For this week’s prompt, write an appointment poem. Could be a doctor’s appointment, an appointment with a literary agent, or a dentist’s appointment (which is enough to get my boys scared stiff). Don’t miss your appointment with poetry this week. Poem, poem, poem!
Here’s my attempt at an appointment poem:
“Appointment”
We meet beneath the stars, though we call them
daggers reminding us why we sneak out
in the first place. This park, with its swings and
silence, keeps us shielded from our parents–
so afraid we’ll repeat their mistakes they
hold us apart in the day, but now we
have our chance to play and now we have our
chance to play. Now we have our chance to play.
*****
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*****
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WHITE CHRYSANTHEMUMS
A week of scissors cutting fabric, circuits
of standing/turning while Mother pins up hems;
the practicing of lines: “Sad Philomel,”
she has trouble with the f-and p-sounds, “pours forth…
Plaint’s” – the word’s a canyon between her
and Pageant-day, her appointment
with the stage. At bedtime, by glow of night-
light she dons her cardboard head-dress,
jewels of the crown in every precious color
of cough drops from the drugstore shelf.
Nightingale Princess, white chrysanthemums
already wilted with anticipation.
Meet Me Tomorrow
by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
Meet me tomorrow
at my favorite berry patch
with pail and leather gloves in hand,
berry time rolls round but once a year,
I shan’t miss out this time.
Oh no, I shan’t miss out this time.
Raspberries, Logans, Marions too
Boysens, Himalayas, and Evergreens,
Blackcaps, Black Butte,
Black Diamonds, Black Pearls,
my State’s berries rules all!
Chehalem, Olallie,
Obsidian and Metolius
Cascade, Pacifica,
Kotata and Siskiyou,
there’s a reason Oregon’s the leading
commercial producer in the world!
Some are thornless
while others pack a wallop
some tart, some sweet, off the vine
full of fiber and anti-oxi’s, and
enough nutrients to choke a bear,
they’ll tolerate poor soil
colonize ditches & vacant lots
feed birds, caterpillars and deer
then turn right around with their
deep purple black, woodsy flavor
spoon into our mouths
pies, jams, and cobblers
salads and smoothies
ice cream and muffins
the size of a Pinata!
So meet me tomorrow
at my favorite berry patch
with pail and leather gloves in hand,
berry time rolls round but once a year,
and I shan’t miss out this time as I’ve
a date with some blackberry wine!
© 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
I’LL MEET YOU THEN
(I’LL SEE YOU THERE)
(c) 2012 – G. Smith (BMI)
———————————————————-
I’ll meet you then,
I’ll see you there,
When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
We’ll spend our days,
In joyful praise,
When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
There’ll be no sorrow,
We’ll cry no tears;
There’ll be no worries,
We’ll have no fears.
There’ll be no sickness,
Nor heartache and pain;
When Jesus comes to meet us,
He’ll call us all by name.
So,I’ll meet you then,
I’ll see you there,
When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
We’ll spend our days,
In joyful praise,
When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
That lame will walk,
The blind will see;
The deaf will hear the trumpet sound,
The prisoner’s will go free.
We’ll stand hand in hand,
With those we’ve loved,
Who’ve gone on before us,
To be with Jesus up above.
So I’ll meet you then,
I’ll see you there,
When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
We’ll spend our days,
In joyful praise,
When Jesus calls to meet us in the air;
When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
This is wonderful. Yes, I will meet you there.
I guess mine is a “non-appointment” poem. Once again I used the the Sunday Whirl’s weekly Wordle challenge and incorporate a bank of twelve words into my poem: last, nine, final, refresh, gassed, line, number, evidence, bare, smooth, shift, gear.
August Vacation
Last leg of the nine-hour drive,
final fling of the summer -
pull into the rest stop
to refresh – bathroom break,
a cold drink – get the car gassed up,
check the map one more time.
Hit the interstate again -
stay alert, don’t let the white lines
mesmerize you. Let the numbers
tick on the odometer, evidence
that you’re farther from home.
All your appointments are behind you,
day-planner forgotten on your desk,
its blocks for next week left bare.
Put on your cruise control
prepare for a smooth arrival,
downshift and stay in that lower gear
for at least seven days.
