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Poem: Evaporation

glass tumbler
fully coolly
overly brimming
perceptively placed
for nocturnal
sip missions
I rest
restlessly
wrestling
tiresome
daemons

tossing turning
tousled
in yearning
wry morpheus
still spurning
till burning
parched morning
enters my room
yells
“DAMMIT ARISE!”
— I comply

glass tumbled
empty of life
I Lazarus shamble
seeking cold
porcelain relief

fully flushed
I am now
less than I was
and no more
than a drop
in the ocean that is…

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Poem: Hard Edges

late breakfast
on her porch
we prattle
enjoying June breeze
meandering memories
of who we once were
and might have been

we wander her garden
geraniums growing green
pausing to pluck
pink peonies
into a paper
coffee cup
scooping water from
the crumbling koi pond
trailing muffin crumbs
and fresh wishes
in the fading dew.

Ramble: I Miss You Mom

Happy Birthday Mom.

Yes I know you are gone. Yes I know.
Here is a reblog of the emptiness left when the ones we love leave this reality behind.

merlinspielen

I haven’t posted for a while because my Mom was in and out of the hospital in the last month, and on January 16 she peacefully passed away. Free at last from the many years of struggle with her health. 

It is strange how we create a routine out of the obligations of life. A pattern is shaped from necessity and reluctantly overlaid. Eight years ago my father died, and my mom asked me to come see her more often. At first it was every other week. Somewhere in there it became a weekly visit. Usually on a Saturday, I’d be up by 6am and on my way. The 2-hour drive a quiet pleasant meditation through lovely Ontario country-side. A stop for a coffee. Sometimes a pause for walk on a trail.
I’d stop at the grocery store along the way and get what was needed, And arrive at my…

View original post 272 more words

Poem: I Promise Nothing

I promised you nothing
and I promptly delivered
exquisitely forged
wrapped in leftovers
from the Emperor’s new robes

You remain unhappy
hungry with expectation
in the same way my cat
greets each morning
full of purring and rubbing
mewling to have
your emptiness filled

I promised you nothing
and you promptly begged
for just a little bit more
offering me nothing in return

The truth is
your honey nothing
is better than mine.

 

Ramble: Pointless

Dawn.
Wet.

Cold in my bones. Damnit.

I’ve been at this for years now and look where I am.

Same place. Different day. Running faster. Slipping back.

Why did I dream?
Pointless hope. Pointless words. Pointless points.

There is no coffee left in my cupboards.