Come Sit Beside Me, Please

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Come Sit Beside Me, Please

We all need a call to wake up
To attend to right now, right here
With a quorum of the senses reporting for duty
To cast their vote, for slow

Not like we need food and shelter and all the things in Mazlow’s hierarchy of needs
But, like we need poets and psalmists and prophets and spring
And two thin slices of white bread, to be soft enough to hold a thumbprint soft
So that when thick cut bologna bound with red wrapper and Dukes mayonnaise conjoin to Be pressed forward on the roof of one’s mouth, it’ll stick, (serving its white bread pre-Destined purpose of being bookends for meat) later requiring manual unsticking
And requiring two Diet Cokes to wash down the chips that served as a side in lieu of fresh Fruit at the deli counter  at the Harris Teeter which serves Boar’s Head beef bologna and The best salt and vinegar chips anywhere served politely by the shy but friendly silver Haired lady with the hair net that she wears with pride because she cares to follow the Rules and she cares too

Like we need a young man on a plane to remind us that twenty two year old adventurers
Have not had time to grow old and cold and jaded like the sad stooped man in 19B
Who doesn’t remember what time zone he is in or what his anniversary is or was before She left him for someone who remembered every year with a Hallmark card and a night Out on the town in her church dress and hose

But rather like we need rust on tin to prove there was a time of new and green
And how we live for low tide to find the rare left-handed conch brought in by the Preceding high tide, deliverer of treasures needing a hand to carry them home

And like we need a toe headed toddler who pats the sofa
With his sausage fat fingers and a nose that needs Kleenex
A diaper that weighs heavy with the need for changing
A pat, pat, pat
Slow as a metronome slow on the far left setting
And says “Read me ‘Good Night Moon’ again”
And only you know,
But don’t care that it’s the 23rd time, since Christmas
As he adds, “come sit beside me, please”

And you do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quiescence

“A breaking bough, the percussion section, the weight of white, her breaking point” #poetry

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Quiescence

The Earth plays her scales in a C minor chord
First string grey demands a solo
Cancels out Earth’s musical noise
Grey, the sound of dormancy
White noise
Dampens each note
Unuttered, silence
Muffled in the shadows of the shortened days
Cut off at the knees, the sun is tired
And so am I
Like a puppet show, the light plays in the snow
The tree limbs sign the words
So you and I
Mute and deaf to the language of the Winter quiet
May hear and see and know
Muted though they seem
The Earth still sings
A winsome winter song
A breaking bough, the percussion
The weight of white
Her breaking point
How beautiful the silence sounds
As the nothingness takes a bow

The Sun Unleashed

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The sun unleashed its radiant heat
Reminding me  it was still there,
Still very much alive
A diamond gilded tiara worn by her, proudly from on high
The crown of glory beams from her home
A cerulean azure sky
Though every shade and hue of gold
Is cast down from above
There remains residual cold
From a time not that long ago
And just because the sun may shine
I cannot find my way
Just yet
For I am stalled and stuck
And a little left behind

Still lingering in  a winter of the soul.

But I am hopeful
And aware of grace
They never left
Neither of these two
Both mercifully
Remain, a blanket, a covering
Attend me even now
And patiently they wait for me
Call me to come out and play

They’ve gone ahead to melt the ice and snow
And promise to return
To warm my heart one day
Thaw out
These places that remain
Frozen

A little dark and cold

The sun unleashed
Its power today
And I know Hope will lead me
Into Spring
Where new life regenerates
Erupts, painting everything in every hue and shade of green
And we’ll forget
The cold and dark
No memory of this season
We’ll leave it all behind

And thank the unleashed lioness
The day the wild and fiercely glorious
Sun, she could not
Not shine.

January

 

Drips grey like a leaky fountain pen
Spills battleship, concrete, slate and
Every shade in between
Blanketing the tops of trees, no leaves
Vulnerable, branches bear, shaking at the root
In the frigid air
Suspended in a cavernous sky
Frozen
Like a
Monochromatic monstrosity
The canvas wide and bleak
She sees
Sees past the bullying mid-winter blues
Yes, January
Keeps a secret
Hides it in the vortex of a
Cross- continental
Arctic blast.
Longing and desire
Grow in
Fallow fields
Laid to rest and wait
Patient in her knowing that the future is redeemable
There is hope
Oh what restless souls we are
Missing the beauty buried in the
Aching earth
Cold and lonely for new growth
But January says
Hold on
I am the doorway through which you step
Gateway
From cold and void
To feasts and merriment
Hold on fast in dormant days
And know the season
Of rejoicing lies this way.
Oh January
Help us see
The beauty that is in the days
So cold and gray, seeming barren
Nestled in a quiet snowy wait
Point us to the future where
Color spills out new birth like grace
On the other side of
A world
Colored but for a moment
In endless shades of grey.

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Joining friends Sandra and Deidra

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