I’ve posted mine at http://miskmask.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/the-appointment/
Last Day of Summer
It’s come to this
the last day of summer
when the blue moon has fallen
and the storm has passed.
Yesterday the flood receded,
leaving raw new gullies
and fallen frames,
but this morning is bright
and it’s time for you to go.
Lovely.
Last appointment.
And here we are.
It was always going to be this moment
No getting away from it.
Under all I did
everyone I knew,
all the love, hate, indifference,
you were waiting.
You are the definitive inexorable,
fate accomplished;
the line drawn under
me.
I hear my family crying,
I know they will survive.
I hope they know how much I love them.
But now it is our time.
Appointment
As long as it’s not an appointment with doom,
I look forward to walking into any room.
But an appointment with my pillow
is always the best.
I have no idea what waits on the other side
to jolt my memory, give me fair warning,
or play tricks on my mind.
Will it be travel, new friends, meeting Hollywood stars,
fearful sights, or a night I can fly?
As long as I can keep reality in check,
this is one appointment I like best.
Commitments to Oneself Can Be The Loosest
My client is too flexible, too nice.
There’s such a thing as being tractable
to a fault. I’ve rescheduled more than thrice,
screwed the agenda, trashed the timetable,
and generally made work unworkable.
I wonder if I’m going to pay a price,
or if what’s still gotten done will suffice
to keep the whole endeavor viable.
The problem is we’re both creatives, and
things get done without meeting—or meaning.
Separately, we follow our distractions:
I play turn after turn of Words With Friends
while, on the other side, I roam, gleaning
a poem from these random meditations.
I love this! So true!
Appointment
I have an appointment with myself,
One that I have been avoiding,
In time, for the sake of time.
The visitor I am greeting
Is one of great patience
And has a countenance of softness.
This person is kind and staid
Full of wisdom and good nature,
Understanding and great mirth.
She is the tree upon which
I climb and swing upside down
In the summer sun, counting birds.
Of all the days
to be running late
my mind is in a haze
unable to contemplate
what I am about to do.
An audition to be a guide.
I must let my public speaking fear
subside.
Step out of my box to appear
anew.
In my opinion it went horrible
well at least in part.
It may have been deplorable
but full of heart
Too.
Maybe next time
I will be ready
perhaps with a rhyme
on feet steady.
What a break through.
SEEING MIMI
The words were gone! The hour was late.
Please, God, don’t seal my fate.
She coaxed, she wrote, she smiled, she explained.
A bit of tea and a bite of scone and Mimi the friend,
The petite francaise, Mimi the editor was done.
The pages scooped up with my heart-felt good-bye.
But somewhere on the street they must lie.
Perhaps by Mouffetard; by Port Royale no more!
I had already stepped through my apartment door.
The words were gone! The hour was late.
Please, God, don’t seal my fate.
In my hard metal chair I sat, ready for the vagaries of French
History to get at. Not one page, not two, not three or four.
No, twenty pages of French by hand were no more.
The words were gone! The hour was late!
Please, God, don’t seal my fate.
God, are you there? Can you help me through?
It’s due tomorrow. What can I do?
I raised my head from silent prayer. Oh how did I start?
First sentence where are you? Which quote? Which page?
What book are you in? If I find you I can begin.
The words were gone! The hour was late!
I raised my head, my eyes were guided by fate.
To the first book where they fell
The words came rushing out of my pen in a swell.
Twenty pages in one fell swoop. From memory,
In French, twenty pages, reproduced.
The words had been gone. The hour was late.
But I had learned that God is great.
Whoa.
Wow.
Riveting, compelling … I felt your anxiety, and the triumph. True story??
Thank you, Marie. Yes, It is true. I “ran away” to Paris when I was 40 to get my MA in French. It was so hard to make my brain crank out those papers. I was hysterical when I realized I had lost my paper. I had books open all over my table in a panic, trying to figure what to do. And yes, after praying, my eyes fell on the right book with the quote I had used in the first paragraph of my paper, and I recalled it all to memory and wrote it again by hand; non-stop. A small thing maybe. But it is an answered prayer I will never forget.
