Unhitched

I loaded all my troubles
Into an old wagon and hitched
It to myself, as if it was terrific.
I came to understand my worry
Carried around, so weighty,
Could nary a problem solve.
I arrested myself in my circular
Tracks, and dumped the wagon
Content into the hardy, healthy weeds,
Choosing my life to free in love,
Knowing there was more in me
Than recognized or seen.
Abandoned, the wagon stays
To remind me there are ways
I can deal with fearful days,
Without sacrificing my peace
To an unreasonable burden,
Doubt, uncertainty, serves no purpose.
The fright still comes time and again,
But the wagonload does not like
A misfortunate encumbrance remain,
I have given it away to the care
Of God who can lessen, negate,
All the pain, making me whole again.
If I wallow then in misery
I have chosen to abdicate the power
My Savior pricelessly bought and wrought
That I might live life to the fullest
Completely abundant, blessed now
And chosen for eternity.

I was going to post the wagon, but I have used it before. You may imagine I can dump my troubles out among the woods here.

I am reading a book, intermittently, called Why Poetry, which I dip into, then even though I do not follow it, I get inspired.

As a prompt, create something inspired by something written, even if you are only tangentially relating to it.

I am so grateful to have some things appearing in the February issue of the Villa Rica News & Views.

Bless you. Be well. Remember, shadows only last a while, and you are stronger than you believe. You can successfully achieve whatever you dream.

Never-Ready/Ever-Ready

Change, it ambushes us,
Out of time, it comes wavelike,
It takes our bedrock washes
What we thought we owned;
Obliterating into oblivion.

Sometimes though it sets us
Feet first down into places
Where we belong to be found.
Never-Ready/Ever-Ready,
We pick, choose who we are.

Life is an adventure
Without compare, and we here
Are gifted the ability to share
Ourselves, presently and as becoming
Our love, such overcoming.

All we have a beautiful purpose
To enhance life for the many
And be the completion of our ONE,
Each moment a journey made
Creatively toward our Home.

If we are wide open
Set free from negativity
We can our potential materialize
Right before others and our
Astounded, awaiting eyes.

We are this present
Letting go of the limiting past,
Moving in each moment
With creativity, love, desire;
Embracing change positively.

Alex recommended I quit relying on Photoshop so much. This was handheld with the camera flash in the dark and rain. I love it. I usually do not use Photoshop, but sometimes…

Droplets Caught, Let Shine

Sleeping is a cave
An exploring behind eyes
Where brain waves transmit
Weird echos and crazy bits
Washed from our unconsciousnesses.

Why here? Why now – this?
Is confusion a wonder?
We walk such borders;
Love is a mystery, sold,
But True Love is Light and Free.

We do things for years,
Clockwork on marked calendars,
Do we know or see?
These lives across all nations,
Are we who we wish to be?

________________________________________________

The pens write black ink,
Black – the absence of lightness,
Are our words, darkness?
Who should we implore for more?
We know God, in Him, we are.

_________________________________________________

When the shelves are bare
We ache with hunger to fill
Need never sated,
We will not whisper, grumble,
For the wolves wait just outside.

Folded in wrinkles
Like coiled fabrics, unsightly,
Interior hidden,
All of us, misunderstanding,
The divine mystery – mind.

________________________________________

If we do not see
Is existence then failure?
Are we competent
To make a final judgment?
We who waste a world, and time.

_____________________________________________________________________________

I should stop. I have so much today, but there may be editing to do. I wish you all liked some of my longer work, but that is okay too.

Find pleasure as you can. Do your best. Be well.

It Rains…

The water washes
Over us and we sudden, see,
We can aptly be,
Who we have, recent, become;
Yet, we question, “Who are we?”

To be all present
Sometimes we must allow things
To slip through our minds,
Knowing our iffy recall,
Listening to understand.

Prompt: Create something that expresses the tenuousness of life. Use your favorite media. Then, if you can share it with the world, if not, it is okay. You own your creativity, and it is the one thing no one can take from you. You can purely interact with the world in your way.

Be well.

It Is For Such Days…

I am 56 years old, my son is 31. For years circumstances have widely separated us geographically. We have remained best friends through the wonders of technology. The kid got his first computer at age three. He is wildly creative, has over 100,000 words on a novel you will hear about soon enough. He has been home with me since early December, except for a few trips he took to visit others.

I irritate him a lot; I have bizarre idiosyncrasies. We get along, though, and we work together somewhat. He wants me to be bold, like himself, I am a coward. I asked him last night if he would go with me today. I explained it was Norma’s memorial service, for which Richard requested I write a poem and read it there. He surprised me and said yes. Alex is an inspiration to me always; we have been through so much.

We got Chick-Fil-A for lunch, which Alex puts up memes about being God’s restaurant. He allowed me to read the poem because I do not do public readings. He said I did it well. I thought, well, maybe I can do it.

We got there way early. My Mom always believed in being way early, and I seem to carry on her habit. We talked. We went inside, and I was reproached because there was an individual there, and I mentioned it to Alex. He was right, but… and he says there are no buts. Anyway, we went back outside. It did not seem many people I knew were about that early.

When we came back inside, one of the funeral directors talked to me and gave me an order of service. We spoke to Richard when the room opened. When we sat, one of my favorite people came up, and I got hugs. I love hugs. We promised to be better in touch. I hope it occurs.

When the service began, some very renowned poets were read by a very distinguished person. She opened the floor for attendees to speak, there was no movement or sound. So she said, maybe Jo Ann Jordan, who is a local poet, would like to say something. Yeah, me. I walked up to the steps and prayed that my knees would allow me to make it up to the podium. It was a near thing. You do not know my knees.

Next, I stumbled through the presentation.

Betwixt Times

Sometimes two people
Find the perfect match within
One another and mesh
So their souls permanently
Entwine, declaring them complete.

Cherishing each other
They come to understand
Their bond is so rich,
Their complement so pure;
Lives shared are exceptional.

Norma and Richard
Were always present to give,
Contribute whatever
Was required for their success;
And helping others do their best.

Love infused their lives
So there could be no doubt
Their dedication
To one another was sure and true,
Adoring, always respecting, the two.

Working together
They did it in perfect sync,
Creating things of which
Others could only dream;
They were a successful team.

Norma was a rare beauty,
Quiet in public, but given
To laughter and devotion,
Kind, tender, precious, sweetness,
Expressing love at home.

It is a tearful loss
Dealt out of season, against time,
The world a bit dimmer,
Without the smiles and gentleness
Norma so freely shared with all.

Her creativity
Dedication, work ethic,
Motivation we can
Hope to reflect, even as
We miss Norma’s selflessness.

“With Norma and our two kitties, we have had a home full of continuous love, respect, laughter, and adoration.” – Mr. Richard Nichols

I did the poem reading my large print copy with some muddling when I had to change pages. When I did manage to look up, there was Alex, smiling, which no one knows how that helped.

I got all messed up on Richard’s quote adding extra ands, but it really is a miracle I could do it at all. I love and respect Norma and Richard more than I can express. They have been mentors and friends to me. My copy editing is directly due to their influence.

I forgot to pray before I headed down those steps, and what a mess I made.

The service was the most inspirational memorial I have ever seen. Richard spoke, and I managed not to cry there, but I have tears now.

Norma had a truly angelic spirit and was one of the most highly intelligent creative people ever. She will be sorely missed.