Long Unanticipated Poems
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May 2024 was the month I knew I would never work again.
Pneumonia in January and February convinced me to retire.
I had given my notice back then; school would be out May 28th.
My seventy-second birthday was May 31; I would be retiring June 1st.
I did not volunteer for field day this year, although I usually did.
Illness kept me away from school a few days the last week.
I did not feel guilty, I felt validation this was God’s plan for me.
Retirement is nothing I had looked forward too.
I felt my body was forcing me into it, and I was a bit irritated.
Two retirement parties did not make retirement feel real.
I had been working since I was sixteen, working was my way.
The minute I was checked out from my boss, I left, fleeing the place.
I forgot to leave my badge, so I ran back in and gave it to a friend.
Her check out time was in an hour, and I did not want to be called back.
I knew my time was over; I was on my way to a new unanticipated life.
Leaving work me behind was the hardest thing I have ever done.
In the late interlude of existence, a woman,
Readies herself to step into the celebration of her seventieth year.
She asks, has she found the soul's peace,
Fulfillment, the joy of life, or does she still wander
In search of answers to old questions,
Returning to "what if's” in a world devoid of echoes.
Her descendants prepare for her a grand celebration,
Her grandchildren, stars around her, shining to honor the occasion.
Are they the mirror of her pride?
Or is her heart weighted with ungiven time,
Persistent worries, endless wishes for better?
The extended family gathers, in this festive moment,
Yet she feels distant, a stranger in her own narrative.
Life has not followed her dreams; it has been a path of storms,
But from each trial, she learned to be strong,
To embrace her days with gratitude, to leave phantoms behind,
To graciously accept the unanticipated gifts of fate.
Once asked about future plans,
She dreamed of grandeur, yet found only silence in responses.
Now, with serene wisdom, she whispers her creed: "let it be",
Finding answers in the song of stars, in the breeze's caress.
Her dreams, unfulfilled, but never forsaken,
Urge her to dream anew, to reinvent,
To live each moment, to carve her own path of happiness,
For in the end, you are the architect of your own life.
Thus, this woman, free from the concerns of tomorrow,
Dances to rhythms of eternity, living in the present,
Changing with each day like a gentle balm,
Embracing life, in all its complexity, with an open heart.
Ahhh... to live each moment as an endless gift,
In this mystical tableau, where every verse is a melancholic sigh.
Marooned on the island of loneliness
Shadows of delusion confront me
In a stormy sea, I got shipwrecked
And the sea has robbed everything from me
What unanticipated change comes over
When people let you down
What a shocking realization it is
To know that there is nobody around to care.
On coming face to face, will anyone acknowledge me
Or will a happy smile light upon any face?
I am now a drying brook
That once has been a river in spate
A deflated balloon unable to soar high
A blind bird that cannot see a dawn
Nor sing a song to wake the sleeping world
My scars are like deep cuts
On an ill-maintained tarmac road
I sleep in endless weariness,
And grope among dark spaces
I vacantly look into the far horizon
When the broken shards of moonlight
Paint pictures of dark demons around me
Like a bird that with nightfall
Returns to a tree to call out its solitude to the stars
I sit here alone,
Alone, alone,
Not knowing to whom I shall call out!
Will the stars keep me company?
Tomorrow, should I go into exile or wake up
With the hope that my pain will go into remission
And my soul’s cry will be heard by some attentive ears!
Or will my frozen inside thaw by itself in time?
Sanguine moon
hanging over the Earth on fire,
where's the escape from dire?
Red flames from flowing lava, will soon
will leave nothing but ashes,
showing burned faces with no lashes.
I would row a boat, if the up-heavel so unanticipated
weren't from the turbulent sea declaring war;
and rowing with a force never conceived or ever needed,
I could reach the untroubled side of the opposite shore.
Fate, be kind to me, unlikely the sanguine moon
hanging over the Earth on fire with clouds so dark and full;
fate, let me reach another civilization before forenoon,
not to be engulfed by fuming waves as an ignominious fool.
In the bounded citadel of slumbering souls,
Where the search is mute and the waiting - an unwritten world,
Wrestling roots of unplanned love twist and coil,
Bursting wild in the field where reason holds no visa.