The early evening dew
crept up blades of grass
and crawled across the rock wall
beneath me as I waited. I waited
for what seemed hours
with breath short in my chest,
rustling the autumn leaves above
with each respiration.
The moon
peered low beneath wisps of clouds
waiting as well to see if you’d really come.
Though at your silhouette’s promenade
I’m certain,
the stars began to shine,
for the first time.
http://laughinghereonearth.blogspot.com
i keep re-reading this, captivated by the imagery. thank you.
Beautiful. And I love the name of your blog.
JOY RIDE
I’d go with you but it’s so long a drive. I’d go
but shade keeps winking under oaks. The sheep
are sleeping and the dog’s awake, the wagon’s
resting on its rusty spokes, and honey bees
are goldening their hive. I’d go with you, if just
for old-times’ sake. But I’ve appointments,
there’s so much to do – I’ve got a date with
summer. Mother Earth is spinning sunbeams,
and the sky is blue. A poem calls me for a stanza
break.
i love absolutely everything about this!
This is wonderful!
I’m with julie e. and SharoninDallas. Taylor, do you EVER write a word – a syllable – that isn’t poetic elegance?
Hi all – I am sure there is a wealth of wonder here … am now ready for my appointment:
a wonderful night of reading…
The Best Laid Plan
Perhaps it was
a morphine misunderstanding
when he came home
from hospital
showered
shaved
dressed in a fresh
short cotton robe
and slipped like a
letter into an envelope
between
Crisp white linens
arranged with as
much precision
as a king of ancients
piled upon
heaps of creased
white pillows
sunshafts playing
the silver threads
in his black hair
Perhaps it was
a morphine
misunderstanding
that when he looked
about the room from
face to loving face
he would simply
royally nod,
close his eyes
and thus signaled
exit
On his terms
his time
rather than
open his eyes
time after time
through eleven days
and eleven nights
to ask with
Whispered wonder
whirling into
imperial impatience
“Why – am – I – still – here?”
Morphine misunderstanding
Or grand finale
His heart danced, dipped
and leapt again
For eleven days and
Eleven nights
She sung
Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
Magic of the Night, Bring Him Home,
I Dreamed A Dream, Summertime
In a continuous loop
until her throat rang rasped raw
Combed his hair with cologne
wet his lips with balm
walked to the edge of
the abyss with him
watched from behind
his shoulders at him seeing
the Universe spread
infinitely before him
poised to step off
Only to be returned
Again, and again and again
Rested with the crescendo
of Sibeilus, Tchaikowsky,
crashing the walls of her
mind as he raised graceful
arms and conducted
in silent connected concert
until
the sudden scent of apricots
filled the room
And he smiled
the smile of kings
and left on a sigh
acknowledging
Universal
incompetence
reconciled and forgiven
Fin
“morphine misunderstanding” and “the sudden scent of apricots” finishing with “universal incompetence”…..WOW.
Yes, and “… seeing the Universe spread infinitely before him
poised to step off
Only to be returned
Again, …”
Marie.. Yes this one has some actuality to it… So delighted that you were there with me
Aw Julie… you really are with me here.. my favorite phrases cited. Thanks so very much for the WOW!
)))
Just A Regular Appointment
Routine –
they planned on lunch
after
Routine –
just a rule out
protection
Routine
these things almost
always benign
Unless they’re not
routine
at
all
Blecch! Took a friend to one of these appointments– really well said!
(i actually felt myself hold my breath at the end of your poem.)
Oh thanks so very much Julie… will stop by at your site.. I am so delighted I stopped back in and read your comment!
STOOD UP
Time and tide were kept waiting
while you stood, debating whether
your heart and mind were of the kind
to join forces. As a matter of course
you quit horsing around and bound
down dressed in your finest; the nines
and then some. And you come
to the decided place. Your face drops
and your stop in your tracks.
This meeting lacks ambiance
and allure. But mostly, it lacks her.
I love this!
Nobody,
but nobody
can touch your style, Walt. Your subtle rhymes detract nothing from the sensitivity and poignancy of each piece you write. It’s a gift.
I wrote about a future appointment, and the hope for it… http://hopefuljo.wordpress.com/2012/08/29/365-creativity-project-day-233/
My tooth fell apart.
