The mirror shows a silhouette,
Her eyes blurred by the sweat of nostalgia
Would she ever recognize her image
again?
That dark, shadowed image
Decades ago, her hair in a bow,
Heart dancing to the rhythm of her smiles,
Innocent eyes, soft hands,
Could she stay like this forever?
Remnants of lost compassion linger,
Those infectious laughs of joy
Her eyes, once free of hidden burdens
Where is the girl that had known love?
Memories salvaged, time, her foe,
Parts of her slipping through cracks in her soul
Past dreams and fears weigh heavy,
Maybe, one day, she would find herself again
-Trisha
Awareness (Haiku) © Trisha Sugarek
My soul breathes the earth
Eyes see the light in the trees
My heart brims with joy
Robert's cause of death will probably be:
Corona Virus, at age 20
~ Character Cause of Death Profile ~
Death
Probable age of death
20
Probably cause of death
COVID 19
Other likely causes
Heart Disease
Diabetes
Liver condition
Noteworthy funeral attendees
Trisha Patsy Vau, aged 19 -girlfriend
Virgil James Cull, aged 81 -friend
Basic Information
Name:
Robert Micheal Best
Nicknames:
Bobbie / Tall Robert
Reason for nicknames:
Derived from Robert / Descriptive
Date of birth:
Thursday, 6th Jan 2020 (Age 20)
Star sign:
Capricorn
Nationality:
British
Ethnicity:
Caucasian
Social class:
Middle class
Religion:
Atheist
Sexuality:
Straight
Education:
Some college
Course:
Sports science
Political views:
Far-left
Relationship status:
In a relationship with Trisha Patsy Vaughan
Career path:
Athletic/Profession Poet
a fiction write
6/24/20
WRITTEN WORDS BY James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
PANDEMIC (Renku) © by Trisha Sugarek
Four walls are a box
or four walls that nurture us
it is up to you
Four walls, dark cave or
four walls protect family
trap or safe abode
Four walls, set free or
four walls to fight against now
trapped with loved ones
T-he
R-egards
I-n
S-weetness
H-as
A-pplied
J-ovial
O-ccasion
I-mplementing
E-uphoria
O-f
D-ivine
O-ptimism
Topic: Birthday of Trisha Joie Odo (February 20)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
T-he
R-egards
I-n
S-cribe's
H-eartfelt
A-crostic
Y-ield
V-erse
O-f
N-ame
N-icely
E-mploying
G-irl's
O-ne
R-apturous
O-ccasion
S-o
P-oem
E-ntertains
Topic: Birthday of Trisha Yvonne Gorospe (February 01)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
T-he
R-esponder
I-s
S-eeing
H-ow
A-crostic
A-bout
N-ame
N-icely
E-mploys
V-erse
A-s
R-eader
G-azes
A-t
S-cribe
Topic: Birthday of Trisha Anne Vargas (May 29)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Haiku
to write haiku is
to distill to perfection
with only three lines
by Trisha Sugarek ©
Moths and Machetes
A Difference © Trisha Sugarek
to have eyes
is one thing
to see,
is quite another
to have ears is
normal
to listen,
an art form
to have a heart
is a necessity
to have heart,
glorious
to have two hands
ordinary
to have helping hands,
magnificent
to love someone,
some thing,
is nice
to love selflessly,
a miracle
to have self-awareness
essential
to have a soul
superb
October-2-2000
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins
The day you begin to live
Is the day you start to die
Things you see aren't what you believe
Even the first tear you cry
Is already the thing of the past
The hardest you try
You cant make the day last
The day you take your first breath
Is the day you gasp for air
Trying to figure out whats next
The sound of angels is what you hear
Before you know it you're old
So treat this day as it was your last
Because before you are told
You'll be the thing of the past
God put you through this test
To see if you pass
Soon enough you'll be putting your body to rest
The heart beat you heard it'll be over real fast
The devil will try to take your soul
But to let you see the light
God will make it his goal
To keep it shining bright
The day you begin to live
Is the day you start to die
So live your life like you want
Because getting older will soon be by your side
Soon enough you'll realize you'll see
Your ghostly soul will start to haunt
Here on this earth in person you'll no longer be
Copyright
The Farm ©
by Trisha Sugarek
Fields of mustard seed
as far and beyond the eye
the farm dogs return
dusted in yellow
The clapboard grey of the old
farm house stands in testimony of
generations of pea farmers,
hunters, fishermen, and cooks
Heady fragrance of a farm dinner
immerses the senses as the screen
door slaps open
The matriarchal voice sings out
‘tea party!’ A call to supper
And the city folk sit around a battered
and scared wooden table laden with
baked chicken, fried steak, mashed potatoes,
green beans and corn that hung from the
vine just minutes ago
Her biscuits and corn bread are the stuff that
dreams are made of
Later they all sit on the warped porch steps
and listen as the geese honk their way in to
the fields and their nightly time of respite
Bats fly across the moon, frogs call out their
secrets, a loon wails its loneliness
Warm smooth coils round
my head
scales tickle my forehead
I want to scratch
quick tongue laps my ear
The body moves… languid
like water over smooth rock
Or is the snake inside
my head?
Is there only one or many
seething and writhing?
Is the poison real or
imaginary?
If I move too fast or
think too fast
will it?…they…
strike?
If they strike will my death be
only in my mind?
If not entirely in my head
will anyone grieve?
Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets
The Farm ©
Fields of mustard
sway in a light breeze
off the river
farm dogs return
dusted in yellow
the clapboard gray of
the farmhouse
weeps old memories
generations of pea farmers,
hunters, fishermen and cooks
heady fragrance of cooking food
saturate the senses as
the screen door slaps shut
the matriarch sings out
‘tea party!
and the city folk sit ‘round a table
laden with baked chicken that was
pecking out a meal in the yard that day
fried venison steak and mashed potato
green beans and corn hanging from the vine
just minutes ago
her biscuits and cornbread; the stuff
dreams are made of
Later they sit on the warped porch steps
listening as the geese honk their way in
to the seed rich fields and
their nightly respite
bats fly across the moon,
frogs call out their secrets,
a loon wails its loneliness
old stories are told
Trisha Sugarek
Moths and Machetes
forever love ©
dance in a meadow
lovers whole in each other
no need for music
sun warm on our backs
creek singing in the background
hawk cries in the sky
warm lips sing the song
laughter lights a glow in eyes
sweet love sweet forever love
Trisha Sugarek
Moths and Machettes
Passage to Beyond
Our loved ones leave this world
softly fading
a secret smile playing
upon their lips
What do they see beyond the mist?
Is someone there? Waiting?
Others volunteer to disappear from this place
thinking it is the only solution
to their heart shattering
from events old and new
Seeking relief at any cost
no thought beyond this selfish act.
Others, beloved forever,
leave this plane in a rush of fire,
fear, fury and bravado
so careless of the ones left behind
to mourn, to miss, to try to
fit the pieces together again.
…..and if we watch...listen...very carefully
we will see....hear...our dead creeping back
to collect their footsteps.
Trisha Sugarek
Moths and Machettes
Sub Categories
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