All I Have is This Photo
All I Have is This Photo
November 18, 2024
All I have is this photo
Taken at the beach
I asked her if I could
She replied with a shrug
It was an older camera
I purchased it in my youth
It used film
It was my last exposure
I wanted to strike up a conversation
The original premise of my asking
I expected a cheerful change of demeanor
She remained sullen, incredibly distant
Her eyes looked everywhere
But they focused on nothing,
Nobody,
And nowhere
Had she been hurt
Had she been ignored
The indifference someone instilled in her
She now instilled in others
So, if by chance you should encounter her
If by chance you have an inclination
Drop a hint
Whatever it is, it too shall pass
When You’re a Parent
When you're a parent it's not
Always apparent...
You flash past the mirror like
A meteorite...
It's not 'til you've paused that
You see pressures creasing...
You've drag raced with grease
On wet wheels overnight!...
Please take care of yourselves,
All you parents of children!...
It's easy to wear out
The seat of your pants!...
No one will warn you...
So few give a damn!...
For the parents of children...
It's like life on the lam...
It's always assumed...
"Oh, they've got this...
They're fine...
They choose their descent
Into this secret world...
Let's give them some space...
All those clouds overhead
Are patching together...
Better go off to bed...
...That balloon just got stuck
In that tree branch above!...
Let's cross the wide road
To make way for their pram..."
With the hearts and eyes
Closed, the Self Servers
Survive...
They see...
They acknowledge...
They pass quickly by...
On nimble thin legs...
All these crabs,
And these snails
These self assured workers
Who hang a wide sail
On their Boat of Grand Dreams,
And hopes stacked high
To heaven...
Sailing on with full steam
They make tracks
For New Worlds!...
Well, I'll tell you when you
See all the joys and wet tears
Of parenthood there
Like a mirror to your face
You might change your tone...
I definitely felt
A shift so internal
That my ways of emoting
Were stopped dead in their tracks...
Yes, you must now look back!...
When you're a parent it's not
Always apparent...
You flash past the mirror like
A meteorite...
It's not 'til you pause that
You see pressures creasing...
You've drag raced with grease
On wet wheels overnight!...
Take care of yourselves,
All you parents of children!...
It's easy to wear out
The seat of your pants!...
No one will warn you...
So few give a damn!...
For the parents of children...
It's like life on the lam!...
...Tho you'll see flashing lights!...
And see unprovoked bliss!...
There are blessings on blessings
That the other souls miss!...
Yes the sky's full of stars now,
The deep well sings your name!...
The doors of the soul
Open wide without shame...
There are great golden sights
That you cannot foresee
If you can put aside all of your
Unprovoked greed...
Oh, the road of a parent
Seems covered in cracks...
Many times there are pitfalls,
And no air left to breathe...
One needs to take stock...
It is all in your hands...
But I bless every parent
For taking a stand...
We need star filled eyes!...
And we need hearts of love!...
And we need doting arms
Wrapping small ones like doves...
We need sugar kisses!...
We live for magic nights
Where the moon fills the room,
Setting young souls alight!...
10/21/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit #2
Contemplation Of What Makes Writing Good
I've been contemplating the meaning of writing.
What makes a poem good?
Why do some things tug on our heart strings while others don't?
Why do some tellings of a trope make me cringe and others not?
What makes good writing good?
Is it the soul you out into it?
The heart left sitting on the page?
Is it the words you use?
Their dissonance, elegance and phrase?
Is it something all together different?
Like the sweet immortality of the Gods?
Or is it a pleasant face, a trying grace, and a determination to continue on
Confidence
Confidence
October 21, 2024
It was late in October
The Spring colors fading
The Summer winds departing
It is the season of change
People will prepare for the cold
Today the temperature reached 80
The Sun boldly gave another perfect day
People gave this Sunday
One last standing ovation
One woman gave so much more
She wore what was not in style
She did not care if you cared
She danced to her own tune
In a field of Fall’s best
Giving as good as she got
What music lingered in her mind
To ignore the thralls of her critics
And subdue their disparaging banter?
What heart must beat
To lead hundreds on the verge of emulation?
Her confidence soared quantitatively
As did the crowd in close proximity
But alas, those that wanted to break free the most
Were those who moved the least
And a calling became merely a performance
But what a performance!
Worthy of the time well spent
Filed as a memory of many
Remembering one
Instead of one remembering many
transparent.
Its like being forgotten
In a game of hide and seek
Its like being sad
But not wanting to seem weak
Its like being trapped
With nobody looking
Its like crying out
But nobody listening
Its being shy
But nobody cares
Its being suffocated
Like you cant breathe
You want to cry
But nobody cares
Its a hurting vent poem
Nobody will read
Ok Alright
It's ok...
It'll be... alright.
Flicker out, fading light
Dawn approaching; dying night
Apparitions here; deathly sight
Soldiers gone; pale as white
Nazi games; Jewish plight
Fuck around; firefight
Red hot flame; hose delight
Dancing dames; fuck on-sight
Vietnam; nations' fright
Took too long; apolog-ite
I'm sorry; that's just not right
Absurdist dreams; reality bites
Comedy's dead; still, keep it light...
It's ok; It'll be... alright
Don’t Forget About Me
When twilight's veil cloaks the sky,
And shadows whisper through the gloaming,
Think of me in that dusky haze,
A spectral form, softly roaming.
In the still of moonlit night,
Where phantoms tread with silent feet,
I am the ember in twilight's breath,
A flicker on the edge of night.
In the echoes of a distant bell,
Where time itself begins to fray,
I drift through cosmic streams of thought,
A timeless wanderer at the gate.
When dawn's pale light begins to creep,
Through windows veiled by time's neglect,
Recall me in those shadowed rooms,
A fleeting form, a dark aspect.
In tomes of old, where secrets lie,
And words are whispered to the brave,
I am the ink that stains the page,
A haunting verse beyond the grave.
As days dissolve in memory's mist,
And nights grow long with whispered dread,
Keep a space within your heart,
Where dreams and darkness gently spread.
For though I dwell in realms unknown,
In memory's embrace, I'm sown,
A spectral touch, eternally—
Don't forget,
Remember me.