It exploded into my carrot
like the carrot was a tooth sucking vacuum cleaner
It didn’t hurt but my mind felt future pain
of steel drills and dentist bills
of talking like Elmer Fudd in my morning chat with my boss
of not eating crunchy food until the moment of suffering
repairs my bite
restores my fight
The Readying (a shadorma)
Will she be ready
at midnight,
stop trembling,
and focus on her past joys?
Can she accept death?
i’m always surprised when something so concise is so evocative…love this.
You’ve totally captured the dread of the unknown, Sara. I hope I am brave too.
Thanks Julie and Diana. I appreciate your comments.
Writing Day
My computer’s calling, I feel like bawling
I’d like to go on a trip
To stick to my vocation, I need some motivation
This day, I’d like to skip
The stories need writing, should be exciting
But I just want to play
My readers are waiting, anticipating
Or stay in bed all day
I’ll stick these words together, though they could sound better
My hubby’s soon coming home
What did you write today, he will probably say
Well, at least, I wrote a poem.
Go Connie!! ^_^
Due
When time will be finally due
I’m more then sure, he’ll be there, too.
We’ll talk and smile and laugh.
We’ll be relaxed and fun, maybe even wild.
Meanwhile, each of us will test
the field of truth and trust
to see if our little appointment
was appropriate and worth.
Adriana Dascalu
Get Me to the Work on Time
This winter morn the roads
Are almost un-navigable and
I am grateful for my four-wheel drive
As I plow through fresh snow
Tracing a new route to work
Sluicing between curbed monsters
Really just parked cars but so
Snow-covered and socked in
As to be indistinguishable as such
Every day’s an adventure
In my view; I don’t like traffic
Or the stop and go of intersections
And challenge myself to find side-streets
And alleys that permit me to just keep
Going with very little braking
The only pre-requisite is that I make
My appointment, get to work on time
That’s how I drive, too.
I Have an Appointment
My appointment is with my pillow
and that book I’ve been meaning to read.
It is with that tub of hot water and bubbles
and with the candlelit bathroom and my loofah.
It is with a certain souvenir mug with
the picture of the Yellowstone bear
and with a quantifiable amount of cocoa
with whipped crea
and a sprinkle of cinnamon..
My appointment is with me
because I am just as valuable
to me
as anyone else in my life.
Diana Terrill Clark
Now that’s an appointment well worth keeping … I love this Diana!
Hear, hear!
I know that kind of appointment! It’s the one we owe to ourselves.
I like the idea with the Yellowstone bear and the sprinkle of connamon.
“quantifiable amount of cocoa”–speaking my language! and i’ve only learned in recent years to make these appointments with myself and recognize my value.
Aww, thanks you guys! We need to value ourselves! And sometimes people just don’t realize how important self-nurturing is. XOX
Running Late
“It’s appointed once for man to die. . . “
(For Pop, 12-17-13—8-26-12)
He somehow failed to show up, packed,
ready to go back in the fall of eighty-eight.
The signs were right, the symptoms clear,
but his heart keep plugging away.
The angels charged with transport
may have lollygagged, failing
to complete their task, or found another
more willing, more ready for the journey.
So when he kept working, driving, reading,
his body followed orders, his mind
stayed clear of cobwebs, the bones
the joints , though rusty, held beneath his skin.
As he saw others go, he wondered
if he’d been forgotten by those couriers,
though certainly not by others here,
children, grandchildren, greats stopped by.
Sometimes the young men plumbed
the depths of his experience, transformed
on the crucible of his life into wisdom.
Younger women—younger at least than he–
charged with watching him, would tell him
secrets, share their hopes, their sorrows.
He loved the little children best, circling
his hall, toddling behind his walker, unafraid.
When finally they came again to call,
requiring his attendance elsewhere,
that majestic roll call, as he lifted
out of that shell in which he’d lived,
he stretched his arms and legs,
he heard music clearly, even whispers;
he glimpsed familiar faces, smoother
now, and asked his escort, “Why so late?”
Did I miss my appointment or did you?”
What a sweet, lovely poem of a man’s life and willingness to let go naturally … I really like this Nancy and take it, it’s based on fact? Wonderfully written especially so soon after the event, I applaud the tribute and the courage. I bet he’s tickled wherever he is …
Pop would like this tribute, Nancy. Lovely poem.
