Life fades to fallen hues.
Winter’s white with deepest blues.
Spring’s upon a pastel moon.
And summer shines none too soon.
Life fades to fallen hues.
Winter’s white with deepest blues.
Spring’s upon a pastel moon.
And summer shines none too soon.
Our day of thanks is past.
And Christmas is coming fast.
Now all the roads are jammed.
And mailboxes are getting spammed.
Traveling from all around,
our friends and family abound.
The mistletoe will hang in wait,
ready for the kissers’ fate.
With ornaments galore arranged,
precious gifts will be exchanged,
The food and fun will joyfully flow.
But then it’s back to shoveling snow.
It won’t take long, just a few seconds more;
warmth then felt closing the door.
Your goodbyes will be more tolerable.
Hello’s then much more enjoyable.
So never one kiss, always have two.
That’s one for me and one for you.
Memories then linger and smiles persist.
That’s two for two, who could resist?
Sitting in the rain, I see the world pass by.
I try to think sunny thoughts beneath a cloudy sky.
I hear drops on the glass, watching the grass glisten.
Nature’s calling from all around if to truly listen.
The birds are still singing high up in the tree.
The fish, I’m sure, are splashing in the open sea.
The bugs are always bugging, whatever it is they do.
And pets forever snuggle, loving me and you.
It makes stop to ponder and reflect upon our race.
As one of many humans I know I’d miss this place.
Yet we try to sculpt our views in ways that we choose.
The picture may be pretty but our nature we lose.
The sun will shine again and wash away this gray.
And unless we’ve a catastrophe we’ll see another day.
As is life, our time is short, as is every other breed.
But the future of our world’s less dependent on their seed.
“We reap what we sow” is a phrase we should heed.
Like a garden unattended will surely fill with weed.
The food we grow will dwindle, eventually to cease.
We’ll never feel rain again, but the earth will be at peace.
I know this sounds depressing but that’s not my goal.
I’m truly optimistic but time does take its toll.
Change is all around, like weather, not always fair.
But like a rainy day, the droplets we all share.
I woke today, the outside’s gray,
my room’s cold and this story’s old.
Hunger persists from the night,
yet in this journal I must daily write.
A poet am I until I die,
often to cry, to always ask why.
With bloodshot eyes and inky hands,
words conjured from dreamy lands.
Time, you see, wears heavy on me.
In verse I live, it’s all I’ve to give.
The past is scribed, legends to follow.
The future fore, the now I borrow.
This present I speak, not for the weak.
But persist I must and forgo disgust.
Yesterday’s full of virtue and sins,
tomorrows unknown but today begins.
A capsule of one of a life soon done,
this journal I will, my time’s now still.
And if my time’s now relevant,
this treasure to you I gladly present.
Time for time-out it’ll end soon.
Dug in the yard with mom’s good spoon.
She’s had it since her wedding day.
Used just for holidays, not play.
I said that it was shaped just right,
to dig a trench where armies can fight.
Needs to be deep but not too wide.
Had to dig fast so they can hide.
Buried far down just like a tomb.
Guarding treasure found in your room.
Found in a box high on a chest.
It’s the booty pirates like best.
I must protect those shiny things:
chains, charms, bracelets, baubles and rings.
Hid them good, remembered the map.
But then forgot after my nap.
To help me dig I found a pet.
The best digger there is I’ll bet.
Finished our yard then went next door.
Found nothing, ran off to dig more.
Chased our cat high up in the tree.
Grandma called the police for me.
Her nurse had to help make the call.
The police came, that isn’t all.
While chasing his dog that I found,
the man fell from holes in the ground.
He said he’ll sue, just wait and see.
I said it was his dog, not me.
His face was red, limping away.
But grandma’s heart will be okay.
And I have some more good news.
While digging today, I wore no shoes.
They’re nice and clean and tucked away.
I’ll try no pants some other day.
Though mess was made with my bare feet,
I cleaned it up with hose and sheet.
Pushed all the water out the door.
Then to your room, I cleaned some more.
Too bad the hose didn’t quite reach.
I luckily then found the bleach.
You’ll smile when you turn on the light.
I know you like things clean and white,
with spots of color here and there.
You’ll surely hug your little dear.
I’m glad you’re home early today.
Don’t believe what the neighbors say.
The rescue came, Dad’s all right.
Not much pain, he’ll wake by tonight.
Go to the doctor, I’ll just wait.
I’ll be good and won’t stay up late.
I missed lunch; I’ll make us a snack.
Fix the chair dad broke with his back.
He climbed too high to find his keys,
lost his balance from wobbly knees.
