- Those who know me well know that I have resisted getting a cell phone for all these years
- except for a brief tryst with a flip phone between ’06-’08
- I have a new friend who is quickly becoming like one of the family who says it is not safe for me not to have a phone with the cars I drive, old and rusting away as they are
- I say it is a luxury
- a nuisance
- but she is right. One car is a ’94 and one is a ’99.
- They make some of the same noises my knees make on stairs.
- So that’s that.
Pacing at the window while the clock ticks in disbelief
Every hour today is wrap’t up in my irreverent grief.
Pointed fingers say it is my choosing and I take my penance
Our two languages have robbed us of our romance like a thief.
Agendas were voted on and no one else could be deemed errant
Watching twenty years drop one by one like an October leaf.
Outside I hear the robin’s and the bluejay’s raucous discontent
‘Twould be arrogant to view their passing as more than merely brief.
Oh Rose, you have done yourself in by worry’s cunning snares
All your cares now laid upon pillows of music and belief.
I dislike epilogues, or explanation of any kind accompanying poetry. But, this poem is a long time coming, and promised to Uma at One Grain Amongst the Storm . I read and enjoy his ghazal poems, a form in which I have wanted to try for some time, with only confidence holding me back. Like the haiku, the ghazal comes with a respected history, of which I would not want to disrespect with poor lines.
All that to say, here is my version of an English Ghazal. Thank you
She sews the pieces together
with every corner that is not square.
Wanting to please her grandmother
that Heaven’s floor
is not transparent.
to try to make amends
like the perfect last note
subduing desire to linger
I turn my head
and I have written
far into the night;
oh my soul
when I close my life
may I still find thee near me–
How come we say
that time passes too slowly?
when we all know
it slips out of our grip
way too fast–
I didn’t pay attention
while time has rambled on–
and I remember (don’t forget)
the old times (don’t forget)
I remember some good times
( they weren’t all bad)
and I remember some very bad times
(but they weren’t all bad)
Birthday’s just a day
and today it is your turn
to be man of the day
little boy with a deck of cards
and a magic wand, grown up
come on little brother
show me some magic
’cause I’m feeling tired–
Then let’s toast to the days coming
the ones we look forward to
and the ones that will lead to eternity–
there are many smiles left
daydreams of your reflections–
the golden faces looking up to you
for some good old days.
Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Luke 12:6-7 NIV
- I am going to say this right out, right now: I am uncomfortable with complete silence
- The reasons for this are varied, but most come from childhood and are fairly evident by poetry regarding the same. Rephrased: enough said about that.
- This week I was under the weather, mostly I think from allowing myself to become rundown
- Plus after a particularly rough patch, I followed it with a great deal of sugary snacks, which we all have come to know are poison.
- I did not go to the doctor, but I did doctor myself with water, vegetables, fruit, vitamins, sunshine, and colloidal silver
- and sleep, which I am still working on.
- I just can’t get enough, but I am trying
the birds are early
they must know something
besides the dark
how peaceful to listen
to know God hears
every lonely chirp
from my heart
feels like summer here
sweating all our regrets
drinking gallons of hope
I am in the kitchen writing out my life
Chopin is in the living room, urging me not to quit
the sadness (over breakfast) and a hurried car ride
heavy and burdensome
I don’t care (I said) because of course
I care more than life itself
but if I have to give up my life
in the process (I don’t care)
Then what is the purpose of living
this strangling, overarching plot
that no one would buy
is dancing in my last nerve
So it is like this. That you will
treat me kindly in the future
and I will continue to write my life
both wonderful and terrible, and
this is the contract I bid you sign
Sing me to sleep
The night is hard
press’d to give up
you went too soon
I want to hear you
you used to tell
I knew you were happiest
when you were a little girl
traveling state to state
in a time when
girls didn’t give up dolls
For you I would have tea
so we could share
iced, with chips
laughs again over
he never understood
but I always laughed
Laughs come at a premium now
your unbounded joy
something I got for free