While thought slumbers under a vault of silver, unasking,
Restless hearts, unsummoned, play in the meadow of time,
Men and women, without haste, never stalking the measure of moments,
Meet like two stars, in a galaxy of feverish, secret feelings.
Among the waves of time that break their crests in silence,
Therein, suddenly, two spirits find themselves in an enchanted dance.
They do not seek, they do not hope, they do not anticipate - what will be, will be - a delight
That sprouts discreetly, in the calm, as the day wraps itself in the discreet twilight.
Thus is born love - a king and queen of happenstance,
In a realm slightly hidden from the malevolent decrees of the world,
Where cauldrons of longing are overturned, without witnesses, without companionship,
And in the chests conceal butterflies of flames, in hearts brimming with divine dreams.
This love shatters legions of conceived walls,
Like vapors raising the prisons of logic to the heavens, all.
It comes placidly, on waters of smoke, into well-watched souls,
And settles gently, never overgrown by its fate, far-reaching.
Through it, the purest of affections are revealed, without calling,
In a world where the mind lays down, in a starry night gown,
Allowing the heart to follow its course - queen over its own realm of dreams -
Special and mysterious, unexpected and unanticipated love, but never forgotten.
One thing I’ve learned about life…in all the memories I’ve collected…is hot to embrace the unanticipated…the unforeseen…the unexpected
Oh, I still believe in planing trips with forethought, caution and care…but I’ve found unplanned moments can lead to happiness…I didn’t know was there.
I remember on a well-planned trip with Deborah…to Chattanooga, Tennessee…a wrong turn down a wrong street…ended at the Moon Pie factory.
If it wasn’t for that wrong turn…that little glitch in our vacation travel riddle…we would have never discovered Moon Pie makes a sandwich with marshmallow ice cream in the middle.
Thanks to one unplanned, unexpected turn in Chattanooga, Tennessee…Moon Pie ice cream was added to our list…of treasured memories.
I used to be a jogger…a daily routine to which I religiously kept…every morning I’d be out there running while the rest of my family slept.
But years of running…on my knees…was too much of a shock…and after two meniscus surgeries…my run became a walk.
I admit my initial disappointment I found difficult to hide…but when I ran…I ran alone…now I walk with Deborah by my side.
We walk together in the morning at slow and steady paces…enjoying the beauty of the animals, the trees and the breeze upon our faces.
I’m not sure how or why this happens…but I find it altogether stunning…how we see and hear things as we walk…I never saw or heard while running.
I don’t know why these moments come about…how by Fate they are selected…but I know whenever I eat a Moon Pie or take a walk with Deborah…I thank my lucky stars for every memory unexpected.
An apt gift of presence empowers
as an unanticipated
unearned warning misfortune
enlightens apt rapt resilient fortune,
Delighted with discovering,
perhaps rediscovering?
healthy passions I would never have been wise enough
to look up for
nor hunt down.
Timing
is everything.
Time regenerates everywhere,
erupts every when
disrupts every what
corrupts every why
every how;
and merely every thing
somehow?
Nature trained
senses engrained
spirit deep and wide neuro-systemic brained
Transforming change in forbidding appearance
forms strange
grotesquely disempowering
transmogrified degenerative monocultures
Transubstantiating change of inside communion substance
elements
figments
as invisible as unpresented polyculturing presents
not light yet
not still
not quite actively accessible to sense-powered
cognize-able felt reception,
Unformed except for past internal images
body reimagined
rememories
not yet memed,
polyculturally represented
Polypathically etched,
but not yet iconically written
integral sacred secularizing social senses
nonsenses
unsenses
resenses
presensing
Apt presents empower
as yet unlearned warnings enlighten
coincidental apt light
empowering presence
enraptured bright.