I found some socks to wrap dad’s head.
Then found soldiers under my bed.
Recalled the mission to be done.
Ran downstairs to start the fun.
Found no spoons not already bent.
But then found yours and out I went.
And that’s where my story began.
Now come sit close mom, hold my hand.
I know that time-outs hurt you too.
But when it’s done I’ll still love you.
The switch broke, lights went out.
Now I sit alone in doubt.
Morning comes, eyes stay shut.
The feeling’s gone in my gut.
Hours pass with no refrain.
Only mush fills my brain.
My body’s weak, pain is strong.
Life is short, death is long.
Lips parched, breathing slows.
Numbness reminds of fingers and toes.
Into the light my soul roams.
Blood consumes yesterday’s poems.
Silence heard with no heartbeat.
Time knows no defeat.
If tomorrow I shall see,
a better person I will be.
If a poet when I rise,
this world anew before my eyes.
Nothing lost is nothing gained,
only regrets leave us stained.
Second chances are often rare.
Today’s success is meant to share.
The past gone, ends unknown,
cherish all you have grown.
It’s been a month or maybe more,
it could be less but I’m not sure.
Perspective’s fuzzy, mind’s a blank,
creativity’s done and mood sank.
At least today I wrote a thing,
I hoped that some joy it’d bring.
I wasn’t wrong though it’s not great,
reflecting on these times of late.
Perhaps tomorrow will improve;
I’ll jump out of bed in the groove.
I’ll run downstairs to greet the sun,
damn this chill, let’s awake the fun.
My life has been a roller coaster.
And for many it’s the same.
We’ve all had ups and downs.
And the speed we cannot tame.
The ride we live is changing,
as time always does.
But the future’s our only ticket.
Cos it’ll never be as was.
There’ll be no daily sonnet today.
Thought has wandered and gone astray.
Nimble quill won’t dance on parchment bare,
seducing lonely on table near.
The well is dry from which I must drink.
Chair is empty were journeys to think.
No inky tears shed, blotted or smeared.
No blackened hands bloodied and feared.
Letters scrambled all over my mind.
Their chosen order I cannot find.
Brittle wax puddle proves candles death.
The darkness swallows my daylights breath.
Blindness shackles a masked and heavy head.
I shrink into my unwanted bed.
Heart and soul content for tomorrow.
When ink, I hope, once more will flow
Balls of yarn in a basket rest,
tightly wound await their quest.
Cats a-pouncing, a playful pest,
balls unwound are surely messed.
But if to be a ball at rest,
is to be without life’s zest.
To unwind, we humans blessed.
Perhaps the cat does know best.
But we’re not cats, as you’ve guessed.
And if to pounce we’re addressed.
Our winding road we’re obsessed.
And our time is surely pressed.
But like a basket we welcome guest,
receiving all to our cozy nest.
Though when full we get stressed,
perhaps to knit, but surely I jest.
Our paths in life we can request.
Our destinations we manifest.
But our time we must invest.
Or simply the litter we’ll digest.
The day was young and the coffee’s old.
The season’s new and the outside’s cold.
The inside’s warm so in I’ll stay.
I’m not feeling well this chilly day.
I brewed some more and drink it all.
Saving none then duty did call.
Then back to bed, or at least I thought.
I forgot what excess has often taught.
I tossed and turned for a little too long.
Then to the bathroom, but nothing’s wrong.
I needed a tissue for a sneeze I felt coming.
Proven right the sensation was numbing.
My plans now nixed, the sniffles persisted.
Medicine taken, their side-effects listed.
I’ve started to doze and none too soon.
Please wake me up before the spring moon.
Monsters and ghouls prowl the street.
Ghosts hide beneath their sheet.
Zombies limp on bloody feet.
All are happy when they meet.
Black cats blend to be discreet.
Witches conjure but never cheat.
Werewolf’s howl when they greet.
All awaiting their Halloween treat.
Children rush for goodies to eat.
Parents long to take a seat.
Then the spell’s finally complete,
ending with dreams so sweet.
Finally, the end of the longest day of my life was over. The tears of the past months now free to flow yet strangely absent. This old house quieter than ever, the door closing behind me and the true sense of emptiness was now being felt as I never thought possible.
Leading up to my wife’s death, friends, family and of course my daughter were always close by and the grief shared by all. Now the house is dark as I stand in the hallway not wanting to turn on the light for fear of seeing the reality of finally being alone.
The hall was brighter just this morning as the sun rose and my daughter and I went off to the funeral parlor for Liz, my wife’s final service before our trip to the cemetery. The morning was crisp and clear, a distant smell of lilac hung in the air as the cars lined up for the procession.
