Micropoetry

I am away from glory

To catch hold of lory

Survivor’s Guilt

(Note: written several months ago as part of the recovery process.) 

Hissing down Highway 1
in the rain,
Baltimore in the rear view.

Brushing against old pain
repressed for 20 years,
but suddenly bleeding
through my chest,
three grey hours ahead.

I wasn’t the one
who was sick, I said.
Not the one who died.
I was just the supporting cast
the nameless crew member
in the red tunic.

balance

balance

not sure how I got here
influenced by others
of course
the vanity of having a Ph.D. degree
to understand the nature of beings
to find the cure
meetings and people
competitions and deadlines
hiding my feelings and not showing
weakness
perfection in each moment
Stop, breath and listen
looking for freedom
I isolate myself
solitude and silence
writing outside the lines
messing up
letting my feelings explode
between colours and paper clips
to find a balance
to breathe my true-self
next day I’ll be ready
a smile on my face
a word of encouragement
a surprise of a new result
observing the miracle
inside a cell
keeping my words and feelings
for later on
when they will lay down
on a piece of paper

Slender Thread

Different time zones

different continents

different days,

some days….

Different morn and night

hard to tell sometimes…

The Sneaker 外岩の詩

Damselflies flutter about
Among the green, broad leafs
Above the mountain stream,
Darting through the river rocks
That make a natural bridge
To the mountain boulder field,
Where stone goliaths lie in wait.

Halfway up The Sneaker,
My love fights to hang on
To nothing more than a pebble:

On Missing You Too Soon

I find myself imagining
how the differences will
play out…
The unfamiliar,
lengthening silences,
stretching into the dusk.
The way dust devils will
gather in corners, waiting
for something that
will never come.

Epiphany

When the sun comes up like thunder

I knew a guy.
Cancer survivor,
worn down to the lacy bone,
thin, with dry skin.
But a light shone through
his stretched parchment skin
like some kind of
organic fire.
The brush with death
left a calling card.
“I’ll be back” it said.
“You won’t know when.”

YOU

You may be…
A needle in a haystack
A voice amidst noisy crowd
A star that hardly shines
A taste of finest whine

When in Sallow Form

Can you see me, a suggested expression,

one that does’t expect any reaction,

except to say,

go away,

for I am of another dimension.

Tea Time

Before I sit to cup of tea,
I look the choices over.
A dozen or so blends I see,

Outside Inside

Our inside output
Does not need
Your outside input

Last Day (2) – Senryu

Silence in the halls
A year becomes a memory
Time to move on

Quiet My Disquiet

Some days I feel on top of things and everyone’s content,
But then come days just like today—composure’s quickly spent.

Love Scars & Shipwrecks

by Debbie

      

Being shipwrecked on an island, standing alone in the sun

I realize the waves keep coming in one by one.

When you first left my life, it ripped a hole in me.

Funny it was huge to me but no one else could see.

Renewable Vow

I was 21 when I took the official vows,
but had really taken the important ones
some months earlier. When I proposed
on April Fools Day and she said ‘yes.’
And like two fools,
we thought that was just fine.
Turns out, nearly 50 years later, it was.

Mother

 

she’s an anvil

with every

pound of

his hammer a

strength is added

Working Vacation

After 60 years of work, more or less,
I’ve decided to take a working vacation.
I’m booking a cruise for the next 60 years
To go exploring along the coasts,
Poking my canoe up the inlets and rivers,
Probing the veins and wires and memories of
Some unfamiliar parts of me, and some
I’ve been missing for a while, to
Seeing whether there’s anything
Worth saving, or maybe just toss it all out.

As Though Each Were Your Last

Photo:When the sun comes up like thunder

“I just want to see how long the string is. This never gets old. It gets more interesting, actually.” — Keith Richards, Rolling Stones

Each day is here then gone, a brief chance to
roll the salt and savor of it on the tongue, to enjoy
each passing smile and twinkling eye and lovely curve,
reminding me I am still alive.
Teaching me why, in the now.

Each sunset red on the world,
a hint at what becomes of us all.

Chrysalis

.

There was once a caterpillar who stood there,

at the edge of the old hickory’s branch.

Cornflowers

.

Her skin is mottled blue,

like the halo that

graces her eyes.

Stars

 

Oh love, reach for my hand and heart;
lay me down on this earthen bliss–
swear forever under the stars.

End

I.

Roll up those muddy sleeves
and rinse all the fat sins.

‘In His Face I’

Scaling your expression
Scrutinizing your eyes
Does your heart beat?

moments and infinities

Let’s be happy today

Because today is a moment

We shall carve into history’s skin

So hold it within your palms

A drop of liquid gold sunshine

Trickling away to infinity

Old Enough

I saw a poster that asked a question
Is “old enough to know better” a time
It made me wonder if that age exists
Or is it just another reason to rhyme.

~ The Poets Epitaph ~

 

” when into the eyes of Death I stare
a poem will be forming there –
a lamp before my feet
as I climb that golden stair”…

 

O’Prunty

11/15/14

Introspect

(Girl by Rachel Roth, click to see more)

I wonder about the people around me

About their hidden faces, their jutting angles

About what their wrinkles, facets and scars hold

Sometimes I do not think about the little things at all

Of time, there isn’t enough

We cannot all afford to be dreamers,

 But dream, we must

*

Poetry Challenge: “Self-Portrait” – Just me

(via Pinterest)

Who can I be but me?

A spirit of a bird trapped in a cage

An old soul in a young shell

Living in a new world

A collection of old rock music

A shutterbug stuck in one place

Having hardly a face