You don’t know
what you cherish,
like kissing
grandpa, two girls
against his cheeks.
He appears younger
than you thought
at the time, and I’m
in the prime of my youth,
shirt and skirt so sprightly,
my sis not her shapely-self,
still finding her way. I
recently slimmed down;
not the first time. Back when
both grams were living,
one thought I was too little;
kin don’t mean to do that.
Even now, a couple of people
have said it’s good to have meat
on the bones; rolling eyes.
I never gave thought
to the features, the blessed face,
how we must have been good
for his soul. We visited once
a year. I was a teen, my sis
a pre. She’d not come
into her own yet. Didn’t matter;
it doesn’t, to most grandparents.
They just moisten their eyes
with all the grand-love they get.
It’s not until we are around the same
age, that we understand
how much it must have mattered -
a photo masterpiece!
every page I turn
tells a story of my life
a voice from the past
WANTED PHOTO OP
MEDIA SAYS NO.
TRUMP IMAGE WE CHOP
This far have stood back from, life
Its lonesome edge
As dimly seen, there overhung
Was sought by none.
A scary viewpoint. Fright's own!
I invited.
Away from all; their noises.
But one; voice's
If but heart-echoingly
Which place, haunted
Shook out winds, as whisper-shy
A teared reply.
left prematurely due to mystery illness
Inside a frozen moment you wait
the door ajar
as if to capture the faintest echo
of footfall
the mirror scrutinizing that empty space
on the couch
my reflection endlessly snared
in mute counterpoint.
When I take a scenic photo, it brings me directly into the moment
Everything else slips away like a cleaning rush of water arrived
No worries, no other thoughts, just stunning beauty in front of me
All with gratitude that I captured this momentary view to see
Heidi Sands
6/5/26
(C)opyright
Old love can always make a plot.
Either living or dead it always has its spot
You wish to speak but you don’t know how
You reach for memories for the way out
Out of silence into shouts.
Out of strangers into clout
Out of damnation into salvation
Into reality of what it was all about
A few words of memories from out the cloud
The feeling of empathy growing from the ground
Which would be better the wind or a saw
Is silence a weapon or just a flaw
We don’t have to go back it isn't a law
I am what I am the same as what you saw
Am I just beginning or learning to crawl
I don’t need compliments or attention at all
Just give the understanding I no longer fall
You were special and that you’ll always be
And the time we spent together
You’ll never take from me
From nothing I came into what would be
A memory or clash what's to become of me
A shadow of marriage and then divorce
Words were wedding bells
My absence the fatal course
Words become admission and guilt
They also become the sorrow that is felt
Forgiveness would be a word or two
These words I speak you know only you
All I ask is just a picture of you
Just a reminder of that thing you do
Old Family Photo Album
Family photo album
The entire family is long deceased
Album ends up in a thrift store
Full of beautiful family photos and history
Sits on shelf unsold
Gathering dust
full moon just rising
lake acing like a mirror
reflecting it’s face
Come on... smile for me.
Show me that big old silly grin.
Cross your eyes & say cheese ~
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
Thinking of you this morning.
Sending you a kiss via this selfie.
Write back or call me.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Family albums:
photographs that tell
different stories
from the lives we're living.
Old secrets frozen in time...
history in a flash...
mystery around the edges.
Sun reflect—
soporific effect
of sultry, languorous afternoon.
A photo album, open in an attic room,
of my family and dear friends gone all too soon.
Phantasmagorically fey—
gallimaufry in stray
disarray.
Silly selfies by the pool.
Vacation memories to keep us through winter.
One Two Three... Say Fun!
Wordku: 5-7-5- words
AP: 3rd place 2025
For every trip we go on,
A photo book is made.
It’s just a way to guarantee
That memories won’t fade.
Unlike the days of making prints,
I do it all online,
With pictures taken from the phone
To form my own design.
It takes some time and often
There are glitches, which I hate
And since I’m not the patient type,
They do exasperate.
And yet it somehow all gets done,
With hours going by.
I hit the “order” button,
Though I sometimes wonder why.
For no one ever takes a peek
Or even seems to care,
Except for me and I’ll admit,
My peeks are pretty rare.
Still, it’s a custom I won’t break
Since it is worth the cost
To capture these vacations
‘Til the day they all get tossed.
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