The route chosen was considerably longer than necessary but a twisty country road in full spring bloom is a sight to be enjoyed, even if it to be the last. The funeral itself was as beautiful as anyone could expect, the morning mist lingered in the new day and the birds serenaded in the background as hundreds of mourners passed to show love, friendship and respect for a truly remarkable person. A woman whom I loved deeply for many, many years but now feeling I never fully acknowledged as a person or professional and was regretting having not expressed it more when she was alive. I hoped she knew of my love and respect for her as a mother and friend, as a physician, scientist and teacher and of course as a very lucky man’s wife.
The next few days a similar sad and hazy blur, I just roamed from one room to the next recalling all the little things that happened in each one over the thirty years living here. Each had a story, a laugh or tear, all where ours, our colors, our furniture, our books and our clutter. Each and every piece a memory and all memories of an instant in time to never be repeated. A life time that was a life’s time in the making and yet gone in an instant.
Life goes on I’m told and I would like to believe that. I’m sure for many it does. For some however it’s just not meant to be. I realized this when the crumpled remains of my car was dumped in my driveway minutes ago. And I never got to say goodbye.
sck061817 / dft
Monsters prowled the darkened streets.
The time was theirs to search for treats.
Deny their cravings if you dare,
but tricks certain for the unaware.
The moon was full and fog was thick.
This night they’ll feast, tomorrow sick.
Ghosts and goblins in shadows hide.
Porch lights flicker but stay outside.
Fairies welcome and clowns make fun.
Pirates afloat grab treasure and run.
Mummies abound wait for their turn.
Witches swoop to take what they yearn.
Werewolves howl barking desires.
The shrunken in wagons mostly criers.
Superheroes patrol to keep things in line.
The things all laugh cos their doing fine.
The much larger zombies follow the pack.
They beg and plead for an unwanted snack.
The air grew cooler, the end was near.
Then sleep soon ended another nightmare.
I woke up early and the sky was gray.
The world’s in turmoil yet I’ve little to say.
But the birds are happy in the mulberry tree.
I can hear them laughing, maybe at me.
They see our world from high above,
whether gull, robin or mourning dove.
Their time alive is soaring free,
while looking down on you and me.
For if to fly like a bird,
we’d then flock but never herd.
We’d hatch into a nest well made,
free of worry cos no rent’s paid.
Just think of the places we could go.
We could fly south before the snow.
We could eat berries, bugs and worms,
pretty much anything that wiggles or squirms.
There’d be no alarms or jobs we hate.
We could fly to the stars our very first date.
Then glide back down to a favorite tree.
There we’d rest harmoniously.
But we’re not birds and that’s a shame.
Our lives are grounded and mostly tame.
But if to wish on this day that’s gray,
I’d poop on those who stand in the way.
So maybe my wish is not about birds.
It’s about people I think are turds,
those who’ve prevented a world of peace,
for you and me and a gaggle of geese.
A big scary monster lives under my bed.
I never saw their body but maybe saw their head.
Every night they whisper when I try to sleep.
But when my mom comes in she doesn’t hear a peep.
My dad moved my bed and even switched my room.
But it didn’t really matter, my nights still filled with gloom.
They brought me to a doctor to get my head checked out.
They said that they found nothing, but I still have my doubt.
My sister teases me just like the kids at school.
She says that I’m a baby and being scared isn’t cool.
Every day on the bus the kids all laugh at my expense.
But I know I’m right and I think that they’re all dense.
My teacher thinks I’m crazy and doesn’t talk to me.
She says that I’m disruptive and that school isn’t free.
The principal just smiles and asks “how’s my day?”
But when I try to tell her she always walks away.
When the school bell rings I can’t wait to get outside.
But the bus’s always there and there’s nowhere I can hide.
It’s good the ride is short and soon it’ll be done.
My mom will be waiting and she’ll ask if I had fun.
I’ll tell her no and that I had gotten teased.
She’ll make her twisty face and say that she’s not pleased.
I hold her hand tightly and we both walk back inside.
She’ll help me with my homework until my brain is fried.
Then we share a snack before a visit from my friend.
We’ll talk a bunch till supper but then the fun will end.
I’m glad to have a friend who listens every day.
They hear the same old stories, even though they’d rather play.
Next we eat our supper then I’ll suffer through a bath.
Bedtime must be coming soon and another night of wrath.
My door mostly closed and my nightlight’s set on high,
I rest with one eye open and watch the moon rise in the sky.
When the moon got small my eyes began to close.
