When you put on your coat
and light a smoke
on the front stoop, December
gusts tear into you. But
that drag rides all the way
down as you shut your lids.
A hat like your dad
wore when he thrummed
his bass at the clubs, skitters
down the street, no one
to chase and bring it back.
For the first time you notice
a distant train bellowing
like a bull past consolation.
A man in his 20’s wanders
under a streetlamp, snuffling
now unmistakable. You offer
your handkerchief
but the wind is fierce
and deafening. The night enfolds
him like an endless black
curtain. You barely make
out the whimper you follow
for blocks, until you find
a spaniel too afflicted
to stand. Why is tonight
different? Saturday or Wednesday
you’d have returned home.
But now, at 10:37, something
rough bruises your chest.
You remove your jacket
and wrap him delicately, singing
in a whisper. You bend
to kiss his sloppy snout.
Now something turns
your bones to light.
A Distance — not of Miles —
But of the Shifting Air —
A Quiet that replaced the Tongue
We once were proud to wear —
A Frost came in the Noon —
And laid its Silver Thread —
Between the Pulse that answered Yours
And Mine — in disrepair —
No Thunder ever spoke —
So softly — as you leave —
Yet every Petticoat of Wind
Reminds me how to grieve —
Estrangement is a Room —
With Windows — shuttered tight —
Where Love still moves — a Ghostly Guest —
And will — beyond the Night.
In this fading time at life’s end
I am at a loss on the motives of men
All the problems I have ever met
Have only really ever come from them
Never from any animal, sunrise or sunset
Neither from trees nor bees nor flowers
Nor swirling sands nor an overflowing river
Nor any kind of storm nor summer shower
Has caused me grief or made my heart quiver
Or overcome my understanding or my will
As those actions of mean-spirited men unstill.
No forest moves nor sea waves pound
To tear me from my holy ground
Only men divided in themselves from God estranged
Have required miracles to keep my mind still and tamed
Anchored in body, empowered in the Divine and sane
Someone slowly makes a move
Somewhere in the night
A light switch, a lighter
Some razor blade laughter
Making someone alright
For an hour or maybe two
Any more, you’re getting greedy
Drive her home in the morning
Any more, you’re getting needy
And who’s got time
For that in their life?
The dark bishops dismay
At this bleak array
Of black pawns hiding
Just out of sight
Oh I tried and I tried to let them know
But they hear what they want to hear
And they see what they want to see
And they stare in my general direction
But see anything but me
I will go gentle into that good light now
I will exit stage right
Who needs another to believe in
When the lid is shutting tight
I run and I dance, around and behind,
picking up the golden pieces that fall.
Chunk of heart here, a bit of soul no mind,
shedding your glory, constructing a wall.
I follow, needle and thread in my care,
trying to mend you to stop my dreading.
You keep popping back open, quickly wear,
like that old teddy bear you keep shredding.
For I am just stitching crumbling coal.
Daughter are you even mine to repair?
My ship a vessel to nourish your soul.
I feed you with love God gave me to wear.
For I leave my spirit gaping with holes.
I’m threading your heart and stabbing my soul.
She seeks her enlightenment with hunger like a wolf
Trapped in a sacred bubble shrinking with licked wounds
Pushing out the people once vital now twice pierced
With the absence of the presence and the love now just a breadth
Of the time she spent asking mother am I empty?
Fill my spirit forthright with the love I thought I dreamt
For this life is temporary and the time is scarce
And all I dare to do is take your eyes and gouge
Trying to remove your truth and glean mine obliged
You will not waver and even blind I feel the warmth
I will stop you with my fear and my anger and my prompts
How dare you love me wrongly as we live in different worlds
Mother do you love me; are you gone and now an angel?
I am never gone my dear though you thought me a monster
.Past the estrangements
Witnessing profuse isolation
Fidgety deep the listless eyes
Conjures up hallucinations
Suffering the incagement
Dreams of touching the skies
Tainted sphere
Smothering her hopes
She breathes in poisoned air
Much like gloomy saprobes
Mistful lashes
Memory on flashes
Fabricated smile
Loaded on heart so fragile
Fails to hide the bedlam
Regret clustered in lump
Can't help but succumb
Yet she dreams high
In ambiguous sigh
Sunday eventide on the slope of the
fire-hued mountain,
owls take flight from the pine boughs,
I'm sitting by an open window,
peace of writing in the night.
Hunter's moon, so settled on the ridge
and brightly goldenrod,
the young days of autumn's presence,
sipping cinnamon hot cider,
baying hounds in the smoky valley,
songbird's evening vow of silence.
Penning of bygone friendships,
and gained faith in Christ.
Harvest of bittersweet recollections,
surviving parent,
of thirty-one years since I last
saw my mother,
of loving words not spoken.
Wishing to have been missed.
A childhood image so mellow,
of leaping as a six year old with
cold-reddened cheeks into a tall
mound of blushed leaves,
parting my lips to a smile-
peace of writing in the night. ~
girl weeps through the night,
her love gone to distant lands,
danger's silent threat.
girl's tears merge with rain,
lost love in a distant land,
heartache's gentle bath.
in her dream, he's near,
lover's steps, she stirs, yawns soft,
Love's presence brings warmth.
LOOKING IN
Morning,
Awake yes,
Alive, on the fringe,
The dream again,
The image isn’t mysterious,
I’ve been excluded,
His life isn’t inclusive,
I peer in a widow pane,
Looking for him,
My home is vacant,
As is my heart,
But sharing the house,
As if different dimensions,
Moving past him,
He past me,
We are passing ghost,
Once vibrant love,
I longed for him,
Until we reunited,
Now it’s not so,
You don’t miss the unseen,
The un-felt,
You can’t bury a remembrance,
A grave rejects such,
You can’t run either,
He so fills your being,
We grew simultaneously,
Each part of the other,
Can you leave your identity,
Would you,
I don’t see happiness,
In a new beginning,
only this loneliness,
My forever companion,
So I remain,
Floating and looking in,
The widow pane,
Of a life that is no more.
By Jim Kirk-Wiggins (c) All rights reserved
Poem written from picture prompt
Photo Challenge and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie #301 Wordpress Blog
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