Nancy, you are in my thoughts. We share in this celebration of a loved one’s life. Less than a month past, my mother’s attendance was required elsewhere too. I loved the line – majestic roll call.
Ah sweet Nancy – I must return to this one – seems we are somewhat of kindred sisters in this appointed time… Exquisite -
i wish i’d known him!
This is such a sweet tribute! Love this Nancy.
I agree with all the sentiments above. Well done, Nancy.
Haven’t done haiku lately.
Prompt
They said she would be
late for her own funeral.
She was right on time.
perfect!
Oh Jane! This is amazing.
Fabulous – will stay with me
)))
Seasonal Truce
They fight from spring through summer,
zooming and dodging over blooms and feeders,
but when autumn pinches the air,
they swarm together around the nectar
to refuel for the long flights south,
cooperative at last until they arrive
and set up old rivalries on new ground.
The urgency of rendezvous is hotwired
into their tiny selves from beak to tail feather,
from whirring wing to wing,
a date with survival, with instinct,
with a winter home far from here.
I guess it’s that time again, isn’t it? I think you have a personal connection with “their tiny selves from beak to tail feather.”
They come to Arizona, many of them, and they have such fiery little hearts, don’t they? We had a hummer build a nest in the wind-chimes next to the feeder one year. Those babies were SO TINY!! ^_^
I love this Jane.
The Vet’s Appointment
the day we dreaded
for months has finally come
I carry him in
faithful eyes look up at me
one last lick upon my hand
gulp … I recognize this appointment Tracy and you’ve captured the poignancy without spilling over into mush … well-done
ditto. ghosts of puppies past.
Awww… sad days.
An appointment waiting…
A date, we hope we never learn
our journey into eternity
We hope that we won’t be alone
We know there is no way to see –
Death’s darkest image might
blind us all until the time
when with all our loved ones we reunite
In that unknown bright morning shine.
So lovely – the possibility of the greatest adventure of blinding brightness awaiting.. Bravo!
APPOINTMENT WITH TIME
I’m surprised
as my eyelids capture color iridescent
on a crinkled canvas no longer smooth
and the hand holding the shadow brush
is my grandmother’s, not my own.
I was surprised yesterday
and I’ll be surprised tomorrow
but in my heart I’m eighteen
and barefoot in a field of
Queen Anne’s lace.
Oh, this so reminds me of my mother seeing her reflection in a mirror and wondering who that old woman was. She said, “Well, in my heart I’m a size 9 with good legs.” I just love your bear feet in a field of Queen Anne’s lace. Lovely imagery.
Just what I was thinking. And the “crinkled canvas no longer smooth.” Perfect.
“but in my heart I’m eighteen and barefoot in a field of Queen Anne’s lace.”
That’s a lovely thought.
Wonderful, Julie. Very familiar.
Thank you, all, for the encouragement and positive words!
julie e
Date
Feeling uninspired
I let my fingers walk
reading where they step
and the letters that they talk.
My mind wanders
floating out the door
putting groceries in the cart
as my mind hovers around the store.
I need to write some prose
or even a poem or two,
it’s Wednesday once again
but my mind doesn’t know what to do.
So here it is
my poem for the day.
While my mind was shopping,
my fingers came out to play.
^_^ Fun!
Appointment with Life
We came together,
You and I,
When I barely
Knew life existed,
Before I first
Recognized breath
As belonging to me,
When things abandoned
Me forever by leaving
Rooms I occupied.
We came together,
You and I,
In this capsule
Called experience.
We have a date,
You and I,
That extends itself
Forever onward;
A date called Growth–
Of worldly knowledge,
But most of all,
Of spirit and understanding.
just perfect!
Bravo!
Wonderful – the idea of an appointment with growth – so well written!
Be –
leave me now,
I’m running late, can’t wait,
cannot stop, for-
give my selfish sin-
gle-minded, full-divided, lost attention span -
I’m a multi-tasking, thanks for asking,
neverlasting, late-for-a-date woman.
LOVE your line breaks here. “Believe me now.” “Be. Leave me now.”
