When he said his name didn't believe it to be
thought the boy was making fun of me
Through diabetes had lost two toes
wearing sandals and it shows
Gordon was really an okay kid
kinda thin like he needed to be fed
Bushy wavy hair with eyebrows to match
as if above his eyelids bushy caterpillars had hatch
His voice was squeaky being a growing boy
lips thin, eyes big and ears like a Dumbo toy
He was average height looked healthy enough
but breathing through his little nose looked tough
His smile was his charm and lighted up the place
had to smile back seeing his cute smiling face
Gordon skate boarded and the boy could fly
soaring off ramps into the sky
He must have done skateboarding for awhile
falls were few and he had that skater's style
He looked young but was tall for ten
as a kid likable always with friends
Growing fast as a boy should
that Gordon kid in my neighborhood
Was polite and respectful but a tinge of sass
but that smile cover for him his laugh oddly rasp
Never had children through the point may be moot
If I ever had a kid hope he would be like Gordon Oddfoot.
my destiny lies
in other destinations
with undefined intentions
circle has no end
all off-ramps lead to dead ends
from merry roundabout ride
We had to be back before the street lamps came on,
our bicycles with pedal brakes and a dynamo-light.
Things were just different when we were still young,
all meeting in the park for a game or clod fight.
We dug several forts and built up dirt ramps.
We found a dog skull near a cold tramp's fire.
We improved my friend’s treehouse with a wooden pallet
and made booby traps out of string and barbed wire.
We competed for height in the avocado trees
and made bows and arrows and spears.
We waged war with the ants using firecrackers
and in the river, we piled deep stoney weirs.
No day was complete without a cut or a roasty
though no one much cried until we got home,
where our mothers nursed us with cups of sugar water
and the stinging red kiss of Mercurochrome.
Time has its quadrants,
past, future, inside and out,
mapping how we think
Yet the mind drifts across lines
Taking off-ramps into dreams
Fourfold reflections—
reason, desire, memory
with emotion too
Each one hums a soft refrain
angled back towards ourselves
Seasons share one throne—
spring, summer, autumn, winter
each a sovereign reign
yet the wheel's perimeter
pulls the spokes to turn around
Lines divide what's seen
yet center and rim conspire
to keep the wholeness
so the wheel quadrants can spin
around a time-wound axis.
Each day holds four realms—
dawn, morning, afternoon, dusk
daylight in quadrants
in the arc the sun sketches
to divide the problem pie
Beneath these quarters,
a hidden thread is woven—
inner, outer selves
then the collectives we share
in culture, outer systems
The boulevard of life
has no exit ramps,
Some find luxury
others homeless camps.
A single stop sign
lies at each road’s end,
But we never view things
beyond the next bend.
Each mile that we travel
we encounter another test,
Some, hold fast to faith
while feeling blessed.
We travel each mile
without thought or care,
While one day discovering
our vehicle shows wear.
Our fuel is most gone
and we cannot replenish,
But Jesus is the way
for our life trip’s finish.
God gave us a road map
offered without cost,
But too many didn’t accept it
and at their stop sign were lost.
After she left the house for realities unknown,
abandoned rooms became discrete spaces
fully occupied by her thoughts.
Buses still stop two doors down,
sparrows hop over the stalks of dead roses.
Road dust carpets, then is windswept away.
Eventually, Girl Guides selling cookies
scrub her address off clipboards.
The mail has begun to forward itself
to nowhere.
The house whispers to passing pedestrians,
It calls to migrant cats, homeless mice,
indigenous tribes of Carpenter Bees.
A face on a billboard is planted in the yard,
prospective buyers enter and leave,
none move in.
Her spirit returns for a while
to inhabit the once lived in.
half-heartedly she wanders
over her own footsteps,
does not stay long.
Her arthritic presence has moved on
to a place, a safehouse for the forgotten,
where grab bars and access ramps
are reimagined and improved.
I-95, I-80, I-78 or Route 1
Destined schedule with luggage
The journey
The start
The Distance
Long haul ride
Recline and Relax
Rest stops
Destined Towns and Major Cities
High Mountains
The uphill and downhill range
Highways to off ramps
Panoramic scenery
Towns people wave
Feeling of welcome
America’s history reflecting back
4 Days in Hours, Minutes and Seconds
Life thought of reckon
Observe and admire
Sunrise to sundown
The journey on until
Arrival to Destined finale
The educate and Learn
Hounding the Greyhound bus gateway
The ride a getaway.
