Long These days Poems
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Mother
I called her on the phone today,
she answered, said hello.
I told her that I loved her
and I wanted her to know.
Things are going great these days
I'm out here by the sea.
She told me that she loves me too,
she often thinks of me.
We spoke of things from days gone by
we spoke about the sorrow.
She asked me just to promise her
if the sun comes up tomorrow.
Remembered ways of yesterdays
as we talked on the phone.
She said this year at Christmas.
Please don't be alone.
Don't do the things you used to do
and thank God up above you.
Promise me you'll smile awhile
and let somebody love you.
I listened in the silence
as teardrops filled my eyes.
I sent a prayer to heaven,
don't let her hear my cries.
I made the promise that she asked
I love her like no other.
I called her on the phone today
to say I love you, mother.
Edwin C Hofert
have many demons
for all kinds of reasons
they stay locked up
until I really need them
I dream of tornadoes
and overflowing volcanoes
100% rotten tomatoes
your regular meat and potatoes
the demons always wanna talk
they’re watching me like a hawk
I can’t even go for a walk
I always feel like I’m being stalked
they must not hear my silent pleas
they walk and talk and stand by me
one of these days I’m going to break free
I’ll do it on the count of three
1,2,3, I try to pull away
but the chains are here to stay
“you’ll always have it rough”
“you’ll never be good enough”
but here’s the thing you guys
I know all about the lies
I have the cuffs, you have the keys?
no, the keys have always been inside of me
you can scare me into the night
but I won’t go down without a fight
my energy has grown so bright
I’ll never let you dim my light
a vow to the demons of my past
the ones I grew close to pretty fast
it’s time that I let you know
it’s time for me to let you go
Oft solitude's a gift I need to seek
when life becomes a circus of events.
And oh, how precious are those few unique
hours I can spend alone as time presents.
These days, this treasured solitude's reversed;
commanded to stay sheltered, safe in place-
away from family and friends- submersed
in finding how I can survive with grace.
This challenge offers time to find new ways
to shape stiff patterns into supple ones;
use well this stage alone to think, appraise-
live calmer days before my time outruns.
With grace, I bear this solitude prolonged-
now righted as a gift- not feeling wronged.
April 29, 2020
~2nd Place~
Congest: Brian's Choice 8
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 05/10/2020
Stone Cold
Sitting motionless in this storm,
I’ve walked through many deep waters,
dripping with the scars that shaped me as a reminder.
It vibrates off ?me with the thunder of your silence,
An untitled, unspoken goodbye.
That makes a grown man sigh beneath a relentless rain.
As the rain hits my windowpane,
running down like tears full of rainbow emotions,
It causes the north wind to howl in the blue hour.
Since there is no awakening
Beyond these silent walls,
These days turn bitterly cold.
And even a heavy dose of novocaine
cannot freeze the ache in my chest,
or chemicalize a wall against the grief
The needle runs deep, but they never remind raw
In this hollow aftermath.
I am broken without your touch,
Haunted by whatever humility this hour leaves behind.
Since you left, no other embrace
Will never feel the same.
I am left with these remnants
frozen memories drifting in slow motion
Like fractured, falling snow.
You were the light at the end of my tunnel.
Now, the bitter days stretch on,
I’m stranded from you, lost in a past
That can never be rewritten.
With you gone, nothing feels right. The hardest part is remaining here alone.
buried where time stands still in faded gray.
What will life be like now?
No day will ever be normal again
trapped in winter’s apathy and deep blue hours.
My longing expands into uncharted space,
bound to the heavy pull of dark matter.
If forever were a lie,
There are times when I lose touch with reality.
That's not a trite statement or glib banality.
I don't live in morbid fear of repercussions
for what could I possibly miss that would lead me
to dread the things, I wish I hadn't heard? Absurd!
Don't take my blase' attitude as one of a recluse,
but if I refuse to sit on the edge of my couch,
listening to newscasts about so many wrongs,
that doesn't make me an oblivious old grouch.
It could be that I've become like an old television set
whose broken antenna no longer gets good reception.
Upon further reflection, that could be the problem
but I'll not wear sheets of aluminum foil in my hair...
Now, THAT is something I would surely regret.
The world is in such a sorry state of affairs these days
that I may be at peace living off grid, in a blurry haze
instead of knowing what's going on outside my doors.
I hear just fine without those rabbit ears from days of old.
I'll nix the idea to be informed about stress and strife.
I really don't lead a sheltered life, but it's tranquility
I seek in a world that seems to have become daft
to the 'love thy neighbor' policy that no longer exists.
I can laugh at my own faults and my idiosyncrasies
without learning which celebrities are in a steamy romance.
