Are We Ever Too Old??

For Poets and Storytellers

Friday Writings

(me .. a while back)

when c.s. lewis whispers

"you are never too old to set

another goal or to dream

a new dream"

i nod ~ stretch my hips

and start planning 

something outrageous ..

a designer wardrobe ~ a brand new city

a new love ~ maybe

[ if he's got good hearing,

can dance and carry a tune ]

after all it feels like i'm 

just getting warmed up!

 

~~ A HUGE IF~~

 For Poets and Storytellers

Friday Writings ~~ Hammer / Teeth / Blooms

photo ~ Lori Crawford

if i held a hammer

i would not raise it for war

but strike a steady rhythm

on the door of every heart

i would use my teeth, voice, mouth

to bite through the overwhelming silence

speak whenever weary souls are forgotten

smile broadly when morning returns

if i carried blooms

i would scatter them 'cross barren fields

not as trophies of victory

but as promises planted in our soil 

Scarlet Fever

Time for Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Lillian is hosting ~ she asks us to bring our crayons, its' time to color poetry!!! Found my box of 64, reworked an oldie.

Christopher Shay ~  Red Umbrella

midnight in Bangkok

behind a camouflaged door 

where deals are done 

bargains struck, goods exchanged 

head down, shoulders hunched, walk away

with your precious stash of hash 

tucked inside that tiny scarlet bag

 smoke it, blow it, get on with it, it's your life

but you will need that lovely red umbrella

 

for all the rainy nights in Bangkok

Poof ~ Gone

Time to dance the Quadrille with the folks enjoying the evening in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ De is hosting ~ the magic word is "myth"

 you seek a mortal form

yet find fresh air

sweet fleeting myth that lingers everywhere

i walk as whispers thru ancient trees

a phantom traced in starlight 

and in a breeze i never lived

yet somehow i remain

your perfumed dream

dissolving in the rain

This Would Be Me

 Melissa is hosting Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ our poetic challenge ~ the ‘unpunctuated’ poem.

while others dive 

beneath blankets

counting seconds between 

flash and boom

i fling open 

the curtains

hostess with the 

mostest

thunder arrives wearing 

muddy boots

lightning shows off like 

my cocky cousin at a reunion

and i sit there grinning

the neighborhood oddity 

with weather in her heart

it's called ceraunophilia

which sounds suspiciously 

like a tropical disease

but it simply means

when the sky throws 

a tantrum

i feel strangely at home

in my element

And So It Was

Time for Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Laura requests we choose a line from Dylan Thomas, compose an acrostic using each of the words ~ let our imaginations wander. During a family reunion years ago many stories of my maternal grandparents were shared ~ my acrostic is imaginary and only hope it would ring true if they could read it.

I chose a line from one of my Dylan Thomas favorites "The Fern"

"In the sun that is young once only"

Wikipedia

IN

the first wild summer of your kiss

i believed the moon itself leaned close to listen

certain youth would never fade

THE

roses climbed our windows without shame

sweet crimson mouths opening as we laughed

while time stood barefoot in the garden

SUN

poured gold upon your hair

love burned quick as butterflies took  flight

beautiful because they could not stay

THAT 

autumn found us quiet

holding hands through storms 

learning devotion has a steady flame

IS

it not strange how young love dazzles the eye

yet older love becomes the hearth itself

the place weary souls return to warm their hands

YOUNG

our promises beneath trembling stars

age taught us the truer vow

to remain when beauty alters its face

ONCE

i feared the silver in your hair

until i saw how tenderly the years

had etched mercy into your smile

ONLY 

now do i understand romance

not the swift fire but the glowing ember

that survives the longest winter .. and still gives light

LET THEM ~ LET ME

Mish is tending bar today in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Her inspiration? Mel Robbins and the philosophy she follows! 

it took me forty years

to stop rearranging my soul

to make other people comfortable

years of ironing opinions flat

serving apologies warm

nodding at nonsense

i spent too many years

trying to earn gold stars from folks

who could not find their own joy

and then somewhere between

reading glasses and forgetting

why I walked into the kitchen

i discovered the holiest phrase

gifted to women

"let them"

let them whisper

let them think i may laugh too hard that

i'm too old for bright colors, bold patterns

here i stand wrinkled, wiser

harder to shame

easier to delight

let them misunderstand me

underestimate me

roll their eyes

i am unapologetically myself

after so many years

"let them"

Something About This Tree

 

For Friday Writings ~ Poets and Storytellers United

Ghost Tree

in my imagination

 

it has leaves

alive

in my reality

its beauty astounds

something magical about a ghost

On Mother's Day my Family and I celebrated with a late lunch at a restaurant with a great outdoor eating space. Right next to our table was a large tree that looked "dead" to me. It was explained they are called Ghost Trees and used frequently to enhance landscapes. Literally moved from wherever they are, transported to their new homes. Roots secured within a concrete base deep into the ground. This tree was simply beautiful and silly me didn't take a photo. Which meant a return for more of their tasty food! Which I did.

