I hear every noise and the house stirs
as he lies in bed. His door is shut
but I smell him on everything
he’s touched in the loft.
I listen to the sound of the house
as it breathes.
He allows minutes on his lap
each morning, pats my head
and brushes me away.
Then he is gone.
O how he forgets he’s mine.
He says he’s doing errands
but he forgets what’s important—
Me.
I go downstairs to check
on the others as they
sleep through the day.
I go upstairs and sit
on a box at the top
of the steps.
The room is an empty chamber.
Another morning,
Stormy gray lies,
Verification code 062480,
Method of payment,
Onerous office,
Forgotten,
Depressed/suppressed,
Collision warning!
Erring & errands,
Shopping for sanity,
Trembling triad,
Solo sunset,
Revised & deleted,
140,000+ miles,
275 poems,
Life, films, anti-humans,
Usually hard,
Orange King,
If Jefferson became Burr,
2mm, DVR the clubhouse,
Geeks inherit the earth,
Sales + senior,
Emailing Miock,
Texting mockery,
Dust, dirt, remote work,
Deported to Mars,
Arriving dead,
Appointment, agencies, locations,
Unremarkably dressed,
Will do,
Barely alive @ 5:15 AM,
Squealing grocery cart,
Monday miasma,
Pausing, freezing, crashing,
Bureaucratic blasphemy,
Problem: garbage,
The End begins,
A lurid mini-series,
Super-8, hooray!
Sunday—updated,
Made sadder,
Check Engine Light (aarrggghhh),
No refills,
Pitted windshield,
Obsessive recycled cyclones,
MacBook weeps,
Fiasco at night,
Discharged,
Digital snake oil,
Smitten spreadsheet,
Ignoble typos,
Nightmares in Midtown,
Select 0,
Chapter/s paused,
Deaden this promptly,
Lying biopics,
Naughty neologisms,
Flying, falling, exploding,
Cancelled lives,
Unresolved.
I hear the train in the distance
I still have some time
though it is getting shorter
Bought my ticket cost me a lot
The train whistle calls my name
It hasn't arrived when the conductor will
call all aboard and my ticket will be punched
I paid first class
I need to get some errands done
Good byes forgiveness and tears
a final hug it has been a long war
Battles filled with tears fears and laughter
The train whistle called my name
Now at the train station waiting
for the conductor to punch my ticket
for the train to take me home
Frank Black Blacharczyk
Doing Adult Things
Working long hours
House work
Solving everyone’s else’s problems
Too much drama
Coffee in the morning
Kids always hungry
Running errands
Calendar full
Late to work
Running red lights
Exhausted into the night
What's for dinner?
Always 5 o'clock somewhere
Adult beverage in hand
Always busy
Always behind with laundry
Everyone is always needy
No time for me
Cell phone ringing
One woman army
Please take me away
Need a long paid vacation
Never get a break
Life speeds by with work, errands, crisis
and then something huge pops up
It's so easy to settle into a busy numbness
and just pass the days at the speed of light
However if you tuck your head down and
just let life pass quickly, you may miss
the sweet moments that enrich life with
laughter, connection, and blessings
I have learned to keep my head up,
a smile on my face and be alert
to the daily blessings that life throws out
I stay aware and ready to catch them
The brother who once drank and dined with us
Now orders for swords to slay us
He allowed himself to be brainwashed
By the men whose skins are rarely scorched
For a few shillings, he has been purchased
Purchased morally, mentally , I fear even spiritually
Because his morals and emotions are tarnished
Tarnished and farmished from endlessly trying to please
Please the men who delight in the gnashing of our teeth
Running unending errands has periodically calloused his feet
The feet that once moved to rhythms of the drum we beat
The brother that never seized to dream ,
has now achieved all he craved
but instead of this making our faces beam
rather stressing us out ,making us bleed , forcing us to flee.
Remember brother , we never hate , we still know
That one day , the venom injected in you , will cease to flow,
Then you know, you become keen , on finding your way home
Oh our , far gone , missing.
morning’s whisper
a touch of sun
something outside murmurs
the touch of memory
love in spring
lost in autumn
solitude
a leaf turned red
falls
it’s monday
time to start again
a blank sheet
a time for poeming
and first drafts
i let lines speak
before i’m
interrupted by errands
later the job
and faceless people
in a long line
and unending demands
i take to the streets
for snippets of life
tires sing
i live for today
a friend at the bar
she pours me an iced tea
i don’t have to ask
i'll dance and sing
at nightfall perhaps
but now it is still
it's morning
it's a monday
a beginning
some people say
televisions flicker
the weekend’s
college football scores
for every loss a win
a brief, sweet conversation
with the bartender
she's been working here
since early this year
we brush hands
I met him accidentally
While on an errands run
Got into his space literally
With my hands heavily laden
And steadied me he did; tenderly
Looking up at my savior
Left me awestruck and dumbfounded
With my mouth as a dried up reservoir
Gazing up to him like one long retarded
As my heart beat with renewed vigor
The attraction was quick and fast
Like a wildfire it spread
In its snare and die we were cast
Effortlessly, tirelessly held
And to each other we held fast.
