Without wings
I sit, high in the palm of the tree,
looking down on earth beneath
where others walk.
I would fly away as snow drops
but the white chastity of winter
spreads around the landscape
until it is lost.
And what have I found here?
A perch above that which is taken.
Much has been happening these days .
The world around me is changing very fast.
I find my own universe lies threatened with new possibilities.
I wait and watch and enjoy how erasure is a pleasing thing.
I like only to cling to my past for the ring of security is still there.
I see the ring as I hear how everybody near and dear comforts me.
Today my world has expanded far and wide leaving me expecting much.
The ring of my past heard in my silent hours brings the clamour of demands alive.
I see everybody around- father, mother, brothers and sisters with many more- consoling me.
Am I desperate today ? Am I very sure my world of explanations is growing unchanged
Despite wind of change sweeping every floor of expectations and dreams at a magician’s speed?
There is an answer still- all is so wrought already well , there can hardly be any ill!
In the fourth grade
too many moons ago
a reassuring teacher
looked over my shoulder
and said not to worry about
some mistake on my paper.
She said that’s why
we have erasers.
Now a teacher assures
my grandson
in the same grade
not to worry
about his mistake.
She tells him that’s
why we have
a delete key.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.
Silence is complicated.
It can be comfortable and companionable
like the silence between us now.
We see others though, where silence rests heavily,
as they seek speech to connect them, to bridge the gap
of discomfort, which lies uneasily between them.
We will not allow this silence space,
Worse is the fear of a future silence, a cold space,
where we have nothing to say to each other.
A silence where we are still together, but distant, remote,
without feeling, drifting into our private spheres,
that we do not want to share. No connection, touching warmth,
but a place where we are unable to excite each other
even with conversation.
We know dangerous silences too, seething with an anger
that pours from our closeness and expresses itself,
tightly wound, as it passes through us.
We communicate this only too effectively
and may break ourselves, before this silent storm.
Speech could not help us anyway, it’s violent words
threaten only to separate us, to blow away the vestiges
of how we want to remain.
More at https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/.
Kingdoms Gone, Rulers Gone
Generations Rolled, People Changed
Properties Lost, Living Styles Changed
Old Culture Out, New Culture In
More at https://markumantri.wordpress.com/.
My granddaughter
speaks to me
with phrases like
Whatevs,
a tiny sponge
for vernacular, my
only hope being
that I can still
translate as time
flies by.
Gone now are the nights
of warm sock wrapping.
Of dripping pipes.
The last bit of cold (I
believe) has passed,
at least for a while.
Now the time has come
for sunburn, perspiration.
Sprinkler systems.
Shades of green, shattered
blue eggshells,
decorating the outside view.
when you leave
I will smile
as you turn
away and go
while these words
sketch the outline
of where you were
Who is this man?
I don’t recognize him anymore.
Something is different,
changed from before.
His face, his hands, those beautiful brown eyes,
all the same I remember them well.
But this man, standing before me,
is merely a shell.
She’s changed you so much,
in so little time.
I miss the old you, the happy you,
miss when you were mine.
So this is where I leave you,
in a love I hate to say,
Is as horrible as the one you gave me,
at the end of our days.
