Wish Again

We move in step
Our pace succinct
Gaining strength
From weakened knees
Chest hive shaking butterflies
Exorcised to far side of trees

I’m not sure if this is real
Can’t believe just how I feel
Falling over the bridge to up
Each move un-knots
Sore landing spots
Sandpaper shuffles
At her flip-flopped feet
Living in arbor seas of green
Forgetting planks
Arched frown toward peace
Showing way to finally reach

Had me tongue-raveled
Talking of so many things
First loves
Lame high school scenes
College majors
Burning dreams
Books
Future
Failure
Depression
Creativity therein
What we’ll be
Depends upon
More than might
Brush off
Touch, set fire
In blue jeans
Live wiring
Electricity shorts out
Words come easy
Curtail breath
Over this stream
Two lives cross
Looking up to each other
With smiles content to spend
Reciprocal grins and sugar touch
Lakeside picnic basket lunch
here, her
Seeking
w
a
t
e
r
f
a
l
l
s

………………………………….…As time trails
Through forest clearing
……………..Floating together
……………………………tender warm wakes
Learned strides pasture worst mistakes
Full knowing now that she can hang—
Rather walking in serenity hand in hand
Where we miss and wish again
Discovering more than being happy
Finding joy that isn’t planned

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The above poem was written for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. Chris G. interviews Adam Romanowicz at One Stop Poetry. Fantastic photographer!

On This Easter Day

Do you remember me, Grandma?
These lilies are for you
Picked them at your favorite park
The one near Arthur Kill

Imagine she misses Grandpa
Night lights in vacant eyes
Drawn to sudden song from birds
Past war abducted mind

Do you remember me, Grandma?
When I was Little D?
Within your yard I’d cross home plate
Pretend to be a Yankee

And will you remember me, Grandma?
On this Easter Day
Slave labor tortured
We’re out of time
I watch you wheel away

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*The above poem is my response the One Stop Poetry Picture Prompt Challenge. The above photo is by a talented and kindhearted Canadian photographer, Mr. Greg Laychak! Check out his interview today over at OSP.

A Golden Scheme

This time I might discover life
Accepting death a golden scheme
Well squeeze moist eyes; uplift soft sighs
This time I might discover life
Repeats no points for bitter pride
To not break down—my goal it seems
This time I might discover life
Accepting death a golden scheme

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A, B, a, A, a, b, A, B (iambic)

*The above photograph courtesy of UK photographer Fee Easton. Fee was interviewed on  One Shoot Sunday.