“Selfish sin.” “Selfish single-minded.” Big fan of enjambment, and you’ve mastered it here, Anne.
Perfect.
Midnight
Meet me
in the moonlight
when the tide’s right
and she spills her diamonds
loose; lace your fingers through
my hair and stare out
over this wave-woven place
we both belong;
whisper breeze and stir
these trees
into a shivered song.
.
Ethereal – I love it.
Ah … the wonder of the magic of the sparkle of moon on water …”spills her diamonds loose”. I want to jump in …and swim away.
Exactly how i felt!
Oh-so-lovely. Oh-so-De!
Beautiful!
Thank you all, so much.
Wowzers, some wonderful lines there. Nice job, De!
Appointment
I’m running late as usual.
Your stare from the corner of the living room serves a constant reminder.
Though you’re not far away,
Week after week I am missing you
Mentally rescheduling our rendezvous
In favor of work, errands, dishes, anything but-
This is one meeting I cannot postpone forever.
At some point, I will need to fold my laundry.
Sushi
A TV in the examining
room sends a message-
LONG WAIT, a normal
expectation for a doctor’s
office, yet you hope
to escape such a fate.
Three cooking channel shows
later, an affair with impatience
embattles your mind and you
dream of being free from this
torturous bind so you open
the door, peek into the hall-
WHERE IS EVERONE?
you thought – you thought, but
you screamed those words,
slammed the door for
emphasis
as the ad-
Nadia G’s Bitchin’ Kitchen
flashes in front of your eyes
and you dream of sushi.
`affair with impatience’ – love that phrase. Love the whole poem.
Terrific – there’s something inexplicably powerful about the “dream of sushi” that perfectly captures the impatience even more powerfully than the power of the peek and the slamming door….BRAVO
I keep reading this one. Love it, Laurie!
“Too Many Appointments!”
Too many appointments to keep!
No time to pencil in sleep,
Maybe squeeze in a 5 second lunch,
Trapped in the teeth of a time crunch,
Too many appointments to keep!
Many I can fit in a moment of rest
Between my 1:00 meeting and 1:30 test?
No, I have to make phone calls then,
Otherwise I don’t know when
I’ll have time to finish this mess.
Oh, if only there were a blank slot
In my appointment book’s daily plot
Wait, there’s one…between 10 and 11
P.M., one hour of unscheduled heaven,
Oh, no, wait, cleaning the bathroom then…I forgot.
A clean slate is all that I seek!
This agenda of mine is making me bleak
I need just one moment to think
(or maybe I just need a drink)
Screw it, I’m calling in sick the rest of the week.
Haha BRAVO … adore the build up of rising tension and the delighted tickle of that last line!
This is charming chaos at its best! I love the little rhyme pattern. Too fun!
Great imagery and so very true about the hidden stories in seemingly simple appointments.
“Moving Mom”
I confess there’s more to see
behind the scribblings
on the Chase wall calendar
hanging in your yellow kitchen—
the big X in the center of November 15.
I’ll drive from the end of the
Wisconsin line where the butcher
lives and dines on venison
to the suburbs where the
bustling medical center is
sandwiched between a
Hooters and a Chicago Pizza
to learn
if it is time.
I love the specificity of this drive, physically and (as the last time suggests) emotionally. Nice.
This is one of those times when I just want to say… WOW Jane’s explanation mst likely the rationale WOW!
Each day followed the one before
Regimented blocks of time
With events precision scheduled
To maximize hours, minutes, seconds
In efficient trips to and from work
and extracurricular activities
Until that one moment
When I realized the most important
Appointments I could keep
Were the moments I shared with you.
Love this, mich.
Awww hard to be sweet without gooey – this is clear, unsticky and lovely!
What they said.
It’s good to learn what is really important in life. This is so good!
Great start, poets! Robert, yours really tugs at the heart – as does Andrew’s. This prompt should get a wide variety of amazing results, I bet.
The Important Date
There rushing he runs
He’s late – He’s late – that date
Wonderland whirring
Love it!
Thanks Mitch
Haha IPAD changed your name …thanks MICH
flowers
I brought you roses from the street seller
at the corner of Archway Road, just like
my dad used to buy flowers for my mum,
sometimes to mark a special occasion,
sometimes for absolutely no reason
except that she loved fragrance and colour,
and maybe I’m hoping you are like her
though I don’t realize it yet; maybe
I am trying to be as good as him.
