Bumpity-bump, slowly, through the airports six times.
My husband gets the exercise and excitement, I crave.
Too much,
as he sees them let go
on the decline - I’m soaring without wings
but who knows
as I
can only see ahead, not behind.
Quickly, we whizz
to catch our shuttle.
I can see THIS
as the driver darts me to and through.
I can’t see YOU - my husband
who can’t keep up.
I’m sure the driver,
with his hands maneuvering the chair,
without a care-in-the-world,
and laughter in his race,
only has his eyes on the prize.
He longs to catch up
to his next ride.
My husband is quite tired as he drives us home,
after being
quite awake.
I’m just glad to tidy up, do the laundry, and find home
in my faithful chair, and enjoy the embrace of
peace and quiet,
and a bite of Antoinette’s Sweets
(her renowned’ orange-chocolate), after a busy vacation.
resolutions fail
promises may get broken
yet we must still try
Now that all the family and friends have retreated back to their own caves to digest the pies, cookies and candied everything of another holiday ruckus, it’s finally time for me to tidy up the old homestead. January has arrived here in the Ozarks. It is traditionally a month of resolutions. Those promises we all make to ourselves to be better neighbors, better friends, better family…better human beings. Time for reflection and regeneration. A time to remember those things that treated us well and how not to repeat the mistakes we've made throughout the years. I have my list, though I’m sure most of them will fall by the wayside within days, I’ll still try to keep them as long as I can. Because even though I’ll only keep my resolution for a day, a week or a month, my life might be in a better place for a while. Besides, who says I can only make a resolution once?
Salmon pink horizon beguiles as I towel dry
Upon a muted canvas morphs hues at sunset.
The lake decants of its waders and pontoons.
Mirrored waters tranquil—a soothing elixir.
Tidy up and make camp for the night.
The campsite invited blissful slumber.
Natural waters reflected frond umbrellas.
An artificial lake at once sequestered.
Fuchsia shades spackled across dusky skies.
All had surfaced—I dove into a lost horizon.
I remember when I got them
They were only five days old
Their lips were big, and their eyes were small
And their tails were Orangie/gold
I used to feed them twice a day
Once in the morning and once at night
And when it was time for them to go to bed
I would turn on their overhead light
Every week I would clean their gravel
And I would tidy up their tank
I even once gave them a toy boat
But unfortunately, the dang thing sank
Yesterday morning I woke up
And one of my goldfish was dying
Now I know how it feels to be heartbroken
Because all day long I've been crying
I never knew that things could die before
And I never knew I would feel this bad
Because now my fishy passed away
And I am feeling really sad
Dear God, before I go to bed tonight
I pray that my little fish will be alright
Dust drops like silent thoughts, neglected
over the piano lid, shut quiet and still.
Some dust we keep as mementos
in a chaotic pile of keepsakes.
Some we wipe away on a rainy day,
with windows wide open to keep it from our nostrils.
We wipe away the fingerprints left by
the guilty one, the cleaner upper-er,
to leave no trace for retribution.
Neglect, retention, renewal, recollection,
detritus, waste, tidy-up and decay,
all converge when
we live our lives and gather dust,
and we dust up the gathering.
Friday the 13th always takes over.
I can’t be saved with a four leaf clover.
Everything is ominous.
My cereal is filled with angry ants.
If I turn on the stove, will I start a fire?
Then run and trip over an electrified wire?
I tidy up and call the electrician.
I sit on the couch to avoid premonitions.
Friday the 13th is a lonely day.
I’m scared to be here but also scared to drive away.
As I could get in a crash.
I throw my old toaster in the trash.
My friends text and ask what’s wrong.
Wasn’t I supposed to ride along?
I check my phone and realize,
That this day I’ve been viewing with fearful eyes-
Is Thursday the 12th!
So no need to worry about my health.
Tomorrow, I can hole up again.
But for now, I’ll have fun with my friends.
I love you dearly, in ways your little foibles can never deny,
With your laugh, your smile, the bright twinkle in your eye.
But when I see your clothes strewn all askew,
Perhaps the smitten, has bitten off too much to chew!
The dishes pile up, the socks are everywhere.
The clutter expands to chaotic mayhem in which I despair.
Your shoes live like vagrants, begging on the stairs.
Your papers, like confetti, cast litter over tables and chairs.
So here's my plea, my love, a fear I must confess.
I love you dearly, but not your lovely mess!
So let's tidy up together, or hire a helping hand!
While rocking, rolling, jiving to our favorite band.
For while messiness is a sign, they say, of a creative mind,
Mindless mess does not feed my mind to be creative in kind.
Ma, I dont wanna go to school.
I wanna stay home and swim in the pool.
I dont wanna be with bossy teachers,
I'll stay home and eat ice cream and peaches.
Ma let me stay home with you,
We can find fun things to do.
