Mosaic

Assignment: Write a metaphor

Tile by tile, day by day,

Some chosen, some god-wrought.
Love of loyal mate,
Delight of four children at play.
Petty hurts and wrenching deaths.
Joys and sorrows in all their breadth.
Would I change some, even one, if I could?
Probably not.

Infinity

Young and untrained, we didn't know it then

That our lives' very fulfillment was to begin.

How we worried about them, loved them 

Even as now and yet we do.

Please keep them safe, we prayed.

Give them joy among their tears.

Let them grow up moral and good, we said,

Which they did.

Now, looking back, he and I know 

We needn't have worried so.

There is no wrong way to go.

Only love. 

We sit and remember and reminisce

And marvel how in them and in their offspring we see

Rebirth of kin – parents, grandparents, even of him and me.

A legacy.

Legacy

Who he was he always knew.
Where he wanted to go, he knew too.
One day a long time past,
To pretty Miss Adele he asked,
“Yes or No?”

“Yes or no, what?” asked she.
“Yes or no, will you marry me?”
She said “Yes”,
So then and there
Began a lifelong love affair.

Forty-some years passed
When from his hospital bed he asked,
“Take me home?” But she could not.
He died, and for lonely years she lived on,
Half a person, severed from the whole.

All his days, he knew exactly who he was,
Ever confident, but never vain.
To his daughters three he left a legacy
The gift he left his daughters three
Was a lesson by example, not word.
To his daughters three he left a legacy,
A lesson by example, not word.
He was Joe. The good Joe.

The Point of No Return

He crossed the Rubicon

He bared his heart at last.

But better he had gone on as before

And had kept his wounds buried in the past.

For often there is danger,

Dark and wrought with pain,

In trying to convey true meaning

From heart to heart and brain to brain

So now is his Rubicon crossed.

Nevermore can he reverse the tide.

Once cast, the die is forever cast

And hurts of the past forever abide.

Kaleidoscope

Picture a big red house on a hilltop high.
Maybe the hill was not really that high,
The house not that big at all.
But I was small.

A happy childhood with him
I can conjure up at whim
As I remember my cousin Joe
Who made it so.

Three years my elder, he taught me by the score,
Things like reading, spelling, and the rest.
He wanted me to astound when I went to school.
He wanted me to be the best.

When I was eight, my family moved away,
Sadly, Joey and I each went a separate way.
Unknowing, I left him to comply
With mental ills that soon began to multiply.

While for me, other friendships,
Some of which still endure,
Filled my life and my days.
I just wish now I had visited Joey more.

Still, wouldn't it be a crime
In these, my Eighties Years,
To waste precious, fleeting time
Shedding guilty tears?

Wouldn't it be better instead
To focus on images that of late
Play and replay in my head?
A kaleidoscope of Joey and me.

Perchance To Dream: A Triolet

When I lie deep in slumber, where do I go?
Is it a place where unbeknownst to me I yearn to be?
Often, pondering upon waking, I wonder if that be so.
When I lie deep in slumber, where do I go?
Is my subconscious somehow in the know,
Or capriciously is it toying with me?
When I lie deep in slumber, where do I go?
Is it a place where unbeknownst to me I yearn to be?

Haikus

wind begins to stir  

rustling of leaves picks up 

drop by drop, the rain

over distant hills

a train sounds a mournful cry

boding fills the air

Senyru:

elevator hums

on its way to the lobby

door opens, we spill out