A maple chair
lies abandoned
by the curbside
tilting in the rain.
Its two good legs
dig into the mud
like a wounded man
struggling to rise
it longs to be upright
it was once the backbone
of hearth and home
now it sits forgotten
discarded as trash.
There is a mint
In my front yard
The rich gold
Banked
Beneath the sugar maple
I feel wealthy
The beauty
So grand
That passersby
Slow to take
In the sight
It is the blessing
Of fall
When nature
Gives its final gift
Before it
Brings on death
The exposed skeletons
Of the trees
The brown grass
The ghost of wind
Tapping my shoulder
Penetrating me with dread
The chill
Going to my bones
I will pause
Knowing how short
The time
Before they become missiles
Flying in neighbor’s yards
Before I scoop
Them up
Exposing the ground
To the frost
Yet to come
Slender is the night
when you are tightrope walking
the ‘Straight and Narrow’
as a means of escape.
The Past is snapping
at your ankles
as you stuff your pockets deep
with items reserved strictly
for future use.
Memories, photographs,
the jaded parts of yesteryear
are cast swiftly
and (Finally) unemotionally
into the small, cleansing hearth fire.
Which you have lit
to say goodbye to that ‘Old Life’
with the last
brittle pieces of nostalgic kindling.
Then out the door…
you’re moving swiftly…
like a cat
shadow-walking the alley’d evening.
Across the border
of ‘Here’ to ‘There’
into the New Life Chapter
that’s been just waiting
for you to cast your gambling dice
in its ‘New Chance’ direction.
More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
I sailed my nostalgic boat
of remembrance.
The Springtime colours,
energy and freshness
were dazzling and overwhelming.
I choked, momentarily,
witnessing just how
vital and alive her smile had been.
Summer, was gentle,
a humming, vibrant
beehive of contentment,
warmth and sweet caresses.
The gods above
had temporarily
lost their warring anger.
There were births
both physical and emotional,
the senses had peaked.
A short journey into Fall
and the greying hair had started.
Crow’s feet,
the once thaw now revoked
and a bitter logic to reasoning.
Matters of the heart
had become almost scientific.
The magic and wonderment
that had once abounded
was now easily shrugged off,
untranslatable and replaceable.
More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
We’ve moved
my wife and I from home
to the last place
we’ll ever live and she
wants to know why
I’m sitting around
not helping to unpack.
So I tell her the problem
which is her problem too
but she keeps unpacking.
I’m not at home, I tell her,
but I’m not here either.
Not to worry, I say.
I’ll let both of us in
when we arrive.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.
The people seem so old
bits and pieces
the remains of
generations gone by –
empty pews, sparse choir
light collection basket –
even candles burned at
both ends eventually
go out.
A quiet daring stillness
between titanic events
like stirring the air.
Avoided them for 35 years
A person I almost married
Was a cherry eater
We ended badly
Swore them off forever
Till now
Funny how I held a grudge
against a fruit
Enjoying them again
They are dangerous though
The pits
Going slow, enjoying the ride
Be prepared
for bold
new directions
or so
my horoscope
reads
I know the
truth about
life
you are never
completely
prepared for it.
i saw a little leaf whirling in the wind,
didn’t want to fall from the tree
but the leaf keeps falling over,
i prop it up, it falls again .
At the end, the heartbroken leaf
leaves a tear when it falls
and says goodbye to the tree.
Now, the little leaf, reincarnated into the earth
and started its cycle all over again.
Little leaf, the storyteller of our life.