A Choice of Colors
For Mom 2024
It is a conspiracy of years
that pulls down the leaves
dries the creek beds
blackens a leg.
It must be cheerfully
countenanced
but the fear and rage
overwhelms.
Only when an ending
is better than
the next minute or two
does the last faltering step
become the bravest one
we will take.
Categories:
countenanced, death, mother son,
Form: Free verse
a scant mere
seconds to late, when with a crash, which near
concussion smacked noggin
hard against blocky chunk hove ice
informing gap toothed email
(actually, that incident
me quite traumatized),
i.e. unpreparedly tasting solid rock hard material -
with ugly reflection that didst stare
from a looking glass re: mirror,
which aye avoided at all possible costs where
to cast and fit mouth
with a provisional crown entailed maybe a year.
necessitating cupped gloved hands
to punctuate every muffled word
to be but barely heard
akin to talking with mouth full of custard
above the quiet riotous mirth
analogous to twittering bird
winning sympathy from parents,
who did level best to tend distraught son
who ushered playback of events
with less disastrous rerun
praying for a high lee angel
to grant reverse outcome brought none
gut wrenching grief
immediately terminated former fun
damage irreversible
and perfect smile of pearly white
forever broke
NOT the least itty bitty funny, comical,
nor countenanced devastation done.
Categories:
countenanced, age, angst, bereavement, depression,
Form: Free verse
He rapt his thoughts
In a tone of utter solemnity
Reverent disgust veiled
The icy wasteland of his soul
Seized with doubt
His emaciated lust- the empty mirage
Of his forgotten manhood
Countenanced immodesty
An extension of natural law
Plucked from tender bosom
Leaving this prodigal sweetheart
’twixt searing blaze of shameless prurience
Here they came in leaps and bounds
Clad in flames of destruction
To gobble solace paramount
Bringing pungent odour of uncouthness
This unmarried hermit
Took pleasure in worldly jubilation
Defied childhood admonition
That infamy seeds its own immolation
He was not to buttress his memory
On whimpers of bleeding hearts
Nor on the flooded gutter of spiritualism:
Only the endowments of heart… only these.
Categories:
countenanced, heart,
Form: Free verse