Years go by in a blink of an eye. (Yeah,
too fast I can’t remember them).
Where they go nobody knows.
Short they grow with each passing hour.
Like dreams fading in the wind. (and out my ear-)
Many years of remembering, (oh, please not true)
Only to forget each one.
Old age takes its grip into its iron hand.
It clouds the years forever,
Only to be awaken again
April 27th Prompt: Take one of your poems and, in three places, insert a parenthetical comment about the poem or your writing process, like “(I’m getting near the end here)” or this example from a Brenda Hillman poem: “(agonized/ by the glazed multitude/ of unusable lines—).”
I come from the hidden nook in the wall
Books in hand lost in their land.
I come quietly out where no one sees
With eyes dreamed over wishing
I was in the land of what I was reading.
I am the one in the back
Where no one takes notice
Quietly watching the world around me.
I come now, my mind loaded to the brim
With knowledge stack high from books.
My hard drive overloaded to capacity
Of thoughts pinging from one side to another.
I sit alone in my nook in the wall still
Reading books; lost in their world instead of ours.
Silence greets me in the morning
Sky still dark as I wake
Silence follows me around
I get ready for work
Silence stays as I leave
I go to work where silence doesn’t dwell
Silence greets when I come home
I open door to silence
I trudge upstairs to silence
Silence is there when I am eating
Dinner quiet; nothing heard around room
Silence is there when ready for bed
No dog to take outside one last time
No dog to say good night too
No dog tuck under blanket with toys
Silence is there when lights go off
Sleep comes until tomorrow
As silence greets me again in the morning
She went out in her sleep.
Eye lids closed forever.
Her head tilted in peaceful way.
Bandana of turkeys hung around her neck.
Her purple hardness a top her,
With purple leash attach
Like she wanted to go for a walk
Now instead she walks onto other side
To explore what the other world would hold.
Her purple snow coat on to keep her fur cozy and dry.
Her favorite blanket snugged partially on her.
I hope she somehow has one there too.
Stuff animals around her; her favorites she liked to play.
Now I hope she will have million of toys to play with on other side.
I held her as she grew cold in my hands;
Cried into her fur I would never see again;
And hope one day I will see her bound into my arms once more.