As I'm envisioning hundred and eight beads of garnet and pearl
Strung along a red braided string in hand of an Indian earl,
Colour pattern symbolizing country flag of his girl.
december clouds
While driving to a meeting
I took in the scenes
as bare fields rolled
past the window of my car.
through pale skies
I took in stories
of guests on Public Radio
as if they were mine
and let my thoughts drift.
landscape of dreams
Strung along the highway
plots of land resting
passed onto children
spoke of a father’s love.
A silent kiss, forgotten song,
Are the moments I've strung along
A necklace of days I once knew,
that became broken without you
Summer's breeze carried us in clouds, impossibly high
We flew so far away, we were but a whispered sigh
lilac meadows remind us to hear, and not forget
Each silent kiss becomes a gold and crimson sunset
I sit alone 'neath branches bare
with chilly voice, wind tries to share
a remembered song, springtime bliss
But I just think of our first kiss
Lonely, waiting, the hours last
Each long day yawning to exist
Stolen are days as they go past
And then I hear your silent kiss
At the end of another summer day
Rainbow of deflated asses crotches and breasts strung along our deck railing
Flail like a Tibetan prayer flag
Under the smoky umbrella of burgers and brats
Grilling for dinner
Souls adrift from their left behind soaked skin
The sleeves and pantlegs re-begin
Arms and legs jog in place
In the cool lungs of a dry evening breeze
Moon sheen of shoulders and knees
Minutes before dawn
Creased pressed and ready for a new day
They kick and whisper rearrange themselves by order
A titter of
Generations past present and future
Here the people come!
Grandpa and grandma moms and dads sisters brothers
An army of kids teenagers to toddlers
Hurray! One by one
Like rays sprung from the sun
Once again
Off
The dried suits are plucked
Hot bodies slip back into place
Here we go
Body and soul
Made whole for another summer day
Of swimming.
A bucket of passion-with a spray of ambition.
Can be a foundation for sparkling things...
A first flight -a college degree, a newborn cry.
Gracefully treading nightmares in black-finned nights.
Turning a death rattle into melodies in pearl.
Strung along the gilded wings of infinity.
A greying wish is an opaque endeavor.
It lends the hands to idling.
Creasing the satin of reality.
Old wishes dangle wearily from the ceiling.
Like dying Faries in a cobweb dream.
Rabbit Hole
I woke one morning
Everyone’s gone
We fell in that rabbit hole
In what we call phones
Gone is the laughter
It’s all lol
It’s not really funny
Not even giggles
Hello, Is that you
Or phisherman
You say you want
To be friends again
I miss the connections
That ring a ding a ling
Saying hello
With our voices again
I don’t want lyrics
I’d rather hear song
Volley’s of voices
Of words strung along
I woke this morning
Missing my friends
I’ll send you my feelings
In emoji sad grins
Bill MacEachern December 11, 2023
Strung along, I am a fool
Always working for others
Once branded a handy tool
Foot on my neck
Boot lodged for good
I barter and sweat
A soul without identity
I work and work
Free food and amenities
However no ambition for more
The days stretch together
A day's work leaves me sore
Trapped by a leash hand-sewn
Never in search for better
I could have done well all alone
A life of nothing, wasted among time
Perhaps I could've done more
If you ask, I'm doing just fine
We all want you to live
but if you are to die this night
make it quick
not drawn out, strung along
by gasps and moans.
Frankly, we are uncomfortable
being here seeing you like this.
Really it's most frustrating,
really quite inconsiderate
our deep compassion is running thin.
If death hovers over you now
then let the end begin.
We are all praying for our release,
itching to be anywhere else,
but timely death is running late
and we simply cannot wait
to mourn for you.
You joined me at the park that day
As I tearfully, read from my heart
The hardest letter I could ever write
It's rawness about tore me apart
After you made me wait all weekend
I was finally granted your attention
I could only be honest and true with you
And this day was no exception
My deepest and most intimate feelings
Then and now, I covered it all
It was important I shared what had to be said
And I held nothing back, you may recall
The uncertainty of things moving forward
Seems comparable to being strung along
The flood of tears started as I drove away
Nothing else to lose, you were already gone
The weaver of stories
The twister of words
Where within me is she?
Where is she lost?
Creativity, it's where?
Where is my flair?
Those sentimental words
Those phrases of care
My dagger-like anger
My grief, a killer
Where is that me in me?
Where is that thriller?
Everything, it's lost
Not a bit strung along
My words fail me
All's gone, so long
My poetry, so plain
My words, so bland
My heart, it's mute
My thoughts, they're blank
Without you, I'm bare
With you, I'm alive
I seek you within me
In you, let me dive
So when is your comeback
Oh poet-girl of me?
When will you return
Belong once again to me...?
My uncle took me fishing.
He’d smoke his favorite briar
Stuffing the cherry blend in with stubby
Welsh fingers more suitable for digging coal,
Than compacting mulched tobacco leaves.
A line taut between his index finger and his thumb,
He took a thready pulse of a line strung along the pole.
He told me stories of his growing up:
Painting my grandfather’s car ruined by feathers
Blown in from a cock who’d recently been plucked.
He would hand the pole to me to relight his pipe, he said.
And fumble among the hundred pocket vest
Pockets for his Zippo lighter
I liked surreptitiously to smell
And play endlessly with clicking of its top.
A trout would tug my line, bolt arching up
Above the water’s edge and topple back to tug again.
I’d play it back and forth until I played it up on shore.
And put it in a basket made of hardened wicker weave.
Some men fish for fishing's sake and others to make fishermen. (2/7/02)
Decorations fill the halls
Row of rolls of shining reds
Strung along the long walls
Followed by green and gold
The Christmas tree is ready
All gifts wrapped underneath
The buffet table is is long filled
with all types of food
The eggnog is waiting
At the hallway door hanging
A mistletoe over head hangs
Ready waiting for couples
To be underneath to kiss
On Christmas Day
What became of the old chestnut tree?
That stood tall for all to see
I cannot find them now, did they die?
All this time I’ve wondered why.
Limbs would arch and touch one another
Chestnuts would drop hard and I’d run for cover,
All over the ground they would lie
Reminds me of the walnut trees that stood by.
Piling up the leaves in one big heap
just to take a jump and a leap,
horse chestnuts had a light brown luster
strung along the branches in small clusters.
I treasure the past with many memories
Fun and frolic under those big great trees,
having a picnic under the enormous shade
that was my playground, where I once played.
Multitasking
Planning and thinking
Always jumping
Two steps ahead
How would I know
To live in the moment
As I juggle priorities
And make sure
Everything gets done
On time and just right
Strung along
Feeling lucky
If here and there
I can live
In the moment
Once in a while
Throughout my week
Perhaps take a bath
Without drawing up
Another To Do list
Living in the moment
Seems like a luxury
Only others can afford
Feeling trapped I can’t slow down
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
A banana peel littering the sidewalk
A candy wrapper lying carelessly on the parkway
An aluminum Coke can, crushed, by the side of the curb
Cigarette butts scattered randomly on the pavement
A plastic diaper stuffed into a trash container
A ballpoint pen, squished, bleeding in the roadway
A torn knitted glove abandoned on a park bench
Sunflower seed shells strung along a sandy beachfront trail
A careless remark, tossed out haphazardly, devastating a reputation
A promise broken, unintentionally, rattling around our soul
A lifetime of effort, squandered, forever unappreciated
Love spurned, nonchalantly, rending our fragile heartstrings
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