I'm vintage content with myself and tune into the radio...
which doesn't rely on an antenna ~ and then I dance!
Seven hundred and ten days ago, but it seems like just yesterday because shock from that days grip is only now, starting to let go. I have been in slow motion since the words of your exit were sent. Stretching through radio waves and into the earpiece of my phone, which to this day doesn't feel like it ever came to an end. Specifically regarding that feeling and sudden realization, your lights flicker won't shine on again. I do take deep breaths way more these days, since regardless of the way I am feeling a new minute will always be on its way. I am learning the art of retraining myself to apologize almost immediately after I know I have done or said something harmful and unfelt; I ask for forgiveness with honest and graceful intent. My goal is to be available to show concern and walk away. Except when the situation calls for action directly to prevent any relationships the need for future mend. Or another persons existence a forever felt absence. So I am now practicing letting go of old resentments that are making me sick. I have to tell you something. With your death, I birthed a resentment. This is not something I say with my head held high. In fact, when I just said that, a little more of my pride died. I can't believe I am angry at someone who now can't defend their decisions made while they were here and alive. I am investing my time walking through memories we shared in this life’s timeline. I just needed to tell you, I forgive you for making up your own mind. I forgive you for being selfish with your life, I let go of this anger as it has not proven to be justified. I welcome your visit, and accept however that may look. Still, I can't believe it's been almost two years that your life closed its book. Till the next chapter, this is not the end, this sis is the to be continued. Where? Well, now that is in God's hands.
I'd like to make you all aware
This world could use some loving care
Please take this opportunity
To read about my saddened plea
It's not like it was before
When people never locked their doors
Neighbors would just walk right in
A stranger became your new friend
These days people live in fear
There is danger everywhere
Children aren't safe anymore
With weapons brought inside school doors
Each day a woman's getting raped
While neighborhoods can not escape
The pressure of more gangs and violence
Leading to more deaths and silence
Hopefully all people will listen
About the things that I have written
And try to help me with my plight
To change these things from wrong to right
Grief Unmeasured
I measure every grief I meet—
knowingly, they’re all related to me.
Some smaller, some larger,
but all carry weight.
Yesterday, a friend’s text arrived:
“Her daughter was shot in the head.”
The words formed a puzzle I needed to unravel:
What, why, where?
I kept asking.
Death came too soon for this young woman.
My thoughts turned to my own children—
why must mothers bury their offspring?
Black-on-black violence, a painful reality.
I reached out to my friend,
but she refused my texts and calls.
Understandable—the shock is overwhelming.
Will pain ever grow old?
Will humanity cease its violence?
Or will weapons persist indefinitely?
Why does existence hurt so much these days?
Will we run out of comforting words?
This morning’s headlines were grim:
“A young mother abandons her newborn.”
Heartless? Perhaps not.
Fear for the child’s life drove her actions.
What future awaits that abandoned soul?
What trials lie ahead?
Emily Dickinson once wrote:
“The meaning of life is just to be alive.
It is so plain and so obvious and so simple.
And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic
as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.”
In passing, we find solace—
a piercing comfort on our journey through Calvary.
*Inspired by the Beatles song: Let it be
The answer may come with the wind,
Or maybe when you are sitting by the river
It may come with the rolling waves at the beach
Or reach you on a high mountain top
The answer you are looking for may rise with the sun,
As it shines through your window with beams of light,
Or when you are sitting with a cup of coffee as the day begins
It may come to you as you are taking a walk,
While nature speaks, runs and plays around you
The answer can come any one of these days
Let it take its natural course, it can come any one of these ways!
Heidi Sands
9/3/21
Hickory Queen of the Petrified Forest was increasingly fabulous,
Proud not arrogant, confident, not smug, and people came yearly to see her
She is like the statue of liberty, only prettier, one little girl said to her mother
Hickory Queen smiled from her fingers to her toes, but silently, covertly.
People picnicked under her, commenting that she appeared to be looking
She snickered, glorying in the knowledge that she was also thinking
And maintaining a memory for those lonely days when no one came
Mostly rainy days, and snowy days. She brought these memories out on these days.
She had been built by a tree master who had never intended to share her.
However, he had been struck by lightning, and was found a few day later
After turkey buzzards alerted people that something was dead in Petrified Forest.
Hickory Queen had been saddened by his death. He was like a father to her.
He had meticulously chosen each piece of wood, and had constructed her with love.
She understood love – she saw it in the families, she now claimed as her own.
They came from every part of the county, and sometimes other states
To gawk and smile and stand in awe, saying lovely things about her. She loved that.