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.

Upheaval – Quadrille

Mass upheaval

A new madness on the march

intent on a deadly swath across the land.

Flexing power, thought long gone.

Terror now reins

unsettling time and space

Stuffing all through the eyes of this unforgiving storm

I wait, with tentative hopes for spring

Pat

3/8/22

For quadrille (a 44wordpoem) night over at dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt offered was “Eye”. Björn is hosting. To part take, or just read go here

Grit

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

Cherish

I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.

Even for those immeasurably flawed.

I know enough of the world to recognize I know nothing about why I am.

The inkling that flits through my consciousness from time to time says that cherishing the next breath, is the only moment of any consequence.

Worldly goods are just that..worldly.

They will still be such way after my time has come, and the worms are having their way with me.

Or, if I were bold enough, long after I’ve been scattered to the wind.

Pat

3/17/21

For dVerse Poets Pub where Merril is hosting and the prompt is to include the lines below in a piece of prose.

“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.”
— Wisława Szymborska, “Possibilities”

For further reading of other entries it to participate go here

Prosery: Possibilities

Stories

Like most homes with kids, bedtime meant stories. In our house, it was tall tales and ghost stories told by my dad.

Learning how to cast shadow puppets against the wall, and tales of shooting and twinkling stars were my favorites. Especially if we had just seen it from the varandah before bedtime. Then, there were the magical tales of the moon. Always the moon.

Ellie and Portia always wanted to know why did the cow jump over the moon? Also, what was the man in the moon doing while this was happening? To this my dad always had an answer, a different one everytime, and more fantastical than the last. Ellie and Portia would get really quiet. Those two – “…In their dreams they sleep with the moon… “

Pat R


9/15/20

For Prosery Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub hosted by Merril where the rule is to use this line in your prose, no alterations, in no more that 144 words.

“In their dreams
they sleep with the moon.”–From Mary Oliver, “Death at Wind River”

To read and participate go here

Morning Revelry

morning dew sparkle on blades of grass

wild bunny rabbits

and bouncy baby squirrels

dart across the open meadow –

the magic of morning revelry

Pat R

7/29/20

A Gogyohka for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt “Magic”.

To read more about it or participate go here

Eugi’s Weekly Prompt “Magic” July 27, 2020

Renewal

img_20200409_181926The pear tree in the front yard is pretty close to the second floor porch. So we get to witness a bit of nature up close. The pace at which nubby buds change to to delicate blossoms is so interesting to watch. So we are blessed with having blooms, and pears within arms length.

An even more fun bonus of this proximity is being able to keep company with the visiting birds, bees and butterflies. So amidst this upheaval nature marches on, creating this space of respite.

in search of renewal
I bury my head
in the captivating blooms
of the pear tree –
a lone sparrow joins me

Pat R

4/07/20

For Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge

Pass by to do some reading or participate here

&

For Eugi’s Weekly Prompt where the prompt word is

“Captivating”

Pass by to do some reading or participate here

 

“I Love You”s

img_20200301_151305She is not one to say it often. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe she doesn’t know how, never learned how. Maybe she’s just not good at it.

My mom has been on her own, for the most part since she was thirteen. Her mom died one morning as she was readying her daughters for school.
I’m thinking since then, she has had issues with god / creator for letting such a catastrope befall her and her younger sister.

Some things trickle down, whether it was meant to or not.

I am no good at love. Most times leave me feeling like a lunatic, if not acting like one.

But, I keep an open heart. Even so, “I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended.” I guess in a cock-eyed sorta of way, I believe in love.

Pat R

3/17/20

Over at dVerse Poets Pub the prompt is to write prose (keeping it tight at no more than 144 words) and to include the line below:-
“I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended.”

https://dversepoets.com/2020/03/16/prosery-surprised-or-not/

Feather Pen/Quill

deep longing
set forth in prose-
a feather pen

2
by light of candle
the swirl of a feather pen
sweet prose of longing

3

 ink stained fingers
thoughts making their way through quill
bits of poetry

Pat R

10/30/16

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com/2016/10/carpe-diem-1081-feather-pen-or-quill-pen.html?m=1

&

Lavish – #DailyHaikuChallenge