Dear Robert Frost

Image is my own. Taken at the Hockney/ Van Gogh exhibit

VJ’s Weekly Challenge: roads – One Woman’s Quest II (onewomansquest.org)

Before this moment,

All roads coalesced into one,

The present, the now.

Then,

Seeing this wall of roads,

I cannot help but ask

Where each road would have, could have

Led.

Different places, people–

Certainly, yes.

The mind swirls,

Possibilities,

A Tilt-A-Whirl—

A daughter lost?

The fetal tissue of a son not lost?

A different daughter born?

A heart not broken by cancer?

All the rewinds and fast forwards

Of a life of lived down different roads

Of different choices made along each way–

All the differences of each win and loss

And every other thing implied by this wall

And dear Robert Frost—

 

The choices I’ve made

Gave me this now,

This daughter,

For whom I would give my life,

Rather than trade.

Periphery

Image is my own. Taken at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston

VJ’s Weekly Challenge: peripheral – One Woman’s Quest II (onewomansquest.org)

Periphery

The whitest teeth

Of one brother’s smile.

Hair so black

The curls shine blue,

My mother’s hair

A forehead with a line

Of slicked back black hair,

My real father.

Clark Kent glasses,

The frames of the coke

Bottle bottom glasses,

My other brother.

The whisper of an accent

mingles with scent of Old Spice cologne,

the man I thought was my father–

Fleeting things—

Such imagery captured briefly

In the corner of the senses

Some strange trick of heart and mind—

The mind’s empty, missing parts perhaps

Playing the trickster

With edges of the senses,

So we think we see, hear, smell

The seeds of things we grieve.

Images of the dead

Cannot be real.

Such things as ghosts

Do not exist.

These ephemeral flashes

Of the senses share no breath,

No grace of God gives life

To them as they melt away

Before a half breath

Can be taken.

So, I stood

Still

Afraid to breathe

Afraid to blink

Or let the tears

That gathered fall

When I saw

A lion’s mane of hair

As you tilted your head back

To smile—

For six years—

I had not seen you

Felt you

At all–

Until

I stood

Gazing at Van Gogh’s

Field with Irises near Arles–

Your favorite flower—

Irises–

and art you loved—

the first time

in six years,

I feel you nearby—

I am stilled—

Until

Someone else moves

Beside me,

A distraction,

And you are gone.

But you linger with me

Like a wonderful and strong

perfume

Evening Seeking

Image courtesy of thewowstyle.com
Weekend Writing Prompt #188 – Languid | Sammi Cox (wordpress.com)

 

The languid time of evening

Comes in flames,

Searching horizons

In their lazy, twisting way

For truths and hearts.

 

Forever searching

For another flaming heart

To serve as a twin

As if that could be found

In such languid searching

In slowing time

Between sunset and sunrise,

Each a prize of flame,

never finding another flaming heart.

The Witch of Frost

Image courtesy of Pinterest (Pathfinder)

I burned The Witch of Frost,

Melted away her power,

 

So–

 

I am no longer

Bewitched by frost

In chilling climes.

 

Neither am I

 

Spellbound by lighted

Fires of fake fantastical

Promises of ghosts—

 

Nor can I hear

 

Whispering words meant

To warm you against the frost

Of lies used to charm,

Bewitching you

Into believing

Frost’s chilling, icy burn

Is desire’s fire warming.

 

 

https://amanpan.com/2020/10/26/eugis-weekly-prompt-bewitched-october-26-2020/
https://onewomansquest.org/2020/10/26/vjs-weekly-challenge-119-frost/

Autumn Dawn

Image is my own
https://freeverserevolution.wordpress.com/2020/10/19/oct-4-ripples/

Ignoring the ripples doesn’t work,

Beautiful though they may be

In the early light of an autumn dawn.

 

The ripples return.

Their warmth long gone,

Drained of blood.

 

Injected with colors of autumn’s dawn,

They look full, alive with mysterious meaning.

 

But cold these ripples remain

In their return to me.

 

Time shifts,

Tilting beneath my feet.

 

I shutter and stare, a moment only—

I cannot weave these cold things

Into a useful thing, resembling you.

Chains of Fears

Image courtesy of Tumbler
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/10/17/weekend-writing-prompt-179-lucid/

Lucidity picks at the chains wrapped round a soul

Anchored to the ground of fears bought whole

In the marketplace while traipsing through dreams

Resplendent with beauty and flights of fanciful imaginings

That harsh noisy words and bruising blows etched,

Tattooed lucid fears.

Mystical Fields

Image courtesy of Superiorwallpapers.com
https://amanpan.com/2020/10/05/eugis-weekly-prompt-mystical-october-5-2020/

Meet me in the field

Where heather sways with the wind

Through time we will live.

 

Life, never a friend,

Kept us from knowing true joy,

Meet me in the field,

 

Where loss is gaining

And grief blossoms into joy

Meet me where gold grows.

Musings on the Cracked Crystal Ball

Image courtesy of Aliexpress
https://amanpan.com/2020/09/28/eugis-weekly-prompt-crystal-ball-september-28-2020/

When you found the things you could,

A mist of breath showed in the rain,

Twin clouded rain shimmered colors

Of gray stone before you on a path you would go.

If only, if only, you should know the bones of us,

Move knotted stiff with the griefs you’ve piled upon your soul,

We’d glow of phosphorus and neon in velvet darkness.

Walking the dark, shadowed canyon of dreams

Wilted by disappointments and deflated sunshine

Waking to dimmest daylight at noon

Where you cannot bear to look

Upon your own reflection,

A sight of horror in your own eyes now

In that cracked crystal ball where you stand,

In your own self-consecrated field

Of plastic flowers bowing their majestic heads to you,

Your straw haired head is bowed,

Smiling at the ground.

No Disaster

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.com
https://godoggocafe.com/2020/09/08/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-tuesday-september-8-2020/
 

As if I’d eaten some ancient grain

Meant for those of a long dead warrior hearted strain

I strengthen myself with tears. 

 

Over the bare years

Only you knew innocence

Truth, ruin in seas–

 

Imagined decades

No time for flowers and aches

Realize in drifting

 

Down years– no disaster

Were you in the end,

We were just a moment.

A Crown of Thorns for You

Image courtesy of Flickr
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/08/22/weekend-writing-prompt-171-impact/

The impact of broken glass shards–

A mistake with need to drip blood.

Make a presence known of parts

Marred and greetings sent

For what they would take,

Staking once again the claim

To snatch away, drain  

Blood from a soul

Needed to adorn

Her ego’s bleached crown,

A haystack of needles

Pricking the fingertips,

A crown of thorns in reverse,

She claims its softness for you.