time

Shades of Dark

Sonnets of emotion; love and devotion

Poetry of gloom and despair

Words that swell from within

Seeping doubt and fear

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Alas the pen will scrape the bottom

Of the well I wish to dry

But brittle, little shards of black

Have crusted in my eye

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Tears will form, puddles made

And ink again will flow

Pools crinkle up my sheets

The sunrise makes them glow

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Perhaps today a limerick

A laugh to share with all

Or maybe a teeny tiny Haiku

Powerful yet small

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The mornings bring answers

Always something new

But as the day brightens

I find I have no clue

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The sun is high and I am low

Waiting for the night

There I’ll share my world with demons

Where the dark share equal sight

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~*~

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Dead Tired

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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.

The End

sck061817 / dft

Day Anew or Deja Vu

I woke up nice and early,
to start my day off right.
I tip-toed to the kitchen,
to watch the new day’s light.
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I made myself a coffee,
one sugar but never cream.
The water didn’t boil;
I thought it was a dream.
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I went back to the bedroom;
I found I was still there.
I slept rather peacefully;
it gave me quite a scare.
~
The cat was also sleeping,
curled up in a ball.
I gave her a little scratch,
she didn’t move at all.
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I nudged my sleeping wife,
she didn’t make a peep.
I cuddled up beside her,
hoping I’d fall asleep.
~
The cat was first to rise,
soon jumping off the bed.
My wife then too awoke,
turning her pretty head.
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She didn’t even see me,
as I lay there by her side.
I could see she was awake,
her eyes were open wide.
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I feared that I was dead,
now a ghost out to haunt.
I gazed into the mirror,
I did look rather gaunt.
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My wife started screaming,
shaking the sleeping me.
I knew we had a problem;
the evidence’s plain to see.
~
The alarm then started ringing,
time came into view.
I gasped for needed air;
I then started the day anew.

~*~
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Old News

A milestone’s coming and it’ll be soon,
decades in wait, seen many a moon.
Suns have risen and all have set.
There’ll be a last, but not there yet.
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A half dozen here and a half dozen there,
a middle’s been found, but I don’t care.
The body’s slowing, as is the mind.
Questions answered but still more to find.
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Thoughts now scattered as a puzzle unmade.
Borders redrawn as the memories fade.
Steps now higher as heights decline.
Trips once painful now feel fine.
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Aggression decreases and assertiveness rules.
Passivity wanes when there’s less to lose.
Life’s still good with passion unfazed.
With a muse to love I’m daily amazed.
~
The support of all knows no ends.
Thanks to be given to family and friends.
Yes, a milestone’s coming, but it won’t be bad.
Sixty’s just a number, no need to be sad.

~*~
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Just Dessert

I’ve had my fill, now I get cake.
And a warm embrace when I awake.
I’ll have a dozen kisses, oh so sweet.
Or maybe thirteen for a bakers’ treat.
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The frosting I’ll save until the end.
And I’ll share it all with my best friend.
We’ll enjoy it fresh and then make more.
Forever nourished, that’s what love’s for.

~*~
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Thankful Beginnings

I started to write a love poem but it had no end.
As the love I’m now feeling surely will transcend.
If only to imagine tomorrow’s blissful ways,
the sun will shine inside and out the remainder of our days.
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Smiles and laughter fill our time with kisses in between.
Some good natured guidance shared, but never ever mean.
Together we’re always playful, never do we fight.
We’d rather be making love; morning, noon and night.
~
We contemplate the sunset sipping our evening tea.
We’ll cuddle in bed later while we watch late night TV.
We wake up every morning snuggled together as one.
We’re thankful for each other and the new day we’ve begun.

~*~
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A Little Proof

The forest is gone where once a home.
A people lost, now destined to roam.
Legends of old speak of their race,
though only of blurs, never a face.
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Smaller than dwarves, bigger than fairies,
their language mistaken for frantic canaries,
they’re easily missed being so small.
A full grown adult’s barely twelve inches tall.
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Their numbers blossomed to one hundred per tree.
Nature, their home, they could be no more free.
They chose to stay hidden, out of harm’s way.
The choice wasn’t theirs, they learned the hard way.
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The giants invaded with axes in hand.
They chopped and cut for towns they had planned.
Centuries have passed and the invasion persists.
The Liluns survived but only few still exist.
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They still choose to hide and that’s probably good.
As the giants don’t always do as they should.
Their wishes fulfilled at whatever the cost.
This story’s the proof of the many who’ve lost.

