"Life is a journey with both good and bad along the way." By Poet
My dad has been gone for many years,
making it time to clean out his belongings.
I remember his war stories as a young child,
they were better then reading books.
Each word would come to life,
as his stories went on and on.
Telling about his men almost starving,
and how the farmers fed and hid them.
Here in a box what did I just find?
Love letters to mom in old torn envelopes.
What is this thingamajig?
It looks like a writing pen but it will not write.
Did you know pens in those days needed to be ink filled?
Imagine that!
They filled their pens with ink before they would write.
Today we still have writing pens,
most come ink filled and ready to write,
some are disposable pens.
None will be as cherished as this old one,
knowing ink flowed over his journal and love letters.
When I clean out the corners
and smooth off the edges
All muses desert me
— the magic is gone
***
The Rapids
Adrift
in the words
Lost
to your smile
Caught
in the rapids
Love’s
— turbulent child
(The New Room: May, 2026)
Christmas was over the horizon.
I was working and attending college classes.
Not easy at the age of forty-four, but I was determined.
A close relative passed, and I had to clean out their house.
The kitchen needed painting, so I did that too.
I was nearly exhausted after two days of this.
Another relative decided to come visit me two days early.
She followed my car the two hours home, and pushed in.
All I wanted was a nap.
Instead, I was cooking and baking and cleaning for two guests.
One complained because there were plants in my downstairs shower.
Remember, I had no idea they were coming two days early.
By Christmas morning I was so stressed, I was wheezing.
I had to go to Urgent Care; I had upper respiratory infection.
The bill was not paid by insurance, since it was double the usual charge.
My guests did not leave for another day; worst Christmas ever.
Today, I gave my last heart away to a man whom makes me afraid
He’d kill me if I left but I’ll die if I stay
My eyes sting because they’ve wept
I’m weary and haven’t slept
We argue, scratch, and bite
Yet, he expects me to love him with all my might
If I ever loved again, he would be my last
Because I’m overwhelmed and losing patience fast
My love has been slammed and jammed in the door
And after he hits me, he expects me to love him more
But my heart heals slower than my cracked jaw
Why has life dealt me such a hand so raw?
The very hands that held me try to steal my breath
Instead of seeing love in his eyes, all I can see is death
I am clean out of hearts, yet glad to be alive
In this game of love, only the strongest survive
For the first time
in two months...
I closed the door,
summer is fading
into the crispness of fall.
Flower blossoms are poor,
yet production is rich,
creating seed
for spring's progeneration.
Leaves begin trading
their summer attire
for the season's new color,
as I clean out the hearth
for a cozy night's fire.
Into the sunset, I sailed away
On a pink bottomed cloud, at the end of the day.
Traveling light, my load left behind
In search of tomorrow, as I slowly unwind.
From pink, to red and then to black
How quick the mind can travel back
My cloud had sailed clean out of sight
And there I sat, alone at night.
The moon appeared, the stars came out
Dark shadows seem to creep about,
I found a star and zeroed in
And just like that, I was gone again.
Daniel Turner
I've made up my mind.
I'm going to clean out the attic today.
Leaving nothing but cobwebs behind...
Photos of people without names
Car seats -chrome tables - baby rattles
Dented pots and pans
Rubber snakes.
A guitar that never made it past 5th grade.
Silent notes whisper in broken glass tones.
Melodies forever stuck in the clay.
It's all just excess anyway.
Things of past importance.
Scattered into cardboard boxes of chaos.
Of those never remembered and the long forgotten.
To the curb nostalgia will go.
The garbage truck offers a garbled eulogy.
To a couple of strutting crows in the gallery
Weary Is My Mind
I promise, I swear, I will never, I will always
That blaring sentiment of a pattering ghost that I detest
Among the empty hollowing of her mouth and eyelids
There lies darkness deep and unending that I fell into once,
never again.
Baffled and naked, afraid and convinced I was nearing my hearse
She runs screaming, yelping in madness as her body falls dead
Once I thought I knew, but as fate would incline
The truth would be only a weapon and shield–vulnerable. . .
never again.
The prating sound squawks as death marks before her squalid breathy voice
Her pupils' contract like a viper’s hint at prey, pouncing, and then devouring
The blood is left spattering and spurting among my grey, hollow walls
Only her wedded can clean out the muck as I have given up,
never again.
Coiling around me with her slippery scales, the precipice of my demise
The sword and the shield once though best, were only cardboard copies
My soul is shattered, and my will is blank, giving into her sweet, nectary venom
The forefront of my being is gone. . . crushed under a blanket of rue
For Weary Is My Mind
I could do the dishes
But then what would I do tomorrow? Asked toad
Frog did not want to distress or alarm him.
He listened.
I could sweep the junk off the kitchen floor.
But you would be bored tomorrow, right? Asked Frog.
Toad rolled his eyes at him and said nothing.
Frog wondered about this, but dared not ask a question.
I could clean out that silverware drawer, Toad said.
He gave frog a sly look.
Frog had played this game with toad before.
He knew from experience, that he usually lost.
So, he went home.
I am a collector of worthless things
How they pile up I have no inkling
I clean out my junk drawer at two o’clock
It is crammed full of extra things by two fifteen.
Do others have this problem?
What solution have you found?
Would it work for me?
Bear in mind I refuse to throw away anything
And a husband who stuffs all his extra stuff into drawers.
As shadows laid where none could go,
The dark sky etched fear in a scrawl,
Making hearts leap clean out of sight,
Silhouettes of danger scared all.
A gentle breeze whispered of fright,
Meanwhile, death crept with aching flow.
The silence then started to scream,
The fear shifted to my bladder,
My trousers bore a stinking stench;
The quake of shame made me sadder.
The fire of fear failed to quench;
That nightmare failed to be a dream.
To the angels my spirit pled.
The birds watched my fret from the trees;
Their silhouettes loomed in the night.
My shirt soaked in sweat’s chilling breeze.
The devil ignored my soul's plight;
He let me go when my soul fled.
Far to heaven’s gates my wings flew,
There, songs of praise the angels sang.
Fear quivered and fled from their glow,
The bell of life they softly rang.
That made me cheat death here below.
Then back to the earth my soul blew.
We wander in the smoke
Of the fires we never should have fought
But we thought we knew
A thing or two, about calamity
Having burned the world around us
So many times for such small reasons
That when the rains came
Like a transcendent ritual
To clean out the sky
Of the cinders of our sins
You’d think that would have been enough
Of a miracle to rehydrate
Our choking spirits
But maybe we were meant to burn
In the unexpected beauty
Of these Armageddon sunsets
Full of imbalance and entropy
Where the dead wood of you and me
Needs the lightning
And the imagined ending of everything
To find a place
To let the green things grow
The Sky
The sky should give off a
unique smell that tells us
when to
clean out
long overdue unwanted items in
our drawers.
Special drink
All frothy green and pink
Only cost ten dollars
Cheap don't you think
Three or four a day if I had my way
Can someone drive me to the store
I just need one more
Momma said, "What's in this drink?
Does it have something special?
It sure does stink!"
Oh its very special
Nothing but goodies inside
Momma said, "Can you make one for me?"
Oh sure
Let me see what you have that's fresh and alive
Spinach and tomatoes
Rye and beets
Pickles and kale
Should be in the drink
Grind in the blender
Till bubbly and tender
Makes a wonderful drink
You will remember
Momma said," You can have that drink.
Don't forget to clean out the sink!"
She fooled me again
When will it end
Now I have to make my own special drink
It's not the same
I even have to make it for friends
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