Running errands on a hot day,
a song comes on the car radio
With just a few opening notes,
I am transported back in time
The familiar notes and words
wrap around me and take me back
to a time and place that was simpler
when I was much younger
As I come back to the present,
I realized that my mind had gone
back in time, yet I was still
in my car at a traffic light.
The worst nadir in my young years
that brings me still to shed sad tears;
while I was pregnant- months to wait-
September, nineteen fifty-eight.
My new friend's child was six weeks old,
and for a while, left me to hold
and watch her for an hour or two
while she ran errands that were due.
I fed and rocked her sound to sleep;
with love, my arms around her keep.
When Mom returned, she quickly went;
no signs of heartache- felt or sent.
Come morning, we woke from a scream-
and thought perhaps, Mom had a dream!
But no! Such horror took our breath!
Her baby passed- classed as crib death!
I could not comfort my dear friend;
her miracle came to an end.
Just like myself, so filled with mirth-
she'd waited for the thrill of birth.
Now, sixty-five years since that day-
this hurt within won't go away.
Though from that base, we all did part-
still feel my friend's pain in my heart.
I was in a perfect gallery,
My journey could have been more weary.
I was on a trip full of unknown necessities,
I collected dirty obscurities.
I used to run the errands,
Massacre was another name for my commands.
I collected your nicknames,
They were too hasty for me to join such games.
I was in a neverland,
Worshipping you was never out of my hands.
I was on the unnamed surface,
Beneath that, you were merely a minimal face.
Your shadow was not justified by your choice,
Neverland was a home to me where you were my only voice.
Your courtesies were sometimes tiresome,
In your royal court, I was nothing but burdensome.
You do not walk on springs,
I long for you, not just because you are a living being!
You were the sole entity in that land,
Without you, it is nothing but a piece of sand!
So many numbers out there, but which ones do I choose
Twelve takes center stage, the day I joined the family tree
Seven, the time I rise and get ready for work, or just to go out and play
Four, a time to return home, or perhaps do some errands along the way
Nine the day I got married and a new journey began
Fourteen, Valentines Day, a night of love and romance to plan
Twenty -eight, the day my beautiful daughter entered the world to join me
Twenty-five Christmas Day, a festive time I am sure we all agree
And who could forget nine / eleven, that fateful day when terrorists had their way
Just think of all the numbers we have to deal with every single day
Without numbers, we would not be able to figure almost anything out
Just think of an election when they went to count the vote, finding a winner would always be in doubt
Several weeks in to this healing journey.
Grateful of course, there was no gurney..
Now waiting for these bones to knit.
It's challenging for me to quietly sit.
Wheeling around my condo floors,
the metal stripping's are loose once more.
My wheel chair clunks on the foyer tiles.
Some days my arms feel they've walked several miles..
I amble to my car with my walking stick, to run a few
errands lickity split.
I'm grateful for drive thru's, those places one
can just pull up to: drive thru pharmacy to pick up my meds,
drive thru star bucks to clear my head, of course the fast
food options too. May God bless the drive thru!!
Still striving hard not to succumb to my some days
emotional pendulum..
Five weeks down, five more to go, the healing process is
painfully slow.
Terrific tornadoes predicted
On guard
Trees tremble, leaves shake
Be safe
Phoebe fanfare inflamed
In tweets
Errands to run
Save them
Stillest darkness, imperceptible danger
Don’t be fooled
The weather map in ugly shades of red
Holding my breath
Shelter contains walls, floor, roof
Please stay
And windows and doors
Stay closed
Terrific tornadoes predicted
On guard
One day she left her house, feeling out of sorts
as if some premonition spoke to her.
It said to just stay home; to not go out.
No logic in this, though, could she infer.
She ran her errands, then bought groceries.
To her car she went, exiting the store.
Discombobulation hit! Something wasn’t right.
That feeling now she just could not ignore.
A handsome man approached her as she neared her car.
It seemed as if that guy came out of nowhere.
She saw his knife, then felt its menace at her back.
She looked around; the parking lot was bare.
Discomfort and confusion turned into grave fear.
Like acid in her throat, great dread was rising.
Bound and gagged, how she wished she’d listened
to her instinct! Sadly, her fate was not surprising.
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