The Simple Things – For Bupa
You always loved the simple things
Westerns, coffee, corny puns,
You whistled on your cane,
And you played every crane game you saw.
I have piles of cheap stuffed animals
But they’re worth so much more from you.
You fed me cake with your head in gear;
Most of it ended up on my face.
There was a submarine in the backyard
Every April Fool’s Day.
You were never much of one for words
But you sure could swear and you made me laugh.
The simple things were the best
An easy chair, dessert, and game shows-
And though the last years were hard
I’ll never forget the carefree times,
The cheesy crane game toys,
The cathartic nature of swearing like a sailor,
How to make a real dessert plate,
And all the good times we shared.
Tethered Heart
The pilgrim has resided in my blood, insatiate for years,
But now the lust for new lands has grown too strong.
We desire the mountains, the lakes,
The cities, the cottages, the temples
We need lessons learned only in adventure.
Yet, there is a tether tied to my heart.
If he asked me to stay I know I would still go
But since he spurs us to leave
I know I will stay, even when he has gone.
To love me enough to let me go
And still be my home while I am away
And when I returned
Is all that I have ever needed to know.
Another Viola
Look at me. Another lost Viola.
Sitting in disguise and quiet, secret love
To see him, ah! but to love him with a-
No. Don’t say passion. Don’t say smold’ring love.
I, Viola, must sit with patience,
Must sit and not be seen or heard or loved.
To break my promise would kill my conscience-
Would return me to that hated, dark flood.
That unholy night where my soul first lost
Those black times when my deeds were unguarded
I killed my dreams in regretted holocaust.
And now I wait, missing what I discarded.
Their sacrifice that I might learn anew
That grace still comes even when merits are few.
Vines
For love, I gave my heart and lost my head.
One look from him was all that I desired,
But still I ran from him – dry-eyed, I fled.
Fear of the future, of secrets – I risked fire –
Soul burning agony. All for freedom.
But there was no freedom in that dark place –
More pain. More chains. More fear. And now, no him,
No love to save me, and so I must perish.
Perish pining, darkly burning in strife!
Regret consumed me. Overwhelmed my soul.
In wandering thoughts I laid down my life,
I let my wits away, and gave up control.
But my knight arrived and in his hand took mine –
Too late my mind was caught in sorrow’s vine.
Mother Eternal
This is another poem from this set that I rather enjoy. It was fun to write because I got to tie in some of my favorite tree lore with Rivkah’s (my DnD character) feelings and desires.
‘
Find comfort in the beech trees arms
She loves you, little one
Climb high upon her noble brow
She beckons you, little one
Be crowned with leaves of joy and grace
They’re just for you, little one
Rest in her shade and safety
She will protect you, little one
Though you grow older she stays the same
She will watch you, little one
Never fear her, always love her
Heed my words, little one
Match Girl
Little girl
Playing with fire
Spreading it all around her
All she knows
Is that it keeps her safe
And warm
But when it is gone
She shivers in the cold
Dreaming of the fire
Wishing it would return
Wishing it would spread
Little match girl
Lost in the cold.
***The only thing I wanted from my grandmother when she passed away was a doll. The little match girl sat in her living room for years, and now she is in my bedroom as a reminder. I named her Etterene…after my grandmother.
No One was Saved
I am Eleanor Rigby.
I come out of this world
A lonely person
Searching for love
Dreaming about that day.
I am a river.
Soft and sweet.
My embrace like cold needles
Carrying my dream away
Back to the lonely banks.
I am a smile.
I play on the lips
Of liars, saints, and lovers.
I come and I go
A sign that they are just barely getting by.
I am a secret.
Shared between friends,
Holding people together
Tearing others apart
Because no one keeps me to themselves.
I am Eleanor Rigby.
I keep faces in jars
Because my own face is the mask.
The river, the smile, the secret
are truth.
***I love allusions and I felt a sudden connection to Miss Rigby, so this is my tribute to her (as well as the four men who brought her into existence). I look forward to the day when I don’t feel like I’m turning into Eleanor and Father McKenzie any more.
Denim Heart
A denim heart
Rough, tough to tear
Protective and reliable
Hard to rip
This denim heart
was not always so
Hard to break
Look closer
See the seams
See the patches
This denim heart
repaired with thread and linen
is not so
Hard to shatter
For though denim it is
on the outside
There is glass underneath
Poetic Explorations 