It was so sad; she was only sixty-nine my friend said.
I was glad we were on the phone, so she could not see my expressions.
nothing sad about a sixty-nine-year-old with dementia dying in her sleep.
dying slowly in a mean, horrible cancer death when you are two is worse.
A young person committing suicide is worse.
A sixteen-year-old who texts and crashes their car is worse.
A woman with dementia dying peacefully in her sleep is grace.
I keep these thoughts to myself.
My father had dementia; it is not a Ferris wheel ride.
My mother was begging for death.
Cancer went from her lungs to her bones and her brain.
That is a horrific death.
Dying peacefully in your sleep at sixty-nine
this is what most of us can only hope for.
Instead, we are taken young and in brutal manners.
Out of the tendrils of the night,
Understands the path of the light,
Speaks with an unusual depth,
Basking in the beauty of loved ones,
Looking out of the windows of life,
Dwelling in the meadow of resilience,
He calls daylight and twilight precious gifts.
February 21, 2026.
Nette Onclaud,
One On One With Myself Poetry Contest.
I met me on the podium of time,
saw sixty years old wrinkles on the face,
with eyes scanning charted road to be walked,
lighted by the senile sun of twilight.
Looked back at the path of promise traveled,
felt I’d walk quite content to the dark end,
not count the footsteps to cross the last mile.
By God's grace*, my child-like faith still prevails
weathering aging trials I can't miss
amidst triumphant smile of glowing face...
...grateful to greet each day with praise-filled zest~~~.
...mindful of nutrition and healthy ways
while reaching-out from loving heart's abyss
prayerfully ready against death wails.
*1 Corinthians 15:10 But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; but I laboured more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.
February 17, 2026
3rd place, "ONE ON ONE WITH MYSELF" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud; judged on 2/22/2026
Will I meet you at ninety
just two and one-half years away?
Will the time between now and then
help encourage me to stay
to gather more fine days beyond
and still share my old heart with love?
I'm doing my best each day.
Since I am over sixty,
Me, people try to console!
They give all advice to soothe my soul!
I tell them that I am in fine fettle,
They fail to understand my mettle!
I tell them not to be sympathetic!
Who listens? Each one is apathetic!
Six to nine.
Sixty Ninth.
Strip mine.
To find Strychnine.
Two fiddle heads form a heart.
But one has to be upright and other has to face apart.
Blender blades stacked together other spiral in opposition motions.
Similar to the grand motions of the unfathomable galaxy’s potions.
So here is a heart shaped cookie that I bake just for you to calm your mood.
America plagued by terror
Murder and hate wherever you turn
Country gone the way of Watts, ‘65
~ “Burn, baby burn”
I remember now!
His name was the Crenshaw Cowboy!
He was the one who told me I descended from kings!
This is why I jump over the fence
Why I kick the fence
We pillaged and burned
Doing only what we needed to survive
So that we could one day tear the fence down and make peace
Or maybe I'm wrong and death is the only way not to kill.
bruised tank top
name’s been scratched out
a guy jumps over the net fence,
out of the dog’s yard
smoother than the water in a wine glass.
guy says “what you talkin’ bout”
and then it’s nothing but nothing words and prepositions
i remember the dog’s name was Mocha
covered in scars
a black belt in Wing Chun
currently majoring in Philosophy
which is even more scary
some guy said to me that people like us
are actually kings
they all said the same thing
but they were all right, you know
maybe i just didn’t think of it
a musical trio
livening up the prairie
enthusiastic beatnik dog on bongo drums
terrifically talented tambourine-playing Tomcat
Romanian beauty with flashing eyes with a ukulele
people arrive to sing along and dance
it feels like the seventies
Woodstock sixty years later
gold leaf murals sparkling on old fashioned carousel
memories from years ago float into my riding brain
I watch the other riders, barely noticing Eiffel Tower
wondering if their memories will last sixty years like mine.
Well, you know me?
I've always been shy around Gurls
I didn't tell my Mom
Until I was forty-four
The last one I had (no not my Mom)
Was in nineteen sixty-four
It was a blind date
I wore more aftershave
On than a department store
Like always I was late
She was so sweet and kind
And I had to guide,her and her dog
Across the road
Because she was blind
(poor Gurl )
Since I was a young Lad
Gurls were a mystery
I knew they were different but I didn't know why?
I still don't even know today
Left to me we'd be extinct and have no history
They don't ever exactly knock on my door
Even In nineteen Sixty Four
But I love Gurls and Women
Only trouble is
I can't Lasoo one
They run too fast
And they are soon gone!
And it's not my fault I have bad breath
And stutter stutter stutter
Come out all you Ladies
Where ever you maybe
It's your chance
To save the world and humanity.
A French cafe in time and space,
where I would face,
you sitting there,
with your eclair.
One minute where worlds collided,
fates decided,
to my regret,
that our eyes met.
Sixty seconds of my mistake,
at buying cake,
stood in that queue,
when I blamed choux.
He slept for sixty years
then woke up with a start
For the life of him
he couldn’t tell things apart
Ghettos still all filled with blacks
War everywhere he turned
Young folks rioting in the streets
Property looted and burned
World ‘leaders’ puffing out their chests
threatening to detonate
Nuclear arsenals built to the hilt …
Make love, but don’t procreate …
So, the sleeper saw a doctor
and told him all his troubles
Doctor said, “Your eye exam
reveals you’re seeing double”
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