In November's chill on Rana Mohal's lane,
She showed me a shawl, dreams to attain,
Her last wish lingered, a poignant refrain,
But with 125 rupees, my hands feel restrained.
COVID's cruel grasp in GMC Doda's embrace,
Snatched her away, leaving an empty space,
Two cherished shirts I sold with a heavy heart,
To honor her wish, a fragile start.
Wrapped in that shawl, morning's pale light,
Clings to my half-dead soul's fading sight,
I breathe, yet the question echoes, unkind,
Why persist in this world, a heart confined?
Her love lingers, a tranquil sleep's embrace,
But my nights echo, devoid of solace or grace,
No one to rouse, no gentle voice to say,
"Kya kar ra ho?" in each lonely day.
I exist in the shadows of memories past,
Aching to make each moment last,
Yet her absence weighs, a burden I bear,
In a world devoid of her tender care.
In this solitary existence, I strive to survive,
Aching heart, wounded, yet somehow alive,
But in every breath, in each moment's glow,
I carry her wish, her love, her enduring glow.
Categories:
gmc, anxiety, for him, future,
Form: Rhyme
I riffle through memories of days gone
Like a junkyard of photo boxes
When viewing the past again sees the dawn
Of course, my favorite time it surely must be
Living in my GMC van conversion
Just my big Chesapeake dog, Cody and me
Gave up the rent and then gave up the job
Pursued a life of the struggled artist
Wanted to do what makes my heart throb
See new mountains and see new skies
Every night a new front door
See the world through different eyes
Expand my wings with my artists hands
New teachers mold a seeking mind
Make new friends across the wander lands
Those happy days with my very best friend
From Alaska to the New Mexico dirt
Excited as we looked around each wide bend
My dog and I lived the miles for 3 years and awhile
Hiked winding trails and swam the lakes
Many memories we happily made with our style
written: 10-5-2019
Categories:
gmc, adventure, art, dog, travel,
Form: Rhyme
PS MS US BS
AJ DJ OJ PJ
ER OR HR PR
JD MD OD VD
CBA DBA MBA NBA
AC BC DC JC
KC MC PC WC
BP DP KP TP
MP PP VP XP
BB CB OB TB
AM FM GM PM
A&M F&M M&M S&M
AJ BJ DJ JJ
KJ OJ PJ TJ
CTA MTA PTA RTA
APR CPR NPR R&R
CDT DDT EDT PDT
AMC FMC GMC PMC
ABC BBC NBC SBC
AC BC DC JC
FSU LSU MSU OSU
ASU BSU CSU ISU
MA ME MI MO
MN MS MK MJ!
Categories:
gmc, nonsense, word play,
Form: I do not know?
A macabre garden
rank with smell of green moss.
Silent mouths murmur nothing
as visitors snap and click
awed in reverence of the raven poet.
The Old Western Burial Ground
Greene and Fayette Streets in Baltimore
a rotten Poe rests here
his beloved decayed Virginia.
Bone to bones on bones timber in mute darkness.
Nissans and GMC trucks
vibrate their eternal slumber
lying beneath city stories of noise
like fossils from the carriage age.
Does any life still whimper in the din?
Can we say it is a lovely graveyard?
Do we admire sentinels to the mournful torture of fate
pain, dying, life, calling them
historic to cherish forever?
Forever is each night
as nearby
homeless lie sleeping
on sidewalks.
2/28/18
Categories:
gmc, death, grave, , western,
Form: Free verse
He drops the tailgate on that old GMC truck
using it as a makeshift workbench
He tinkers with an old icemaker
determined to bring it back to it's former glory
He whistles an old country tune as he works with contentment
His screwdriver slips and the melody is broken
He cusses out loud as his knuckle begins to bleed
Frustration grows as he uses his shirttail to wipe the blood,
holding pressure on his hand with pure impatience,
his eyes fixed on the old appliance in pieces
The aroma of supper cooking
makes it's way outside through the raised windows of the old white house
He decides to give it up but only until tomorrow
His concentration is broken
and his mind is now on fried potatoes and onions
As he wipes his hands on an old shop rag he counts his blessings
They are abundant
Categories:
gmc, blessing, culture, family, freedom,
Form: Free verse