I love this, Andrew. I’ve read it three times and can find nothing I don’t like about its sweetness, its hope. The last stanza pulls it together well.
I love this,too.
Second that!
Count me as a third … This is a perfectly blanched poem…it is a shimmering delight – like that flower stand wet and sparkling with sunshine of love and hope … Stunning!
Just perfect. I love this, Andrew!
TIME TO GO
In her mid-eighties, she could be found
Gardening
Canning
Cleaning
Cooking
Traveling
Playing basketball with her great-grands.
After the stroke, she could be found
Wherever she was placed.
Yet, the stroke could not stop
Her strong, beating heart.
Five years later, out of the blue,
Healthy organs began shutting down.
Asked if she knew what was happening,
She nodded yes.
“Are you ready?”
Another “yes” nod accompanied
Obvious relief and absolute anticipation.
It was time.
So strong a soul. This reminds me of several saints I have known and loved – thanks for sharing it.
Thanks so much, Andrew. This is my grandma – my dad’s mother.
Lovely. I really like your phrasing, word play.
The day before my mother died (one day shy of a month ago), I crawled onto her nursing home bed with her and just held her. She was ready, though not yet 80. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem.
Oh my … so very sorry for your recent loss, mich. I can’t even think about losing my parents without my eyes welling – the only downside to a close family. I need to remind myself that when it is time, it is time, and God will give us all the strength to get through it. He’ll have to.
a wonderful poem, Marie. Like Andrew, I know this lady several times over and feel blessed to have had their example.
`After the stroke she could be found/ wherever she was placed’ – This made me tear up. Thank you for sharing this one.
Ahhhh Marie – truly one of your finest – love, respect, dignity sparking spilling over the page…the contrasts between first and second stanza and thn the quiet strength throughout – beautiful
Seconded, Marie. This is beautiful and such a loving tribute.
Thanks so much for all the lovely comments. It means so much to me.
Appointment With Death
A long life ending too soon
Like a song stopped in the middle
On an 8-track tape
My bucket list incomplete
In fact, never begun
Too busy with life
Alone in this bed
No friends or family
Too busy with life
One more chance
Is all I ask
To make it right
Someone is here
To say goodbye
‘Tis only Death
I close my eyes
Begin a new journey
On the other side
I have regrets
But don’t we all
Too busy with life.
So sad. So well written.
Thank you.
Sadly beautiful.
Ah that refrain “too busy with life” will stay with me
Yes, and will try not to stay so busy with life I’m not living it. Wonderfully written.
Robert, I love your poem.
Robert – agree with Laurie – this one goes on the favorites pile…simply beautiful
Growing Up
Oh waking up to a wonderful day
all that needs to be done
school starts back tomorrow
my body is tired
feels like a worn out marrow
Running around like a wild one
hope to wake up on time
set the alarm clock
the rush is on again
Children stressed out
over not having enough
coloring pens
Off to work the good gentlemen
Smell of the toast and the hot tea
children and everyone
rushing by me
summer is gone
weather is getting cold
oh my goodness
i feel very old
Writing down the list of the last few bit and bobs
wondering is there anything left for me in the shops
the race is on to find all i can
i need an industrial cooler a massive big fan
To cool me down and calm me down
i must not stand still
give me something for my nerves
or least something to help me stand still
Off she will go another start of a year
growing up so fast
the daughter i hold so dear
where does time go
my baby is growing up fast
she always makes me laugh
we surely have a blast
So as tomorrow draws closer
she will wave goodbye to me
she wont let me hug her in public
or even sit on my knee
all grown up now
she is independent sure enough
by tomorrow evening i will be out of puff
Oh, yes. And then she’ll be driving and you’ll never sit still again!
I have a son who is 20 another daughter who is 15 and the youngest is 10 so have experienced all the ages. Never sit still in any case. That is the most terrifying part of their adolescence driving for a parent i suppose. Wrote this for my youngest she is truly becoming independent now. Growing up fast
Terrific flow and energy here – I am out of breath happily reading!
Wonderful, Ber!