I'll help you today Ma, all day long.
I'll be a good help, cause I am strong.
Off to school today would be such a pity.
I'll pick flowers, the house will look pretty.
I'll sweep the floor with your broom.
Ma, you want me to tidy up my room?
Do the dishes? Clean the floor with a mop?
So many chores, Ma I need to stop.
Ma, being home isnt much fun,
I can be in time for school, if I run.
We dwelt together,
one hand on a door handle.
Keeping rooms --- a semi-settled living,
parents still squatting in our heads,
rent due spaces,
red buses passing below or above,
according to what level we rose to.
Domestic wreckage evacuated,
a small venerable van stuffed to the gills,
and we with our books
bundled up in raffia rafts,
cats tucked under shawls or coats,
escaping loudly on red bumpy buses.
It is the little things that haunt:
a florescent green plastic handbag,
maroon stockings
draped over a lava lamp,
fluffy toy animals
scented with relationships.
Shades of lipstick on a cracked mirror
unwashed rugby shirts,
the soft tang of old spice aftershave,
vinyl albums revolving in our heads.
I recall it all ---- but no,
not wanting to dwell again with the young,
but to follow the routes of London buses
to past, departures and destinations,
to enter again
those rooms for penniless delinquents,
just to tidy up a little, and perhaps
close drawers and doors left open.
All the coming and going,
going out
guests coming, so -
dress up
make up
spruce up
brush up
tidy up
don the new getup
shake the dust
off the best plates.
Its so uplifting and fulfilling.
This is so becoming.
The door handle has grown cold
The windows all webbed up
And all the warmth of the home,
all gone cause nobody visits anymore
The roof all rusty and creaking
The front steps mouldy
And all the beauty that once was,
quickly fading cause its not a home anymore
It's just a house where kids outgrew
Leaving home never to look back
And since they want nothing to do with it
Their parents couldn't either cause they've aged
That's why they use the back door this days
And since no one comes they see no need to tidy up
Cause just like their kids, they no longer need much of the space
For it was a family home but now it's only an old couple there
The house only lights up during Christmas
For the kids come visiting only that time
When the grandkids have nugged to see grandpa
Cause the city life has swept them,
the countryside isn't what they call home
The PO£T
Dear wife when I leave my red-light-lit
war room behind me
can you tidy up my love.
Sorry about the mess,
I was a befuddled general,
I led far too many
into my own dark fears.
Can you put way my cluttered
battle maps, dire dispatches
and unbroken codes,
then please take my desk and chair
into the sunlight
where in time they might become
mossy and ornamental
for your small garden?
The abandoned room
should be turned into a nursery
for green and yellow plantings.
The war chest is open and empty,
make it a crib
for all the infants who can now live
forever peacefully with themselves.
Yellow flowered woman hiding among buttercups galore
Knew how to tidy up every crevice, crack and eyesore
We knew better than to fawn, admire, compliment or adore
She did not believe in flattery, felt it was dishonest, did abhor.
Yellow flowered woman came out in April every year.
She was a friend to grasses, daffodils, and delightful deer.
Her goal was to most of nature lovers abundantly clear.
She uplifted spring, gave buttercups and lilies a big cheer.
He broke the vase,
he scribbled on the wall,
he put tar on the lounge sofa,
paint on the floor,
little cars everywhere,
his shirt in the corner,
his cycle in the way!
His mother picked him up
gave a big kiss!
She said “ I have waited
for this moment, to light up my life”
“a clean quiet house is such a prison,
rest now and sleep for a while,
So I can tidy up for you to play again,
your childhood, is a gift from God,
Forgive me if I ever lose my patience,
or hurt you in anyway!”
1st Placement
Written 2/July/2022
Anoucheka Gangabissoon sponsored
Forgiveness poetry contest
*Image of Sunset River for Two by Pixabay.
AUDIO: Tip; Right-click on volume then click on Loop of the drop-down menu for continuous play.
The Widower and Wife: LIND30
Tear stained pillow dries in dawns light,
with his eyes wide-opened with delight,
an aliferous butterfly color-filled wingspan,
a smile had donned on a well informal man,
[LIND30WCR]
An egg fries and a toast buttered,
Mid-morning in the field, he stands,
The window curtain flaps in the wind,
He tipped his lid and toiled all day long.
[LIND30WCU]
Bathed, tidy up, cooked, eats feast,
two placed arrangement, routine,
a theme plays he knows by heart,
arms bout confirming the dark away,
[LIND30SU]
The widower goes to bed,
turned down and alone he spread,
he sleeps on its comforter,
and lulls to another night with her.
[LIND30SR]
2022 January 26
*1st Place*
A Poem Crafted In The Various Lind30 By Robert Lindley
~~Chantelle Anne Cooke: Judged 2022 February 25
*7,7,7,9 per section HMS, PSGC, PSSC
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