rose coloured glasses

when your sky fell

swaddling you breathless

in the blackness

August sun rubbing

salt in your wounds

you laid still

while fools fumbled

reckless with your heart

grief is like a monster

you wear on your face

and they run like you’re godzilla

but you were a flower once

now dying in front of them

petal by petal and in ways

they can’t fathom

still they pick…

I feel for you, I feel not(hing)

I feel for you, I feel not(hing)

“so you round up the usual suspects”

clueless, gutless,

they don’t care less

but none of them fit the mold

they keep painting you in pink

as your pigment pales

on the other side

of rose coloured glasses

I am your host for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub.

We are writing poems that include a movie quote.

“so you round up the usual suspects” – Casablanca, 1942

Doors open at 3 p.m. EST

Nine O’Clock

 

I don’t know the reason I wake up around nine every morning. Late in terms of the working world. Being outside of that, it seems perfect. I’m not sure what makes me sit in the same corner of my couch, hands warmed by my hot tea, slippered feet curled up, sun spilling on my face.

I don’t know why at that very moment when everything felt fine in my world, yours was exploding. How could I possibly slumber while you edged closer to your demise? What reason is there for my contentment and your pain? I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has it’s own reason for being and you had your reason for leaving it.

 

 

For Merril’s Prosery: Possibilities prompt at

dVerse Poets Pub

She asked us to include the following from “Possibilities” by Wislawa Szymborska…

“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has it’s own reason for being”

 

Angel White

 

Today we dig the hole. We’ve already spent a day admiring the little shrub of hope my mother gifted us. “Buy a small tree in remembrance of Brian”, she wrote. This young Rose Tree of Sharon already speaks to us in white blooms as if to say everything will be ok. We choose the perfect spot near the fence. My husband loosens the hard packed dirt further with each drive of the shovel. I nurture the soil with a root booster diluted with water. This may be the difference between thriving or fading. We gently pack the soil back in around the tiny tree, making sure it is secure. My husband waters the plant for the first time. I imagine each trickle as a tear for his first born son. I take the angel statue from a sympathy arrangement and give it a new home. Taking a step back, I wonder if there’s anything else we can do to help it weather the storms ahead. Was there anything else we should have done?

 

summer takes our breath

hope lies dormant under leaves

angel white in spring

 

 

Lillian hosts Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub. The theme is “new beginnings”.

Olive Eyes

 

in your eyes

I caught a glimpse

of an ocean, copper clouds

storm-ravished, heavy swells

hitting hard against weary shores

I think I saw you drowning

 

let me in

let. me. in.

to your guarded kingdom

we will set sail into the rage

ride waves as tall as troubles

to the brink where waters fall

you are not alone

 

 

I am your host for today’s Poetics at

dVerse Poets Pub

The theme is “EYES”. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

Nebulous

 

you did not vanish

lies lurk, thicker than air

your steps brushed clean

by a stranger

or stranger things

I live in the ground clouds

swinging blind

pecking on scraps of why

my pain, unnamed

but not void

I choke on hollow handfuls

of sympathy

traditional, medicinal

heartfelt, but not felt

and still I find you

a faint flicker in the fog

a single sparkle in the grass

tucked between the layers

                                                             of twilight’s painting

                                                             scarlet and saffron

you are there

I hope you see me

 

 

Written for dVerse Poets Pub OPEN LINK NIGHT.

Grace is our host. Link up one poem of your choice.

OpenLinkNight #276

 

 

       

 

 

Image: pixabay.com

Autumn Hush

 

It was an early phone call for a Saturday. My brother’s caller ID but not his voice. My mother forced words she could not yet comprehend herself. He was gone. I asked where he went.

 

moonbeams radiate

October sky remembers

flicker of fallen star

 

 

For Quadrille Monday at dVerse. Kim has offered us the word “early” for our 44 word poems. This prompt is open all week.

Too Late

Warning: language

 

I googled you today

you were gone

I was wrong

to think that time was infinite

it was only imminent

this cancer, “fucking cancer”

would escort you out

without waiting one zippin’ minute

for thoughts to collect

memories to reflect

on your beautiful face

 

 

 

Written for the Quadrille prompt that De is hosting this week at d’verse Poets Pub.  The given word is “zip”. Somehow I managed to incorporate it as I struggle with the loss of a childhood friend.

 

A Daughter’s Farewell

 

I set sail without you

Into seas of rebellion

Waving white flags

At pilfering pirates

On quests for

Golden hearts

There was no good-bye

It was assumed that

You were you and

I was I

 

The sea swelled and took you

And I cursed not the wind

But your timing as I was

Left pining for words

Tossed and turned

Lost and churned

Into the brine

There was no good-bye

It was assumed that

You were you and

I was I

 
Sharing this with Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub, in response to Abhra’s poetic prompt, “Unintended Farewells”.