~*~
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Simply Grand

One thousand kisses each morning,
a thousand more every night,
ten thousand more in between,
fulfill our days delight.
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One thousand thoughts about her,
a thousand dreams I’ve known,
ten thousand days or more,
we’ll never be alone.
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“I love you” a thousand times spoken,
thousands more I’ve heard,
infinity is our goal,
any less is simply absurd.

~*~
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Complete

The sun yet risen, the sky yet blue.
Yet my day grows brighter in my view.
A dream begins when I open my eyes.
The truth is seen as she lies.
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Truth is felt with a gentle kiss.
She pulls me closer to share the bliss.
I feel her breath, our heartbeats in sync.
Our body’s one, none to think.
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But if thoughts be had none compare.
A fantasy found, in love we stare.
Temperatures rise in the new dawns glow.
Our senses awaken, whispers flow.
~
Visions guide our pleasures sought.
Tomorrow’s now, time has taught.
Our love given is love received.
And another day we’ve achieved.

~*~
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Egg Waits

Awaiting a shells fateful date,
eggs alone beat in wait.
When a pair scrambles to meet,
futures fertile swim to greet.
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Pairs joined to each a share,
new is made over easy with care.
Hatched a recipe for pure delight,
sliding from heat, home plate’s in sight.
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Yet time fragile, forking’s no joke,
bad luck befallen bound by yoke.
Getting fried never rehearsed.
And the wait answers which came first.

~*~
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Relies

There’s a quiet in the darkness,
our sun yet to rise.
Beauty’s still in hiding,
only truth’s before our eyes.
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Soon the dawn will beckon,
shedding the world’s disguise.
Silence then a memory,
light exposing the lies.
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The world now filled with sunshine,
always a pleasant surprise.
Then we wait for the sunset,
again to feel we’re wise.
~
By day we have distraction,
evenings we revise.
Sleep brings us solace,
giving strength to ask the whys.
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Questions fill our heads,
life’s answers we surmise.
Half asleep or awake,
tomorrow is our prize.

~*~
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Hot and Cold Memories

We all walked to school without a care.
We stopped at the store with pennies to share.
Cats and dogs always ran free.
Trees were claimed by them and me.
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We rode our bikes like we were all nuts.
Our hands and knees came home with cuts.
Bikes had brakes most of the time,
or slowed by sneakers covered in grime.
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Any spot with grass was called a yard.
We swam in places with no lifeguard.
Snowballs were made no matter the cost.
We wore socks on our hands when gloves were lost.
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We all had to fight every once in a while.
Our moms would yell but dads would smile.
Rooms were shared and sometimes beds,
smelly feet tickling their brother’s heads.
~
Then junior high came and we had to change.
Our hair grew long and our clothes got strange.
Many smoked cigarettes and other stuff.
There were lots of choices but enough was enough.
~
Childhood then ended and the troubles began.
When the problems started most of us ran.
Some now have passed; some did well,
but all fondly remembered though it was hell.

~*~
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Viscous Visceral Visions

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Poet’s pen words as painters paint hues,

each exploring infinite shades of the blues.

Whether a canvas large or ragged scrap small,

quills and brushes cover them all.

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Syllables shade the sentence with shadow,

of portraits deep and seascapes shallow.

While watercolors will always wash away,

ink and oils shimmer for another day.

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Surreal or real really anything goes,

whether rhyming verse, freeform or prose.

Maybe some Shakespeare or dogs playing cards,

velvet backs drape to both blind and bards.

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Ropes of velvet secure master pieces.

A sandwich of glass will smooth out the creases.

Though nothing’s smooth in a perfect sense,

waves perpetually bristle from light to dense.

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Mirrors project light already seen.

Reflection occurs on the matted screen.

Largeness lingers, all mediums fade,

little’s lost when something is made.

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What’s unmade forever unknown,

forever unseen and can never be grown.

Whatever’s not lost will be our gains.

And when tears dry an image remains.

~*~

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Past Tense

Imagine adventure, step back in time.
Halls with doors, surprises mine.
Ghostly greetings with every blink,
the past behind we’re led to think.
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Spirits pass spirits on.
Spirit’s off spirit’s gone.
Souls see the soul-less be.
Soul’s sense, soul’s free.
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Minds absorb, till out of time.
Tour’s done, step back in line.
Entry’s open, time to depart.
Life awaits, make the start.

~*~
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New Beginnings and Finished Ends

Today’s a new day, today’s a new start.
When feeling creative everything’s art.
Today’s the day I’ll get back on track.
Yesterday’s gone and now I’m back.
~
I wasn’t blue and that’s always good,
cos when I am I write more than I should.
I wasn’t too busy, I can always make time.
It wasn’t mechanics, I can always rhyme.
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I’ve got some ideas but scattered are they.
I’ve got lots of words but little to say.
But today’s a new day, then’s now the past.
So write I must, cos today’s ending fast.

