Separated by a day
Tear apart Autumn.
Their true colors surfacing
Until they fall.
It all happened too fast
As slow as it went
Eight years the aftermath.
Two held out
Eyelids close for the last time
Left much unanswered with regrets
Stick it out, alone
As ideation throws itself
Against membrane walls.
Silence instead of screams
Close lips, open eyes
The yelling of the past is past.
There is a disconnect
Rejections, Turned backs
As the darkness of the night
Seeps into the coming day
Hiding is opportune
When one day is like the next.
Singing Songs of Joy and Peace*
We know what strict is
In the counts of the missing
The missing found
Splatters of their former selves
Shatters of what memories we had
Pushing away the viewpoints of before
It has to be forgotten
Or drag us into the mud
Meaningful deaths, but not now
They graphically get pushed away.
The clarity of the season was here
Wintery chills drifting along open skin
Particles inappreciable in white shells
Ingesting the soot of the days and nights
The wet becomes us
Slogging through the cold
We’re nothing but walking icicles
Degradation in our feet
Mornings must start with songs of Joy
From barracks to fields
To lift any spirit that could be raised
Through enforced blockage of what’s to come
Songs of Peace enforced taking Joys place
Blaring out, amplified unjust
Home is dancing in the street
Yet no dance here; our patterns are strict,
As long as this weather held.
Mercurial temperaments of nature
Have no sense of staying put
Wished away, ignoring petty whines
Pleading prayers always unheard
Chilled or sweltering
We melted or froze
In the fullness of time,
The weather changed.
Of the frozen deaths
We revoked our hearts
Set to extra toils
Making up for the dead
Of our sweat drenched backs
We camouflaged our hearts
What was left of them, numb or dead.
As long as this weather holds
“This” becomes mythical
While we wait; We wait
Continuing to give up lives
Joining the unremembered in their weather passage.
The egregious screws are welded holdfast
As we sing songs of Joy and Peace
Nevertheless the vagaries of weather;
Nonetheless what clasps us to those songs.
Opposite actions enforced.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
“Songs of joy and peace” come from Joni Mitchel’s beautiful song, River. I had listened to it only minutes before when I shut off my music app and tuned into that night’s writing group, River River Writer’s Circle. The prompt was “When the weather changes.” The above happened, was shared, and got the suggestion: “Think about expanding this out” (well, “stretching it out”). So, I let it sit, came back to it, and the above is the result.
Thank you, Ms. Mitchel. A sad, but integral song for many. What I wrote is no reflection on her song. The fourth line of the first stanza stayed with me.
The opening stanza from Joni Mitchel’s River is:
It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
Songwriters: Mitchell Joni
River lyrics © Sony Atv Music Publishing France, Joni Mitchell Publishing Corp, Sony/atv Tunes Llc Obo Joni Mitchell Publishing Corp., Wb Music Corp Obo Jam N Bread Music
EDIT: Boy, am I dense!
Joni Mitchel’s River;
RiverRiver Writer’s Circle.
I just realized it. Not planned at all. Doh! Oy! :::palmface:::
TAKE LOVE: Sonnet
Unfilled to the deepest depths, ardor fails
Pushing love away, Pulls love back again
Games you play, yet I come, no magic, stale
Enchant me with ardor not constant pain.
See a Bee searching for pollen to thrive
Deterred of flower's unopened petals
Across barren fields, darting to survive
Sharp blade edged, pierced deeply among nettles.
Yet, still, betrayed by the memories shared
Raptured embraces, hands entwined, we run
Kisses, smiles, our bed, enticed feelings bared
Blind to the vanishing you, soon undone.
Stagnant, I, bereft of your caring grace
The Bee wanders, black void drops into place.
TAKE LOVE: Tanka
Disdain withers love,
No give, only take; heart speared
Trampled flowers, compost tossed
Paths of dirt leading nowhere.
Prompt: Write an Essential Character Trait: Put your thoughts in the comments: what are their essential character traits?
The Essence Of
Steve wanted to text Beth immediately after their first date. He sat in his car, going over every detail. Her long red hair. Beth’s yellow summer dress. The way her green eyes drew him in, peeking just above the mandatory face mask. Beth’s figure under that dress. The almost kiss. Sue’s coyness in blocking that.
“The virus,” she mentioned. Beth had gently pushed his hands down after he “accidentally” brushed her breasts. God, those breasts were on repeat in his mind at this point. He had been idling for a long time.
At full pitch arousal, Steve started his Volvo to head home. He had hummed for the entire seventy-two minutes on his drive home. Steve caught a glimpse of his face in the rearview mirror: the gleam from his pre-date dental routine made him grin that much more extensively. Killer smile he thought to his reflection.
Arriving home, Steve glided over the street to his front door. He slid the house key into the lock cylinder in a slow-motion movie style. Engaged, the turn of the key felt good. Very good.
Closing the door, Steve kicked off his Clark’s Oxfords. Unwinding the Paul Smith tie from his neck, Steve felt released. Off came the North & Mark Union blazer. He tossed both on the seat of the hallway chair. His delighted smile followed him as he slid Tom Cruise like across the polished floor.
Plopping on the couch, Steve pulled out his cell, checking the time. His mind was somersaulting. No text or voice mail from Beth. He waffled between texting now or later. Taking a deep breath in, Steve released the air as he thought: Just under two hours. Now’s good. Yeah, that’s enough space.
Steve texted Beth. What a great time he had. How wonderful she is. Praised her eyes, hair, style. How much he couldn’t wait for their second date. Steve made sure they had concrete plans for a second date before Beth left. Date, time, and place: all secured. He finished the text with a repeat:
“I had a great time with you today. Getting to know you, to see you. I can’t wait for our first kiss.”
That got sent. Immediately followed by:
“See you next Sunday. 4:00 pm. I’m glad you liked the restaurant I chose. Food is great.”
“You’re great. Wonderfully great. I’m over the moon that we hooked up.”
Steve sat on the couch, staring at his phone. His breathing went shallow while his left hand quivered. The day moved on; Steve did not. He had no idea why she hadn’t texted back. Beth always texted back within fifteen minutes or less as they did the dating dance. Tinder, of all places. Steve shook his head, the first external movement he controlled in the four hours, thirty-two minutes, and 29 seconds since he sent the last text.
A ding from the phone awakened his body. Beth texted! Steve began davening on the couch. His prayers; heard and answered. He opened the text.
“Hi, Steve. Yes, it was nice meeting you. Have a good night.”
Steve levitated off the couch and into the kitchen. He filled a glass of orange juice, topping it off with Vodka. Then another. He was giddy. Beth said that it was nice to meet him. She wished him a good night. Two more vodkas and OJ turned giddy into sloppy.
In the morning, Steve found himself on the kitchen floor. The cell phone still in his hand.
Before he got up from the floor, he texted Beth.