train wreck
low-speed train
fading in the distance
chugging off to points unknown
taking away my last opportunity for love
leaving me alone on the platform
staring at the vacant tracks
I thought that when he left I’d feel sadder
though my heart registers loss
it’s the loss of a dream
more than the loss of him
we had potential together
but he said I was holding him back
I guess we wanted different things
no, not exactly
I wanted to love him
and he already loved him(self)
no love left to send my way
maybe he will find what he’s looking for
what am I looking for
why am I standing here
our relationship was a train wreck
My intention for the month of October was to participate in two different challenges on alternating days: OctPoWriMo by writing a poem on odd-numbered days, and Octangling by drawing a zentangle design on the even-numbered days. I hoped I’d get 14 of each done.
I got mixed up and worked on the wrong challenge on some days, but I did manage to write 16 poems, and I drew 14 zentangle designs. I participated in one challenge or the other for 30 out of 31 days, probably my best October ever.
Today’s prompt is Paris, and the form is rhopalic verse.
Bucket List
I’ve
never
ever been
to Paris, the
city of lights and
city of love; nor have
I ever seen the Eiffel
Tower or the Louvre. I’ve never
strolled along the Seine, never sailed a
toy boat in the Jardin des Tuileries,
never prayed in Notre Dame cathedral. I
can’t even speak French. But maybe someday I will
have the time and the means and the opportunity
to fly across the ocean and experience all the
wonder Paris has to offer. It’s still on my bucket list.
Constant Comment
green or black
it deserves its own ceremony
take mine in a mug
but on special occasions
in a fine china tea cup with matching saucer
pinky up
late at night
while reading a good book
make mine chamomile
for a good night’s sleep
Oh. Man. My intention was to do a zentangle drawing on the even-numbered days of October, but I accidentally wrote a poem instead. And it’s a dark one. Oh well.
Self-Execution
this millstone ’round my neck is like an anchor
dragging me to the bottom of the abyss
I will never be able to extricate myself
I am doomed to drown here
unnoticed
unrescued
unmissed
it’s my own fault
I did something I knew was wrong
I have no one to blame but myself
I have no right to associate with good people
my momentary satisfaction wasn’t worth the price of my self-respect and reputation
I am my own judge and executioner
I know the only just sentence
no other recourse but to disappear
to throw myself into the depths weighted down by my guilt and shame
no longer a blight upon the earth
Today’s prompt is how we honor loved ones. Although the prompt was intended to be about those who have passed on, I chose to write it about the living.
How many times?
how many times have you walked through the door with a bouquet of flowers for me, for no special occasion
how many times have I gone to do a chore, and discover it’s already done—you did it for me
how many times have I been angry or upset, and you’ve distracted me with jokes and silliness until I laugh and forget
how many times have you made something special for me for dinner—something I like but you don’t particularly care for
how many times when I’ve had to do something physically demanding were you right there next to me, silently helping me
how many times have you reminisced with me about the old days when we first met or first dated or were first married, and told me what was running through your mind when we were just getting to know each other
how many times have you saved up for something I liked but thought was too extravagant for me ever to own
every time you do those things, I’m astounded by how much you love me
What it Takes to Write a Poem Daring
Intentions and aspirations, requiring keeping
Seat (butt) in
Chair (Sit. Stay.)
Intent on
Poetic devices, rhyme and meter, concentration for
Long hours devoid of any joy
I accept there will be
No reward without
Effort
I’ll Tell You Mine if You Tell Me Yours
Do you want to hear my story?
You must listen with your heart.
Do you want to hear my story?
You must answer with your art.
There must be a compensation.
You must listen with your heart.
You’ll receive no dispensation.
Tell your story in return.
There must be a compensation
or my tale will make you burn.
Share with me your darkest secrets.
Tell your story in return.
Whisper all your shameful regrets.
I have always loved you only.
Share with me your darkest secrets.
But you left me waiting, lonely.
Do you want to hear my story?
I have always loved you only.
Do you want to hear my story?
Will There Be a 50th?
Many years ago at church
on Valentine’s Day
the pastor asked all couples
who’d been married 50 years or longer
to stand.
You turned to me and said,
“That will be us one day.”
I did the math.
I’d be 71 years old.
Who wants to live that long?
And the harder question—
how do two people stay together
for a lifetime?
You’re a good man
but you’re far from perfect,
and you’ve made it clear that
I have my faults too.
So many couples we know
have fallen apart.
How have we managed to
cling to one another?
That golden anniversary
is only a couple years away now.
I know our fondness for each other
is as strong as ever,
but will we live that long?
ARHtistic License 