After Words – Quadrille

These conversations of ours

It feels like you are forever in my presence

moreso than when you walked the earth

So agreeable, and still with the jokes

Don’t you have somewhere else to be?

What type of grieving is this?

– these conversations of ours

Pat

8/08/2022

For dVerse Poets Pub where the host, De, gives the word Type to be used in a quadrille (a 44 word poem created at dVerse). To participate or just read, go here

Another One!!

Another one! We are, yet again, undone. The only thing that seems to come out of these tragedies are the usual talking heads pretentiously wallowing in their fifteen minutes of fame.

The hands deep in their pockets also move the trap between their beady little eyes as they mouth platitudes and lamentations in the form of thoughts and prayers. All of which has become white noise because power takes precedent.

So, we continue to live under sinister skies raining death with nowhere to hide. Hoards of lost souls that will never again see morning. They  will never again set eyes on arcs of grass bejeweled by dew reflecting twilight. 

It is up to us to erase the platitudes and become a part of the solution. The way we do this is with our vote! These are the things they don’t tell us often enough.

Vote!

Pat

6/06/2022

For dVerse Poets Pub being hosted by Msjadeli where the topic is “How many will it take” as it relates to gun violence and mass shootings. To participate or just read go here.

New Journey

on occasion she asks
to be taken over there
and thrown over

no indication as to where ‘there’ is
she just wants to be done with life

at times she would grab my hand and point with a huge smile

a finger to her lips, hushing me
she was listening as though she was a part of a conversation
and was trying to pull me in

I was to find out later this gathering included her mom, sister, nephew, my dad and some little girl she can never name

all are long dead

too bad I am not able to say
with any certainty that
I see dead people

Pat
5/25/21

For dVerse Poets where Mish is hosting and we’re using Movie quotes in a poem. I used
“I see dead people.” – The Sixth Sense, 1999 –

The join in or just read go here

Conversations

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She came to visit on a peaceful saturday evening. Meandering conversations about everyday things, morphed into events of childhood and upbringing.

The traumas and dramas, the love and conflicts. Families and their decisions made out of love, that is truly misunderstood by the young minds they were meant to  shield.
 
Then came reflections on this life changing sorrow. There are moments caught between heart-beats, that goes the way of time. There is no changing it. There is no revisiting it And its one true quality is that it is everlasting.

This was one of those moments. After the revelation it just hung in the air.

a mother’s grief –
in remembrance
through decades, she kept
the last T-shirt he wore,
bullet hole intact

Pat R

2/16/20

For dVerse Poets Pub where Kim is hosting and the phrase to be incorporated in the response is
” There are moments caught between heart-beats”

Journey Ends

Muddled message
A memory here, a thought there
The very unexpected reference
by the most unlikely aquaintance
Your unmistakable energy
set out in the universe
Telepathy by unusual means
A fluffy white feathers delicate landing
on my windshield
A final message
A journey ends

Pat R

5/08/18

For Quadrille ( a 44 word poem) night at dVerse Poets Pub with the use of the word Muddle

Quadrille #56 – Muddle up that Muse

Last Day

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cloud of crows
blacken winter sky –
his last day

2

huge cloud of ravens
has blacken late winter sky –
ashes to ashes

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Pat R

1/27/18

For Frank Tassone  Weekly Haikai Challenge

&

Weekly Photo Challenge: Variations on a Theme

 

A Remembrance

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It is an odd thing indeed
No anniversary words
No celebratory ones either
No collective remembering
No mourning
Not out loud, at least

Though we do not speak of him
He makes his presence felt
I find myself speaking to him
Recalling some event with him
As if he was still right there

The feeling that I bumped him
With the refrigerator door
He’s following me too closely in the kitchen
My sudden yen for liver and fry dumplings
Followed by my words, “remember how you used to like liver and fry dumplings”
Then I caught myself,
remembering that he’s not here

Maybe this thing I’m feeling
that nobody is speaking
Is really not the case
Maybe you just come and go
Stepping in and out of demensions
Conversing, poking individual memories
Which is rememberance just the same

A stout micropoem for myself for Thotpurge Micropoetry Month