Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Hope, coffee, and Poetry/imaginary gardens with real toads

Hope, Coffee, and Poetry

Nothing more 
Nothing less
You came into the shop
Where I worked

We chatted
You took my hand
We smiled 
As we looked into each other’s eyes

I thought …a lovely man
Now isn’t that hope?
Of course, I did not know
You would be my lover

But what a nice smile
You came to see me 
We had coffee
We talked of shoes and sailing ships

You told me who you were
And I told you about me
All the pieces fit
The puzzle complete

Based on that chance meeting
You listen to my poetry
You write and read to me
My life complete

You deserve a lover
That is the same
He loves me
He loves me not

He takes away lies
Brings hope
And poetry

November 13, 2018

"You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry.”
~ Frida Kahlo

Sunday, November 11, 2018

I Remember You/the sunday whirl world 376 -- poets united

I Remember You 

It was my birthday
In the year of our lord 1991
We made the journey
You fly-fished in the San Juan

The light sparkled off the water
Without knowing
We were exploring a place
That would soon be my home

Land of Enchantment
With our walking sticks
We hiked and sang songs
Just a little off pitch

One never knows what is ahead
Still we continue
Even what we think of 
As the impossible

You said, you could not be happy
Without the coast
We are never really stranded
The road ahead always looks promising

There is no machine
That can tell you what tomorrow will bring
After you left
The years passed

I yearned to talk with you
Ask what you think
After all these years
I miss you still

November 11, 2018

Saturday, November 10, 2018

It is Autumn Again/imaginary gardens with real toads

It is Autumn Again

The wind blows the blades of the windmill

The windmill spins
It is Autumn again

The light of the sun
Reflects from the blades
As the leaves fall from the branches

November 10, 2018

Thursday, November 8, 2018

A Poem is a Self Portrait/A Mirror of You/imaginary gardens with real toads

A Poem is a Self Portrait/A Mirror of You

You ask for a poem
Made of thin air
Seasonings of your choice
Appropriate for the season

Dust bunnies
Hair and bones
A bit of heart
And you

Knead into a ball
Roll flat
And bake in the over

Temperature your choice
Do you like it light-brown
Or do you like it burned
Length of baking time

Again, up to you
The recipe flexible
Suited for your own purpose
Arranged on white paper

Words of black ink
Suited to your own taste
Served best to gathering of friends
Delivered with your best voice

Every poem a self portrait
Like your signature
It is one of a kind
A mirror of you

November 8, 2018

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Reading Fiction Just for Fun/poets united midweek motif/fiction

Reading Fiction Just for Fun

With our eyes we see
See the words
Give meaning
Collect ideas

Fill inner world
With made up people
Made up ideas
Made up stories

The world seems forever busy
Just to stay alive
Takes so much precious time
Instead I would like to 

Curl up with a book
Let the world go by
Turn off the TV
Turn on the music

Fall down the rabbit hole
Eat the fodder
That enriches life
Colors the narrative

Oh time
Precious time
Why have you forsaken me
I fall asleep reading you

November 7, 2018

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

The Vote/dVerse

The Vote

The vote was made
Signed sealed and delivered
Dropped into the box
In a wink of the eye
We will know
Either we like it
Or we don’t
The chasm appears deep
We swam in deep waters before
We lived to tell about it

November 6, 2018

Savagely Sad/imaginary gardens witth real toads

Savagely Sad

Savagely sad, you say
But what about the people
Who live in war zones
Who try to escape

Who walk for thousands of miles
Without shoes
Barefoot across hot pavement
Across stickers

With blisters
A trail of tears
Each day they carried their dead
The people who gathered to see

Cried all the way
Bring the teapot to the table
Two tea cups
Sit with me for a while

We will talk of cabbages and kings
Of shoes and sailing ships
We will count the missing
Count the empty chairs

We will remember 
When life was full
When we were needed
When we lost our keys

Late for school
Everything hard edge
A man is expected to live 76.4 years
Individual expectation unknown

November 2, 2018

Note:  In a response to a poem, Brendan said, "savagely sad."  And I thought, what a wonderful title, here is my poem.

Sunday, November 4, 2018

Reverie/the sunday whirl #375 -- poets united poets pantry

The morning pink
Above the horizon
The mountains a misty blue
All is quiet and still

No breeze blows
It is as if the world
Is holding her breath
Lost in her dreams

The child sings a song of her own
Attentive to the soft kitten
Petting her gently
Mother stirs the eggs

Prepares breakfast
In her mind
She dreams
Of the long drive home

The past rolls before her
Like a movie
The child tugs on her skirt
She returns to the kitchen

As though for the first time
To find her hands have
Completed the task
She puts breakfast on the table

November 4, 2018

Wordle 375:  Note:  runny, find, corn, spray  These are the words I didn’t use.

Saturday, November 3, 2018

Head on A Tray/imaginary gardens with real toads

Head on A Tray

How often I have felt
I have my head in my hands
When I have misspoken
When I have foolishly called your name

When I have made a mistake
When I have gone the wrong way
It seems my head
Is not on my shoulders

There is it
Sitting on the tray
Along with the teapot
The cups for tea

Come sit with me
As I adjust my head
In the place it belongs
Perhaps it was but a dream

November 3, 2018

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Once Upon a Time/dVerse

Once Upon a Time

Which time am I speaking of
Your time
Behind time
On Time
Lost time

Before time
Slow time
Quick time
Or my time 

The empty shell 
That once held time
Left alone on the sand
The waves wash over

Silent time
The color gray
We gently shake it
No response

The time about which I speak
Is the silence after
No one to explain
What has happened

Why the sky is gray
No one answers your phone
Like the shell
The world is empty without you

November 1, 2018


My Own Poem/Nothing But Death/imaginary gardens with real toads/Nothing But Death--Pablo Neruda

My Own Poem/ Nothing But Death

Sometimes it seems true
Nothing but death
All are dead
The kids you knew at school

So many have died
Old friends have died
There seems no one left
The family all gone

No one to celebrate
That we are still living
The holidays come
The phone doesn't ring

The house is quiet
Your bed is empty
The boy down the street
The one who had aids

Your folks are gone too
And so are your children
One begins to wonder
Is it nothing but death

November 1, 2018

Note: I was inspired by Pablo Neuruda's poem, Nothing But Death.

Hope, coffee, and Poetry/imaginary gardens with real toads

Hope, Coffee, and Poetry Nothing more  Nothing less You came into the shop Where I worked We chatted You took my h...