loud bang
That marked ‘before and after’
I covered my ears
Though it was not reported
Then an eerie silence
The church bells in the valley
Ceased their ringing

I could no longer feel myself
It was as if I disappeared
Yet I remained on the edge
To see you fall
Helpless I was not able
To catch you
This was to be our destiny
Recorded in stone

James Henry Livingston  born May 22, 1966  2:42pm  died June 6th  2014  7:15am

Note:  Inspired by the words of Terry Tempest Williams, “Distortion of time and space....floating in a dreamscape of desert and water and sky...”  When Women Were Birds