staples
hanging file folders gawk
as we skirt around
in friendly conversation
what’s apparent in you voice everyday
taunting me with the thought of someone else in your arms
Each Passing Day I see my Father More
ice melts
as this wandering dissention
gains the resemblance
of aging clumsily
every morning
hairs lost speckle my pillow,
bathroom sink, and counter
deftly comb my hair to the side with a smirk
A Bird Softly Chirps Outside My Bedroom Window 6:34 am
so spring’s started
sun’s begun
to bring some warmth
to the past four days of
cold and snow
measured in increments
of feet
still clinging to
the trees
desperate for life
shoes growing tired of wet clinging sand
3/14/01
Mid-Spring Dreams
Rain has gone
Leaving the first patches
Of awakening grass
Awkward as our love
On this rainy night
You silently debate the
presumed would
Forever be
Static in the Air
Life’s transformed to stress
Scribbled poetry’s a mess
Passion redirected into sporadic fits of rage
Fretting the former ease of unblemished page
Candy
Unanticipated lapses
Midnight whispers
Lead to painstaking
Goodbyes
Hearts breaking
Only to erupt again with love
Our conversation’s revived
The glory of America,
now heats up
with agitation poised
to strike on the brink
sans legislation incites humiliation,
which goads desecration
as fete accompli chink
in armor of Democratic rubric,
constituting capitalistic
ethic, generic iconoclastic,
and jingoistic logic,
nor budging an inch
when mandating masses
swallow his drink
what huff huck –
this belligerent, dominant and
fervent hellraiser doth
bungle in the jungle
decreeing tacit Marshall law
fast as a shutterfly eyewink
as his cosmic crotch grab
doth put Venus under his sway
with his Mercury hill temperament
pitches the orbit of planet Earth
tubby comb out of balance
infected by hiz anti Jew pitter
damnations, excoriations, fulminations
Huzzah sing how whiz derriere
didst Sat urn simultaneously
crushing crucible as an Uranus
indiscriminately plopping
two hundred fifty pounds of flesh
doubling down humming
his favorite Neptune
that dost affect Pluto hoc crass sea
repeating a self coined motto –
I yam almighty, therefore no fink
simply commandeering the reins of control,
a one man military intelligence groupthink
hut triad and true dyed in the wool
rip pug in ant guise zing rogue
rejoicing tuff fool, governing and hoodwink
king the die hard fans of dictatorial,
linkedin and monarchist ink
cube bus thriving on
wielding indomitable aggression
practiced in the Art of the Deal
incorporating an unanticipated jink
iron fist rule reigning down
vis a vis pro pens heave lee
and prop hen city
flashing hiz seal of approval,
which scribbled signature
doth not smooth arctic monkey
serve hay puzzling kink
boot his frenzy to bulldoze
catastrophic, formulaic, and illogic
spells these United States
of America will become hell
in a handbasket worth repeating
with nary a trace of the grit of link
kin, the sixteenth president,
(whose ruggedly pioneering frontier existence)
found him steady and strong,
plus soft hearted as pelt o’ mink
the epitome of this forty fifth
elected commander in mischief.
As quiet blackness deepened
I lay awake my heart in check,
The cool night wind blew
And welcome silence grew…
_______
Unanticipated music exploded
Roused me from bed rest,
I tiptoed to its source:
Dark sounds from downstairs,
Nearer, higher, and louder
Till it reached the hallway.
He grasped my hand,
Whirled it to turn me twice,
Held me close, went on trotting steps
Slow, quick, quick; slow, quick, quick;
Slow, slow, quick, quick...
He never gets tired, he liked the dance.
He led; I followed - his greatest joy;
In perfect timing to his bidding,
I swayed wherever he flung me,
His steps were full of variation –
He liked it that way;
While I only had one reaction –
Receive his urgings.
Perfect dance he'd always say because
It is with such ease when partner is open
That controlled movement is played.
Ungraceful dance I never liked,
But all this time it kept me alive:
His music and diverse steps I sought
And to it I humbly swayed.
Tonight I let him led again,
Just like the other days and nights.
The darkness of the night was strained,
It was only the curtains that were swaying,
To the night breeze with grace,
Stark of light peeped out from the room,
My hands and feet went frozen like ice,
I heard a different tune within, sad, weary,
But slowly roused with excitement
And anger underneath... Heated me up
Ablaze, my eyes red-stained -
He held me closer to him, and I -
Pulled myself too tight to him
He was pleased I saw it in his sated eyes
As I meekly submitted… for the last time.
We did slow, quick, quick steps for a two
Or more and then he let me go; I trotted
Far away from him then back to him
Without his behest, and out of rhythm
His steps were outside our dance floor…
Down the stairs...In open position he lay there,
In his face I saw his dance - the macabre
dance - I never liked at all. His eyes dazed –
He had his final dance with me after all.
_____
The night was cold, yet I felt warm, and the music gone,
The curtains stopped swaying at the night winds’ prodding.
-maria
8/11/14