Poetry

8.stability

walking down streets
midnight to morning

the coolness and quiet
comfort the calamity

sometimes there’s a break
where all becomes unraveled

streetlights stop humming
and sidewalks lose their way

comfortable comfort
step starting soliloquy

i’m gonna keep going

poets note: each day the grief subsides and shimmers… she becomes farther and farther as she steps away… yet she’s not left at all.


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Poetry

3.still.tumbling

in a 180 roll
i’m still tumbling

wings pursuing the wind
free fall feverish flight

sightless vision
stirs the story

i’m gonna gather
my separated selves

into one, and
linger here on a lost lanai

where waves comes to shore
in a watery way

i’m forgetting the grief
and the ground feels real

**poet’s note to self: writing is a way of remembering a sister who has passed…** this gets harder not easier as family and friends move from one to another… writing is helping… a way of speaking that i could not would not otherwise…


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Poetry

2.bonnie.bye

the patter of a past
chattering and singing
laughing and skipping
her weight wiggles along

changing tide my feet get wet
here comes a distant wave
beyond a sea away

beneath the ocean
above the horizon
this now is just a moment
in between my present past

slithering smooth scales detach
the beating heat relaxes the tense
the shade of a tree feels cool

deciding to linger
the lizards gaze slowly
silently the wind blows by

honest healing
one breath bingo
casually calling
the sun sets serenely

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Poetry, we write poems

5_degrees_of_separation.wwp

childhood hopping
from sister to sister
kissing one and then another

leisurely i linger
a little longer to one
tho not so much with another

we wrap around
our secret world
embryonic flowers form
and float away

parading childhood hesitation
a blink of borrowed words
a hiss with spit, a claw’s scratch

i rush to one
i run from one

the turtle crawls
the rabbit runs
the earth rearranges

written wrinkle speak
in between the folds that
form my face so long ago
stirring stories of sprouting sincerity

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we write poems: no 206 which childhood… i read the prompt and thought really??? well, yeah i can write about that… and now im not so sure… it’s funny what your mind thinks and what your heart knows… just one less step than 6 one further one closer….

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