
melting into your kiss –
a recurring memory I hang onto
to keep me sane
to say goodbye
to move on
Pat
2/21/23
For poetics over at dVerse where Kim is hosting and we’re talking ‘kisses’. To participate or just read go here.
melting into your kiss –
a recurring memory I hang onto
to keep me sane
to say goodbye
to move on
Pat
2/21/23
For poetics over at dVerse where Kim is hosting and we’re talking ‘kisses’. To participate or just read go here.
This pink flower is the heather. It beams from the clutter of a garden still under the spell of winter. Each year it gets stouter, more portly. It starts flowering in November or December. I am surprised every time. I wonder how such dainty looking blooms survive such cold. Grit, I suppose.
Next to the heather is the coneflower. That too tends to want to spread out. Only, it wakes up much later. It is always interesting to watch these two jossle.
That side of the garden is ‘survival of the fittest territory’. I am taking lessons and aligning myself with their determination and grit. As such, I am squeezing you out of my thought process. This gift you came to appreciate way too late will no longer swim in thoughts of you! This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.
Pat
2/14/23
For prosery Monday over at dVerse where Merril is hosting and the prompt is to incorporate the following lines into the prose
“This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.”
from Charlotte Mew, “I so liked Spring”
Go here to participate or just read
now, a toast
to words unspoken!
may forgiveness
be a part
of their new DNA
as they rest in peace.
Pat
9/14/22
under blue gray skies
as twilight takes its leave
and day tumbles into night
a crow flies across a sliver of a moon –
I am lost in thoughts of you…
and our moon gazing nights
Pat
2/09/22
thriving still
amidst autumns chill
a rose thrills
Pat
Ida is an old soul and the fiercest person I know. She was blessed with an abundance of that ‘no nonsense and why the hell not’, attitude.
Conversations this time had awakened deep feelings.
What must it be like going somewhere, and not know that feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb. Or, not having to endure the stares and the under- their- breaths mutterings.
Such feelings were never really shared out loud, they didn’t have to. They knew, being in the skin they were in. Ida too, had experienced this. On one occasion she was heard to say,
‘I didn’t know I was black till I came to America’. She would not elaborate.
But this too she tackled this with her attitude of “no, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife*.” This attitude had served her well; and serves her still.
Pat
7/20/21
*Zora Neale Hurston
I never could see my life without him
But there stood this broken trust
Shoving past all that I had come to know would only lead to regrets piled atop regrets –
never again feeling safe
As great as this love was
I knew me
It would not end well
So, I let it go in the most awful way
Never to see, or speak to him for ever
Time is not always the healer
she purports to be
Years later when we could again speak
He asked.
I explained.
That was not about you, I said.
That was about keeping that thread I was hanging by intact.
Pat R
6/22/21
Isn’t it pretty to think so.
–The Sun Also Rises (1926). Ernest Hemingway
Over at dVerse we are to write a poem based on a chosen quote from Hemingways work. I chose the above.
Linking to dVerse Poets Pub where Lisa is hosting Poetics -“One true sentence” . To read other entries go here
“We were talking a while ago” , her eyes searched my face.
“About papa”, I said. She had asked me where he was. I said he wasn’t here just now.
“Yes”, she nodded. and smiled, her chain of thought had reconnected.
“I loved him so much” , she said. “He was always in my corner. He would fight for me”.
Those words had never crossed her lips before. At least, never in my presence.
“I’ve never heard you say that before”, I said. “You’ve only always talked about what a pain in the ass he was” I said, as those words left me, it felt like a reflex action.
“You both were a pain in the ass to each other”, I quickly interjected. as a correction. I am shocked to hear there was love there.
“He did tell me that he loved you” , she seemed as surprised to hear it, just as I was way back when he said it.
In all the years I’ve been on this earth, all I’ve ever seen between these two was fighting. At times, it felt like they were fighting to the death. In my young mind I wondered what would happen to me and my sisters and brother if one of them killed the other.
Now here she sits, in a confused state laced with moments of clarity, professing her love for my father who no longer among the living. I didn’t have the heart to tell her this earlier, today of all days. It was Fathers Day. And she was treading the waters of unfinished business.
Pat
6/20/21
I keep you
deep in my heart
you waltzed in
curled up
and never left
ever so often
I find myself hiding you
in my poetry
yes – I do keep you
deep in my heart
Pat
4/08/21
For dVerse Poets Pub where Grace is hosting and the prompt is body parts as metaphors To read or join in go here
This human being is a salty soul
Anything adversarial was always
just a blip to be dealt with
There was no time for foolishness
because she had four children to
feed, educate and school in
manners
Her moves were well thought out
and always deeply rooted in hope
Yes, this ‘every woman’,
this human being is a salty soul.
(For my Mom)
Pat
3/17/21
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