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My Fear Came True

A poem

Photo by Meghan Hessler on Unsplash

There had been a gap of years
now you wore spectacles, flecks of gray
at your temples, but still you

You spoke of shadows in your mind
the need for light.
 We reminisced
so much to laugh about, a friend indeed

I scanned the local paper each time
“Man found dead” fearing the fear
until last night, tracking through

I found your obituary, yet saw it not
thinking it was for your daughter
then comprehending for you both

You had been a man found dead
but you’re no statistic, not to me
You were a good friend, father, brother, son

Farewell is late, yet I recall you easily
the tangled years fade away, we laughed
I will always see you laughing, free from shade

Published in The Lark

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Like Star Dust

A poem

Photo by Blair Fraser on Unsplash

You seemed to fall out of the sky
into my life, wanting to die
I took you, loved you, taught you,
your eyes seemed like star dust

Glittering sadly, tears never far away
unworthy of being loved inside

I tried to turn that tide
to hold on to the star dust

So fragile, yet so brave not knowing
how you should behave in company
that cost you your freedom from the past
I’m really missing the star dust

Published in The Lark

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Dry

A poem

Photo by Mockup Graphics on Unsplash

I am dry, I am telling you, my friend
Dry as sticks in the desert
Ready to burn for warmth in the night

I am dry from bleeding my worry
She could have died, do you realize
I am dry as a dead tree

No leaves, no sap
Hollow on the inside
Dry as straw lying in the sun

Waiting to be gathered
I am dried out from hearing of death
In war zones, in gun-toting lands
Where the bullet is king

Dried from the news of children killed
I am dry, don’t you hear me
Women raped, men raped

War crimes, suicide, murder
Dried from pouring my love out
Like an oasis, but effect no change

I am dry I cry out to anyone who’ll hear
Dried by what humans do to humans
In war, in jail, in the system

I am dry and can be dry no more

Published in The Lark

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The Poem Writer

A poem

Photo by Nicolas Messifet on Unsplash

Snapshots of the street in word pictures
memories of longing and heartache
words that can make a person’s heart break

Pictures of a family life on the page
generations recalled with nostalgia
journeys made in iambic pentameter

Writing in rhyme does not a poet make:
it is the observing, the feeling, empathy
caring enough to pen the difficulty

Maybe moody, or not, but thoughtful, yes
mulling thoughts over, writing drafts,
wood piling the words that make mes
s

Telling it slant, as Dickinson once said
from this angle or that, or both at once
writing tight, not wasting a word that’s laid

Performn’t sacrifice a poem for the rhyme
words paint the image, not the slime

of sugar sweet saccharine sounding lines

Alliteration is one big part, the rhythm too
but rhyme can make the picture a shame
doggerel written in all but name

Who writes the poem, is an observer
of nature, trees, birds, the human condition,
writes truth and then it is no longer theirs

Published in Lifeline

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Counting Stars

A poem

Photo by guille pozzi on Unsplash

The lush shade was so inviting
after the scorch of day
a place that looked inviting
Here tonight I could safely lay

I dreamt I could lay there
with you together there
we could count the stars

The night was cool and refreshing
but thorns scratched my soul
nowhere I would safely lay
I dreamed we would lay there

Both of us lay there, hand in hand
And we would count the stars

Published in The Lark

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Drowned

A poem

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

At one in the morning, thereabouts,
you fell overboard and started to fight
Fight for your life, drowning

Your friend, did he push you in jest?
Relaxed by booze, you slid under
never to breathe again, your friend

Will live with that all his life, regret,
ten days before your remains were found
your mother, how will she ever stand again?

Published in The Lark

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Flowers Dance

A poem

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

My garden is full of flowers,
they dance a graceful waltz
with the breeze, with butterflies
most of all with bees

Flowers dance in sunlight
flirting with music unseen,
listen, you hear it, will-o-wisp
pollen gathering meanwhile

How much sunlight is contained
in that small drop of dew?
gleaming so brightly, beaming
on the leaf below the bloom

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Dusk

A poem

Photo by Kristijan Arsov on Unsplash

Dusk at another airport
One can see the heat hanging
A yellow orb is low in the sky

Slowly turning to egg yolk
And then mango

Sinking slowly as a goodbye
Turning the color of oranges
Finally some red markings
As that sun drops away
Minutes pass, the clouds celebrate
With pink, pale red, apricot, and aqua

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Angel

A poem

Photo by Diego Rosa on Unsplash

The layered bridesmaid petticoat
you wore as an angel, no, fairy,
everywhere we went, wand and wings

To me you are an angel, no, fairy
in my mind before your birth
feely came with you everywhere

Feely got irretrievably lost one day
my woebegone, sad angel, no, fairy
a lion so soft arrived, you named him Niamh

You are no longer small in petticoat
you wore always, my angel, no, fairy
so I am homesick now my angel

I smuggled Niamh into the wash sometimes
you waited for him to smell just right
held to your face, my sweet angel

I’m homesick for driving around to find Niamh
before him, feely, my angel, no, fairy
homesick for you my sweet angel

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Brave

A poem

Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

I think you are brave to keep living
when you don’t know how anymore
when the odds are stacked so heavily

I think you are strong to keep smiling
when the waves keep crashing in
when the pain will not give up

I think you are wise to stop caring
what the thoughts of others are
accepting what cannot be changed

I think you are brave to keep being you
when so much wants to destroy you
dignified in the mess of humans

I think you are beautiful despite
the scars, the symptoms, the pain
when no one understands anything of you

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Fall Into Winter

My Silver Birch tree finally changes leaves to gold
green remained long after fall told it was here
flowers bloom still, colors in array
abuse of the atmosphere is something we will pay

A cold snap last weekend chilled my heart
winter winds work their way with driving rain
the damp dankness depresses my lungs
I thrive only in fine dry warm weather, wellness there

The coming winter fills me with dread, yet happy I choose to be
misery may love company, but company will soon flee
each day brings birth to joy in life
I will not stress, strain the time or lose myself in strife

Published by Lifeline

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Moonlit Imagines

Moon, you followed me every place I went
yet you are fading away from Earth
only eight inches thus far, but further?

Moon, you are my true love, soft Light you bring
we forget to celebrate you, except the Chinese
how sad for you, so you are departing us

Moon, if I could beg you to stay, my tears would not win
you must do as you feel right, as I keep
my gaze on your sphere, as we spin on Earth

Published by Under The Moon