Nimbus sheathes, laden heart's dark swamps.
Gush the insides out, a hollow, eerie remain.
Crimson cascade moat round, forbid ramps.
Notions of brick and steel, power's sweet regain.
A firm cage hedges all woes of time's sharp pain.
Blithe strides bridge the cracks, prove feasible still.
No doors, no windows, locked in impossible will.
On the skateboard of life there were thrills chills, and spills
But most of all for you there was freedom.
The ramps seem like mountains to us
But to you they were every obstacle you faced and overcame.
Your life was a skate park of dreams
Your eyes were wide open when you were on that board
Those visions of Umpa and Grammy were all the protection you needed.
The you met Allana and man wasn't she a fresh breath of air
Your place in this world was becoming home.
Then it all changed
In a blink of an eye you were gone and our world ended
It all changed
No more smiles only tears
In those tears though was an everlasting imprint into the impact you had on all of our lives
You were a calm fishing pond in an autumn mountain landscape
You brought your family closer
You were a beeken of light in their ocean of uncertainty
You were just a boy who became that young man we all loved today
You may be gone for now but this far from an end for you
You will always be right here in our hearts
When any of us pass a skate park we will remember the good times and the love you poured into us while you were here on this earth.
We love you Skylar for ever and ever amen
Too many
times
I walked down
that road
Too many
signs
said “lighten
your load”
Too many
faces
came out of
the rain
Too many
phrases
I couldn’t
explain
(now)
Too many
voices
attract
and repel
Too many
choices
heaven
or hell
Too many
warnings
in search
of an ear
Too many
mornings
in love
with my fear
Too many
chances
to hide
from the change
Too many
off ramps
that lead
— to more pain
(Site Of The Main Point: September, 2024)
a propellor spinning on ice
Time ramps up slowly
circles at a dizzying pace
unfurls once more
~ ends on a note of grace
Hope my future children have more bottles of perfume than Sterilium in their cupboards.
Favourite smell?
Alcohol rub and the scent of sterile hospital wings.
(Emphasis on sterile)
Maybe because of what comfort meant as a kid.
How does one get time with their parents when they practically live in the hospital?
Something I learnt as a 4-year-old was to just go live in the hospital with them xD
I camped in an empty OT to study, when Amma was on call the other day.
And it left me feeling like a kid perched on a rocky stool beside my dad in his clinic.
Brought back memories of another time -
Of afternoon naps in changing rooms, and running up long windy ramps, a playground with wheelchairs.
Is it surprising that I have 2 bottles of (gifted) perfume as opposed to 3 bottles of Sterilium in my cupboard?
Kid naps here, daycare!
Sick babies...About those
Kidnaps are there! Out there!
I wish I could, evocation, dowry!
For an already invested $275 nuptial Tyler Mowrey!
Gaza wall and Tel-Aviv- a , embracing in Jackson Church
Sameeha Azra- eel A and a PEER in peer pressure for air fryer
Is your oxygen an EIN? Bargaining overseas? Playing diplomacy? Daunts in ranting ramps where models stood?
Sometimes, data cable is not that a bad idea, where "inna lillah" is also a cliched Hinda call!
Long she served Holly Wood, May she come true among converts and traveler (pilgrims)
further in optimism in selfless "Sufism" not "Sophism or Hedonism",
Sin and Boon are all stamped with the sense of Shame, where the guilt is sensed after all!
Not a river dredging and to make a parable to river shifting, as no longer helpful!
Helpful and no longer! For once, try in Pickthall!
For the end of the time and the beginning, too
Time impeccable is Timeless Allah (SWT) and the all-knowing and all!
In time He begets not,
In Time He is free from the need of an obgyn,
of that specialty, departmental.
Flashing yellow lights
strategic lined red barrels
blocked off exit ramps
Life’s Untraveled Path
By: Miracle Man
January 6, 2024
At times in life each faces some decision,
and later on “what if” reveals its face.
Without giving our best with due precision,
we accept flawed thinking as no disgrace.
Often our actions go beyond risk taking,
for some risk taking is a part of life.
His chosen path had became heartbreaking,
And his life ended on a note of strife.
Written in memory
of a friend who lost his bearing,
and temporarily had flawed thinking.
Life has no exit ramps, just start and finish.
Tom
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