Poetry Here (Mostly)

Posts tagged ‘Relationships’

Patience and Fortitude


When Fahrenheit rose uncomfortably

up several degrees internally,

thermometer neared one hundred and two,

the abnormal heat caused my shivers too.

Decided to follow voices I’d read,

fever burns virus until it is dead,

without those pharmaceutical effects

that can cause kidney or liver defects.

“Won’t take medicine, are you serious?

Perhaps, illness has made you delirious.”

“Look, I’m still taking my blood pressure pill,

and adhere to multi-vitamin drill.”

I moaned at well-intentioned suggestions,

and groaned rather than answer his questions.

I allowed sickness to follow its course,

slowly got better, and am not divorced.

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Lost and Found


Milwaukee, where did I leave my sweater?
Wished for it in Macinaw’s cool weather.
Yes, Minnesota, that’s his stray, black sock,
Albuquerque, use my tube of sunblock;
from nylon bag, eat fruit, read magazines.

We didn’t misplace the laptop or phones
glad to be back, but I miss my best comb.
His pillow stayed in bed in Chicago.
We had too darn much traveling cargo,
lost track as we journeyed from scene to scene.

But, didn’t lose each other, a big feat,
after four days in an Amtrak sleeper,
hours and hundreds of driven car miles,
always together, two weeks plus a while.
Now, with hotel soaps and lotions we teem.

The Vase


Algebra factors bored

friends who preferred baseball

thrown and caught, high and low,

through the heart of the house

that pounded hit and miss.

Venetian hand-blown glass,

glazed warm with memories,

Modigliani necked,

graceful, fragile icon,

broke like a shattered dream.

Dad took Ben’s mitt and ball,

grounded, Ben could not play,

did homework on his own.

What lesson did he learn?

It hurts when your Mom cries.

Aside

Beyond Questions


Will a spirit fly when freed or,

may it linger at death’s closed door,

listening, peeping through the keyhole?

 

Watch funeral, hear eulogies,

or flee from sad faces and tears,

does a spirit still have a heart?

 

Do the dead rush with warm welcome

when a spirit newly arrives,

are reunions always happy?

 

If a spirit may sleep, can dreams

transmit positive messages

to console the living who mourn?

After the Visit


 

Even as he pulls into my driveway,

and I’m happy that safely he is here,

inside I struggle with negative

projections that to him I don’t reveal.

 

Each day passes fast, then his visit ends.

Resigned, I’m on the porch to watch as he

packs his blue car with bags and gifts to take.

No tears, I will wave him out of my view.

 

I must not focus on such visions now

that he has just arrived, we have not hugged,

must reacquaint, me and this man, my son,

so tall, so bright his brain and smile, my boy.

 

Though when he departs, an adult again,

I’ll linger in his room, still cluttered but

then empty, and there I’ll write new poems

that fill space but do not lose the echo.

Problem with Eating Outside


Where the lonely path widened

enough for a picnic place,

they cuddled on a blanket,

a cozy and private world

that freed their inhibitions

and released confidences.

 

The stars encouraged brilliant

points of view, and sparkling wine

made life together rosy.

Intoxicated plans built

a heaven where they took turns

being the sun, then the moon.

 

Sandwiches and promises,

then they parted company,

both had to get up early.

But each tossed, turned, felt heartburn,

when they could not quite digest

one another’s baloney.

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