No Time Given

 For Justine
 
No time given,
Only time taken.
 
Taken for the timeclock,
Coffee; the commute.
Taken for paperwork,
Client calls, and
Writing receipts.
Taken for forced smiles
And wondering why
The boss is in a mood today.
Taken by the grocery store,
The gas station, and
Rush hour traffic…
 
Taken by fibro flare-ups,
Exhaustion, and
That stabbing pain in my knee.
Taken by house cleaning,
Chores, and
The cat box is full again…
 
Taken to try and unwind,
Relax and recover from
The emotional and auditory
Overload fuzzing neurons
Like a 22” B&W TV
With broken rabbit ears.
 
But no time given,
No fucks given
For me.
 
5/20/19
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Counting the Seconds @ Free Verse Revolution

A new poem I wrote about Time is now available at Free Verse Revolution:

Counting the Seconds

Shadows on the Sea

The shadow stretches
And grows
As the sun sets
Into the sea,
Until all is darkness.

From daybreak
Until dusk
The clock ticks
Tocks, clicks
Down to the docks.

Seconds and minutes
March in formation,
Precise, steady,
A perfect procession,
Never deterred
From the destination.

Inevitable, equitable,
Never early or late,
Arriving just
When it means to:

At Camlann,
In London Tower;
On the Senate floor.

In an Athenian jail cell,
A Dakota doorway;
In a cornfield in Iowa.

At Missolonghi,
In a Paris apartment;
On board the Ariel
— or was it the Don Juan? —
Sailing into the west.

3/30/19

 

This poem was originally posted on FreeVerse Revolution.

Ravens and Crows

I saw one of Wodan’s ravens
— Or was it one of Badb’s crows? —
Through dirty bus windows,
Flying over hard and frozen snow.

Fly on, old friend, with your mission,
And the messages you wish to bestow,
While, across the rivers, through the mountains
To grandmother’s house I go.

But grandmother doesn’t live there
— Or anywhere —
anymore.
So, to grandfather’s
— my father’s —
house I go.

Rails ride into the night,
Past mountain, tree, and snow,
Darkened windows reflect back
Future fears I cannot know.

Ten full moons have passed
Since the Banshee gently wailed,
Calling me back to the valley
Before the light finally failed.

The last time I saw mother’s face,
So weak and fragile her body’d grown
Yet from her eyes, her loving smile,
That old fire still shone.

And now, across snow-capped Cascades
I am called back once more,
For duty, for love, for unpaid debts,
And a destiny I can no longer ignore.

Not the sorrowful Banshee cry,
But crow-caw; raven-whispers,
Wisdom from the One-Eyed Wanderer;
Warnings from the Crow-Queen’s sisters.

The tapestry the Weird Sisters weave
Is completed when the final knot is tied.
Prepared or not, the future will arrive
On schedule, never avoided, delayed, or denied.

And so, I descend into the valley,
The steel steed never slows.
Uneasy, uncertain, yet undeterred,
Ready to sail wherever this river flows.

The future lies in the past
In that half-empty haunted bungalow,
Watched over and silently guided
By brother Raven and sister Crow.

12/30/18 – 04/23/19

Shadows on the Sea @Free Verse Revolution

My latest poem is now available on the Free Verse Revolution blog:

Shadows on the Sea

Haunted

Walking and old path
Down aging concrete,
Grayer than memory allows,
Each crack as familiar
As the crease of my palm,
Volcanoes and lightening strikes,
slow step through time.

Great pine tree,
Full of crow calls
That I answered
On my way to school.
Now as silent
As a schoolyard
In summertime.

They’re selling sub sandwiches
Where the arcade used to stand,
Baking pizzas
In the old Datsun showroom,
The lot too big for the business.

There’s a hole in the house,
Where you used to be,
On the left side of the couch
Next to your teacup,
Smarties, and Kindle.

There’s always a chill
When I sit in that spot,
Sipping chai tea
From your cup,
Remembering
When you were here.

8/21-10/1/18

While it Lasts – a senryu

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Enjoy the moments
As they come and pass away
Never to return.

8/18/18

Down the Tracks

Life is not a road
On which we walk.
Roads can be walked
In either direction.

Life is a train
On which we ride,
Ever traveling forward
At faster
And faster speeds
Until we reach
Our destination.

4/21/18

My 19th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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Carpe Diem – a Tanka

Delicate rosebuds
Collected in the garden,
Sweet smell of summer,
Now just dried dead memories
As we all, someday, will be.

4/19/18

This is my response to Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 80, GATHER & SOFT, #SynonymsOnly

My 18th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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Fragment of Verse on the Passage of Time

Days slip away
Brown hair turns gray
As a boy turns into a man.

4/18/18

My 17th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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