Blog

Another rainstorm without you
far away in another land
in another life
with others

Happy people surround you
love a side of you
I will never know
in this life

Memories assault my weariness
rain pounding the camper roof
the sound melodious and raw
as we lay together

Lightening and thunder
form an impenetrable wall
blocking out the world
outside us

Too soon the tempest ended
the time of your leaving came
a kiss a goodbye
and you were gone

Another thunderstorm without you
rain slashes the shingled roof
thunder rocks misty windows
I lay alone and listen

In response to
bushboy’s Ragtag Daily Prompt –
Thursday word: Vitiated

My flowers have bloomed
there’s barely any room
so full and luscious they are

After watering them last night
I wound the hose up tight
slipped into my bed to sleep

Bright morning had come
a warm summer day sun
to go out and enjoy my new buds

Oh horror and dismay
to find my garden in disarray
not a single flower bud in sight

My garden’s abominated
each stem and bud vitiated
a silly rabbit the one to blame

One more day is all I ask
to tend my sweet flowers
Complete my garden tasks

Watch them grow another day
to see their blazing colors
This mantra I do pray

Make sure the luscious soil
stays nicely moist
Watering my lovely cinquefoil‘s

To hear the bees all around
bouncing flower to flower
Singing their happy bee sounds

Shoo the wild squirrel’s
out from my bedded bulbs
Their bushy tails unfurled

Pull errant unsightly weeds
beneath the plants they hide
Apologizing for the need

Seedlings need transplanted
their pots have grown too small
For this I must be granted

Just one more day I implore
to gaze upon my garden
Or perhaps even a little more!

Christmas is gone
six months ago
Sweltering July
working hard to push
June aside

Windows closed tight
since April or perhaps May
Summer winds blasting
south with heated intensity
Electricity mongers rejoice

The aged table still sits
beneath a cooling unit
Best suited to a yesteryear
theme park carnival ride
Water droplets drip in rebellion

There is a shelf sturdy and strong
just down from the tabletops edge
though covered with dust now it is
Neatly within gift packages reside
scotch tape yellow and curled

Boxes swathed in holiday wrap
from birthdays past to Santa’s big night
A few carry a bunny or two from when the boy
was not yet a man – and even after

The package on top
hardly dusty at all
taken from beneath
her tiny light-covered tree
now placed along with the rest

Waiting for their day to be retrieved

(Wishing a wonderful birthday month to my son. I hope you are healthy, happy and loved. I miss you. Mom)

Hosted by Sandee at Comedy Plush Join in every Monday for Awww…Mondays. Post a picture that makes you say Awww… and link it back to Sandee above.

Time of summer
heralded by shadows
riding below
the black crow

Mist rising above a still creek
filters through kudzu
Spanish moss leaking
from gnarled branches

Within the belt of a dark forest
nestled hidden from all
save a few tested and chosen
a sentinel waits

In tandem with Di at pensitivity

After the coldness
the emptiness of nothing
Your voice though far away
garbled by distance and static
brings warmth
kindles hope

The words hang frozen
between two souls tortured
My voice in return
stilted by time
damaged by disuse
animated hurt

Misunderstanding
our misunderstandings
Each a prisoner
slave to desire
shackled by expectations
until not

If only you would
say the words
Easing my heart
feeding my soul
If only I could say
the words to you

Bunny hops across my yard
twilight creates shadows
bigger than life
Like dreams

Stops at one floral laden bush
takes a distasteful bite
spits out the sour fruit
Seeds propagate

More flower bearing plants ahead
strong legs plunge bunny forward
into thorn protruding arms
Rose bed

One bite then a painful dislodge
red petals lay upon bloody wounds
A sniff – a snort – a shake of a leg
Lesson learned

Sentinel’s standing tall
guarding the paradisiacal island
year after year into decades
through light storms and squalls

Nothing touched them at all
their roots burrowed deep
fronds spread wide against
sun wind and balmy stalls

Late on the last day of Fall
onto the beach they came
carrying machines made by men
not one could withstand the thrall

Chopping down the lovely molle
used their wood for fancy chairs
on the beach where they had stood
victims of human cabal