My Sentence

 

Frail hands held an ornate silver bowl. “Is it for sale?” I enquired.

Everything else had a price tag. “I have no one to pass it down to and no use for it”

he grumbled. But he clinched it as if it were his life preserver and he was being

tossed about the ocean fighting for his life. His face lit up as he recalled

the seaside town where he and his sweetheart bought and filled the

bowl with seashells.  “One day on a seashore so many years ago” he moaned.

As if it were yesterday, his face lit up and he remembered the perfect day.

 

Towels laid out upon the sand.

Underneath a coconut palm.

Lovers gazing at the sea and each other.

Bringing on a sense of calm.

— Busy minds quickly silenced.

Meditating to shorebird psalms.

Sun-kissed skin soothed —

By the warmth of its healing balm.

Floating away the lovely day.

In a passionate tranquil sea.

Slowly the perfect day started to fade away. —

Flowing shades of coral essence…

Sauntered across the sky.

A panoramic dying day…

Vanished before our eyes.

Crescent moon minister…

Bonfire flames vigil’s light…

Honoring the day’s memories —

Burning well into the night.

 

His weak hands reached out to give me the bowl. “I want you to have it” 

he whispered as a tear flowed from his eye.

“I couldn’t possibly buy it — it means so much to you.” I murmured.

“You took the time to listen to an old man grumble” he replied.

“I don’t need it – I will be with her one day soon” he sighed with a smile.

 

He stared into the silver bowl — and remembered.

The day a lifetime of love started blooming.

Amongst the tarnish in the bottom of the bowl.

His reflection showed a sunset looming.

 

Photo: Unsplash

 

Wishing I could give you pathways lost.

Directions back to change that day.

Guide you back to lines uncrossed.

Wishing she had never lost her way.

Wishing I could ease how you are feeling…

Or know how to soothe your soul.

Wishing broken hearts begin healing.

Some things are just out of our control.

Wishing you many more sunsets to pursue.

Wishing new beginnings shines its brilliance;

Strength and enchantment within you.

Wishing you find the path to peace and resilience.

That is what she would want you to do.

 

This Christmas was difficult for our family. Our love for each other

helped us get through it. This is for my daughter and son-in-law.

I love them so much.

For The Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

 

 

 

The boy draws the bow across the strings —

He plays “What Child Is This?”

The whole forest comes alive and sings!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

 

The boy rejoices as he plays for the lord —

“O Holy Night” with a bow in hand.

The heavens hear the lovely chords.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

 

“O Come, All Ye Faithful” rebounds off the trees —

Brings the smallest of creatures there — And then

“Joy to The World” was carried with the breeze.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Lying on the bedroom floor in her vinyl lounge.

Flipping through magazines, grooving to the sounds.

 

She puts on her swimsuit. Everyone would leave soon…

For the crowded pool.

 

She didn’t know she’d receive a memory so intense that day.

One that’s never faded.

She saw her young life flash starting with a newborn’s tears.

More flashes, then it abruptly stopped.

She was being pulled by her brother to the shallow end.

Where all the moms were.

 

“Man, you’re in trouble,” He said.

She was just glad to be alive.

 

Years later she realized she witnessed her own birth.

In those weird flashes.

Wishing she had asked him…

How he saw her drowning in the crowded pool.

And, wishing she had thanked him — while he was still alive.

 

She jumped into the deep end not knowing how to swim.

Thinking she’d jump in and grab the side of the pool.

Thinking she’d be okay, but it was so crowded.

 

She has no regrets jumping in over her head that day.

She’s dived into life ever since. Life is crowded. — She’s still okay.

 

Photo: Unsplash

Enchanting deity Chione — daughter of Boreas.

Please surprise us with a lovely snow storm.

Cover our forest pines with fluffy white frosting.

Surprise the children with enough snow to form…

 

Decent size snowballs to throw through the air.

They’d love running around with rosy pink cheeks.

Dear Chione — I wouldn’t be surprised at all,

If they built snow castles with tall towering peaks.

 

We play in the sand here most of the year.

Even though it’s December, it can be quite warm.

Ask daddy Boreas to blow cold winds our way.

Surprise us with a beautiful winter snow storm.

 

Photo: Unsplash

 

He was born royal, noble, to be a distinguished ruler.

She was born feisty, cunning, from a world a little crueler.

He stands beside her tall, strong, and arrogantly imposing.

She stands beside him knowing he’ll never be proposing.

 

She shamelessly distracts him frequently with her desire.

He often shamelessly removes her arousing fiery attire.

She knows she’ll never be more than a beautiful domestic.

He knows underneath her frock her loveliness is majestic.

 

He knows a prearranged marriage to a noble lass nears.

She dreads the looming union but refuses to shed tears.

He’s heartbroken she’s not of proper lineage royalty.

She’s heartbroken he can’t abandon his lineage loyalty.

 

He dreads placing a ring of silver on another’s finger.

She dreads the precious metal but knows his love will linger.

He’ll be honored the title of the king at his altar introduction.

She’ll not be queen but honored with the title of seduction.

 

Photo Credit: The Art of Seduction by Catrin Welz-Stein

Linking with The Sunday Muse and Poets United — Poetry Pantry.

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

We’re both planted firmly in the earth.

On shaky ground — in doubt.

We’re both upset at times.

Not knowing what we’re mad about.

However, we don’t belong here.

We both understand…

We must find our fragrant red rose.

And leave this barren land.

 

Photo: Source

Linking with The Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Over the years I have learned to be strong.

My children— Like birds could nest on my branches.

I’d listen… lessen their burdens from life going wrong.

 

Several months ago, my branches felt bare.

More like a young sapling in need of support.

I found strength for others hard… while in despair.

 

A dear friend helped me escape to the poetry world.

The more I read and wrote the less I felt broken.

We became closer… because of our grief for a girl.

 

One poem at a time my strength is returning.

Praying— I’ll stay deep in the genre of poetry.

Forever keeping my heart and mind churning.

 

I pray… one day I’ll find someone in need,

Wanting to express their feelings some way.

And, like my friend… plant the poetic seed.

 

This year we’ll have the tree, gifts, and feasts.

However, this year is just my poetic season.

Thank you, my friend… It’s helped me have peace.

 

For my dear friend Carrie.

For Poets United, Susan’s Midweek Motif. “Prayer”

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

The latter part of life is sometimes filled…

With angelic winter white daydreams.

Quickly fading into silver-grey memories.

We ponder our life.

Let our minds wander.

—Through the past.

The latter part of life allows us leisure pleasures… Leisure time.

Remembering silver-grey treasures, we hold in our heart.

 

For The Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/