Hot Time in 'Chi-Town'

 

De reminds us it's time for Quadrilles in the dVerse Poets Pub ~  Inspiration?  “This One’s Gone to the Dogs”.

I'm snowbound in Terminal Three

with canceled flights trapping poor me

this blizzard roars loud thru the night

while the crowd grows surly, (might fight ?) 

... and a Hot Dog keeps calling to me

they're always quite messy to eat 

this gastronomic treat can't be beat 

when O'Hare shuts the whole world away

those hot dogs will rescue the day

** first comes the "dog" in a steamed poppy seed bun, toppings are layered in a "specific" order: yellow mustard, neon green relish, chopped white onion, tomato wedges, a dill pickle spear, pickled peppers and finally a sprinkle of celery salt.

For Friday Writings #227

 Rommy supplied poets with several memorable lines from The Princess Bride, encouraging us to choose one as inspiration for our poems. [we also had the option of choosing  another line from the movie]  I chose Westley saying to Buttercup "hear this now: I will always come for you"  

** As You Wish **

Even if delayed by dragons, rain

or a goose with territorial issues ..

I shall arrive dramatically windblown

Hear this now: I will always come for you.

Just For Fun!

  Bjorn has us concentrating on lists today in the dVerse Poets Pub ~~ I felt like being contrary.

Lists bore me to tears

it's freedom I seek

the great out of doors

{ like fording a creek }

I've a list of twelve chores

wouldn't you know

can't find where I put it

{ I'll go with the flow }

At my advanced age

it really won't matter

creating those  lists

{ like thoughts, they will scatter }

Join me now friends

just crumple that list

let's meet at town's square

{ you get my gist }

We're going to have fun

those projects can wait

there's always tomorrow

{ now don't you be late! }

White Space

Time for Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ May in India is a month when there are art exhibits ~ many of them. Punam provided us with several lovely art pieces as inspiration for our poems. 

the distance of mind from reality

is white space framing 

every thought every action

crossing borders best left uncrossed

as if caution tape were woven

through the bloodstream

as if memory itself 

required permits

i stand at the checkpoint

holding a passport made of weather

yesterday stamped with invisible ink

tomorrow refusing my photograph

 

Take A Chance

sometime in the late 70's

take a chance, take a chance, take a chance 

is chanted [rapidly] during this ABBA song

my little quartette got all tongue-tied

then we began to giggle 

giggles soon turned into guffaws

we had to leave the stage

talk about embarrassing

Listen to the song, you will soon understand!

Beauty Surrounds

Merril has us swooning over an image of roses in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ she has  shared a list of names bestowed on the beauties ~ next come poems using a few of those names.     

Sunrise we greet ~ Summer Song sweet
Wind Rush and Sea Foam wherever we roam
Tangles that bind ~ Quicksilver mind
Restless we wander far from our home

No Surrender calls through the long night
White Wings are lifting our hearts into flight
Ebb Tide is pulling ~ soft and untrue
tell me oh tell me ~ will it be you

Peace like a whisper we never quite keep
drifting between us in shadow and sleep

*** If you are into music, 

my poem's rhythm should read 

like a waltz, a 6/8 time signature. 

Think the theme song from Outlander.

https://youtu.be/0pyRbHzWCAQ

A Barrage of Books!

this is the home library

of a good and great friend

his library speaks volumes

[ pardon the pun ] 

those who love him

label him 'a hoarder'

[ in the most gentle of tones ]

the beauty of his quasi Dewey Decimal system ~

he knows exactly where to find what he seeks

even though it may rest 

in a stack on the floor or on dining room table

this historic home was built in 1902

quite close to the 1904 World's Fair site

rumour has it dignitaries from Europe 

rented the home for 

weeks at a time during the Fair ~

if they could see it now!

Downcast, Not Broken

Time for Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub .. Melissa has us focused on the art of  Gerard Sekoto, born in 1913 in South Africa .. our challenge .. compose an ekphrastic poem!

Woman With Downcast Eyes, 1955

I carry the morning on my shoulders 

heavy as the tin roof trembling in the wind

some days the dust calls me by name

coating my skin

settling in my breath

how much of this world

am I willing to swallow?

I walk with eyes lowered

not in shame but in study

I have learned to stitch hope

from the smallest of threads

a child's laughter, the blooming jacaranda

Let them say the world is unkind

let them say the load is too much

I will carry it anyway

step by step

breath by breath

Unfinished Business

Rosemary [ Friday Writings ] asks we respond to a provocative question:

 "This world has no meaning. Why fucking bother?” 

Also Submitted to Lisa and the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Open Link Night

'The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep'. ** Robert Frost **

you ask me why, why bother at all?

i have stood in that question's shadow

in a world that shrugs at meaning 

should i forget the sound 

of my own footsteps

it will only grow louder

the woods are lovely, dark, and deep

but i haven't come this far

to lie down in them just yet

meaning is not found ..

it is made in the small

insistence "of staying"

so why bother?

because my story is not done

because love has not released me

because there are miles before me

i walk them, shoulders back

gloriously awake