~*~
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Imagining Real Fantasy

Grunts, growls, nods and shrugs
Smiles, laughter, kisses and hugs
Ashes smeared on homes rock wall
Soon words flow free, seemingly natural

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Lessons learned, lessons shared
Lessons remembered, fierce feared
Nurtures nudged, natures shaped
Bodies tortured, minds raped

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Minds make from minds made
Mountains tumble, foundations laid
Sky’s scraped, outer spaced and arms raced
Hole in the sky, Earth’s tears cry, life traced

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Trails, trials, words and meanings don’t just appear
Nothing’s truly discovered if someone’s already there
We learn from others mistakes, less from their good
We do all the things that we’re told we should

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We learn from books written by others, as they choose
Remembering what we choose, when in pretty prose
Reality is, as what fantasy was
History’s reality that was just because

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So because became to hide the shame
But the causes that cause are still the same
History’s posted now, in real-time
Fantasy posted all the time

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Reality’s fantasy some of the time
Fantasy’s reality most of the time
Most everything we hear, feel, think and see
Imagined and created just for us, thus fantasy

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I speak in riddle, write in rhyme
Never say much, most of the time
When speaking I stutter, ramble and blather
So when thinking, write I’d rather

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Then edit out space in-between
With the time never to be seen
Then post to a post I write as a ghost
A post that I host to share with the most

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I can’t imagine a fantasy more real
When reality’s made with fantastical zeal
Just a note, I make stuff up; don’t know if it’s true
I’m just real confused, I imagine, just like you

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Pro-Procrastination

The house is quiet and the pets at ease.
The yard awaits, says “mow me please”.
But I’ve things to think and words to rhyme,
because love comes first all of the time.
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The grass can wait and those dishes too.
There’s much to do and hours so few.
So busy I’ll be in La-La land,
love in my heart and pencil in hand.
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I’ll pen her poetry of love, joy and bliss,
recalling how quick was our one millionth kiss.
I’ll wax poetic and melt in her arms,
though her hotness not needed, just her charms.
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I’ll say “I love you” in every possible way.
And I’ll say it often every single day,
but words meaningless when actions speak.
So I’ll finish this poem and start my week.

~*~
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Manifestication

I sit and wait for words to flow.
Where they’ll take me I never know.
I’ve danced with stars and commanded the sea.
I’ve chatted with wizards that look just like me.
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My hand’s my wand to wave to and fro.
My mind’s the place we always go.
My eyes have absorbed many a sight.
My ears heard thunder and “I love you, goodnight”.
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My life’s been shaped by uncertainty,
striving always to be not me.
Seconds have crept and years have flown.
I’ve learned some things best unknown.
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Yet time is for shaping, both future and past.
The now unmoldable, it happens to fast.
Love has been felt, now again every day.
On carpets we ride and on clouds we lay.
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Age has taught me many new things;
the less one cries the more one sings.
The more one loves the less there’s hate.
And the more one laughs the happier the mate.

~*~
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Precious Mettle

Off to the mailbox for my monthly check,
when a crashing blow hit my neck.
I woke in a cell filled with other old guys.
We all laughed to find we’re all old spies.
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An enemy hacked us and addresses found,
We were all then hostages held underground.
Our brains to be picked for treasure long lost,
the knowledge valuable as noted by their cost.
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Across the hall were ladies we knew,
agents we recognized, but for a few.
A plan was hatched, arthritis be damned!
When a guard comes by they’ll be slammed.
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We then waited and rested no need to hurry.
Naps are good and we’ve no need to worry.
The ladies then flirted with mature confidence.
The guard withered by worldly effervescence.
~
The code culled we shuffled to get free,
arm in arm in groups of three.
Footsteps heard then alarm bells rang.
Adrenaline soared and up we sprang.
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Youth’s no match for the well-seasoned mind.
We hid in the shadows for them to find.
One by one the threats were gone.
And soon I’d be home to cut my lawn.
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The weeds a bugger and leaves make a mess.
The grandkids expected, sorry to digress.
Now back to the story, before I forget.
We found the exit but the passage was wet.
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Those rascals in charge too had a plan.
They’d drown us all like the cruelest hit man.
But optimists they are thinking they’d win.
As experts we’re all with the simple hairpin.
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The water knee high and their lock we’d picked.
And soon they’d see who’d be tricked.
Gray, white and bald we glistened in the sun.
We strode out together, too old to run.
~
The culprits scrambled but soon were caught.
The lesson learned is time has taught.
And sometime silver is better than gold,
a precious reward growing old.

~*~
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