Tag Archive: poems


A path I can’t yet tread

Filed under: An Introspective, Poetry like stories — Leave a comment
July 28, 2024

I know you had to go, you could not stay,

but I miss you each and every day.

You were my heart, my conscience, my clock

and now it feels the world must stop.

Somehow, someway I must move forward

or run the risk of going wayward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I await that day we will meet again

but know I’m not alone till then.

I feel your presence as if you’re here,

or out of reach but oh so near.

You walk with me on every breeze

and I with you in moments like these.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though you have taken a path I can’t yet tread

I know it’s one with warm sunshine ahead.

Your mark upon me will not dull or fade

my grief at this parting will be dearly paid.

My love for you cannot be measured

not in tears nor memories treasured.

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Today I

Filed under: An Introspective, Poetry like stories, Short Stories — Leave a comment
July 12, 2017

Today I came undone. It was an interesting feeling akin to screaming from a dream, pointless and jarring. My words were nothing more than pathetic echoes reverberating out of me, attached to nothing, devoid of meaning. Scales fell from my eyes, liquid fire, blinding me to the light. As I stood in the maelstrom, begging it to strike harder, I paid willingly in pounds of flesh. Eased by the warm rush of blood. Calmed by the whiring in my ears.

My masks lay at my feet strewn like flowers, representations of things I dare not name. They are my most and least honest appendage in one. The masks repel and call to me with the same voice. It’s familiar, and my fingers itch to pull them up, obedient as always.

An acrid taste upon my tongue sours my stomach. Perhaps this pill wasn’t meant for swallowing, but the hour is late and I’ve already decided. So while Fate looms chill and shadowy behind me, a shark, keen in bloody water, I drop my arms, stand firm, and adjust my posture. I am ready to continue because continue is what I do.

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Lost and Found

Filed under: Short Stories, Yarns, Anecdotes, and Other Memories — 5 Comments
December 22, 2013

The words swirled in the ether untangable things just out of reach as he sat there.  He blinked took a drink of water and tried again.  Silently he read the lines penned with such a familiar slant begging his thoughts to coalesce.

“Do you remember these dad?”

The hopeful question intrudes upon his contemplation.  Its his script and the words read I’ll love you forever, but the name Jean just doesn’t ring any bells.

“They say my name,” he beams at his son, who tries his best to smile back.

*******

My grandpa suffers from Alzheimer’s disease and though he still remembers all his kids I am but a smiling young face to him.  This Christmas he was gifted with a book of all his old poems and writings that had been found while cleaning.  When he read them he struggled with some words, but the worst part was he seemed surprised to see his name on the author line. 

Perhaps his memories are now more akin to half remembered dreams, not concrete enough to be believed as fact, though I hope they bring him comfort.

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas Grandpa
                              From your granddaughter who promises never to forget what you cannot remember

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You Are Not Forgotten

Filed under: Poetry like stories — 6 Comments
May 27, 2013

As I walked on hallowed ground sanctified by the blood of brave men.  I thought of sacrifice.

As I read the names of the fallen and their brother’s in arms laid to rest with them after the fact.  I was struck by a profound sense of loyalty.

As our national anthem was sung by a lone voice, giving what it could give.  I was filled with pride.

And as the stars and stripes snapped in the wind I heard freedom.

     ~My thanks and gratitude to those men and women past, present, and future who do what I cannot. 

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Unforeseen Consequences

Filed under: Poetry like stories — Leave a comment
December 4, 2012

                                   Time runs in rivulets,
       winding its never ending way through all things.
constantly, persistently, etching that which is memory
                                        upon the sands.

                          In torrents it washes all away,
                       in trickles it scares to the bedrock,
               eroding some pieces while forming others.

                          Moving in predictable patterns
                           to unforeseen consequences.

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