The monster then tried to eat me and it started with my toes.
But finally the nightmare is over and yes I was wrong.
There was no scary monster; it was just my cat all along.
In the shadow of a city a child was born.
Decades festered to bubbling scorn.
His body grew large, his head grew bigger,
the search then on for a prized gold digger.
On tabloid pages their faces were strewn,
with scandals, bankruptcies and words of a goon.
Followed by lawyers paid a great sum,
ensuring victims would always stay mum.
While spreading his hate he found his niche.
And being a narcissist he saw no glitch.
He bolstered and bragged about a huge brain.
Some saw a genius, others felt pain.
Despite all his faults a following was had.
His greatness he shared, the world was sad.
Money poured in from sources unknown.
Bull shit prospered and a candidate was grown.
A show was hatched, reality lacking,
the outcome was known, dependent on hacking.
Conspiracies hurled, truth unconsidered,
fears unleashed and thinking dithered.
A president forged by the art of the steal.
In a backseat he waved with a spy at the wheel.
An immigrant descended a hypocrite ascended.
The “We” now he or so he amended.
A king is made with prince and princess.
While the queen hung back at a different address.
A cabinet assembled to kiss his fat ass.
Powers promised to those who could pass.
Those dismissed soon wrote a book.
Others were jailed for being a crook.
Impeachment inevitable, a sigh of relief,
a shakeup at justice led to more grief.
Leadership needed toward the end of his term.
But the mask’s inconvenient because of his perm.
Independence day past (let that sink in…),
freedom being fragile when destroyed from within.
The summer is here though different than most.
As the deaths in this nation is nothing to boast.
But autumn will come and the chips will fall.
A choice we will make, winner takes all.
I’m on a quest for a treasure chest.
No pirate will stand in my way.
My maps were all in order.
My journey started that day.
My ship was ready to sail.
The sky was blue and clear.
The breeze filled my lungs.
The time was growing near.
Sunset ended a beautiful day.
Then the wind began to blow.
The rain soon was drenching.
My crew all hid below.
I manned the helm alone.
The sails I couldn’t adjust.
Lost and tossed in darkness.
I had to better my best.
The night felt never-ending.
My eyes began to close.
The air grew bitterly cold.
I couldn’t feel my toes.
Sunrise was surely welcome.
The rain began to wane.
The crew decided to join me.
They saw I was in pain.
I ate a hearty breakfast.
Then they all began to clean.
My sails were all mended.
The best I’d ever seen.
Spirits returned to normal.
Good cheer was felt by all.
Then days dragged on forever.
Soon it would be the fall.
The navigator came on deck.
He had some terrible news.
Our location was unknown.
The maps shed no clues.
Half whispered of a mutiny.
The rest was on my side.
Surprise was on their faces.
The fear they couldn’t hide.
The crew grew more impatient.
Our quest should’ve been done.
The lookout then spied an island.
It glowed in the noon day sun.
The boats then quickly lowered.
My crew abandoned ship.
I left standing all alone.
I wished to end this trip.
Another month had passed.
Then a ship came into view.
I was now found safe.
But no word of my crew.
I was angry for their failure.
I thought I was to die.
For this quest was sure to fail.
When the crew was only I.
I hope a lesson learned.
That help we all will need.
And me, myself and I,
always sounds like greed.
My quest is not forgotten.
A new ship I will find.
A new crew will be hired.
And to them I’ll be more kind.
Can love grow every day?
Yes it can I’m here to say.
It starts as a glance, blooms with a kiss.
And thus begins a life of bliss.
Hearts beat, each in tune.
Harmony’s struck beneath the moon.
Poetic thoughts flow with ease,
thoughts of passion sure to please.
Time has changed for the good.
Our world now feels as it should.
Downside’s nil when the upside large.
And negatives retreat with a positive charge.
Autumnal sunsets, nothing new
Clouds ablaze and sky deep blue
Second looks, few hold dear
There’s other thoughts this time of year
Weather’s changing and holidays soon
The race for home before the moon
There hunger’s fed and cozy bed
Rise with the sun, its path we’re led
Orange and yellow now out of reach
Pinks and purples fade to peach
Lilac hues whither to gray
Stars above end the day
Life is for the tasting.
Time is not for wasting.
Joy is what is found.
When tomorrow’s we are bound.
Escape the path of wrath.
The proof is in the math.
The more love that you share,
the more you are aware.
The more things that you see,
the more you’ll feel free.
The more things that you feel,
the more your life is real.
Though hardships get us down,
the winners wear the crown.
They toast the end of day,
tasting dreams there to stay.