I always thought
If I’d the key
I’d open Door 13
Behind which
Lies the secret
Of the man I might have been
It’s up there
Lying somewhere
In the corner of my mind
The door
To some reality
That I could never find
The thrill of heart
I wanted
Out beyond this dull routine
The golden key
To show me
How to get past
Door 13
(Inspired by this prompt.)
She is the road that turns, unbidden.
She is the sky that portends ill;
She’s on the path that more would seek
If they but had the will —
Moody’s the word that’s often bandied
After she leaves, or to her face:
Yet feelings flow and turn like dreams, when
They’re not locked in place.
Feelings will vary much, and wander:
When they’re not locked in place.
This is a prompted post.
I will ignore the obvious
The dodges and the cheats
To get out of the question’s drift
Escape means, drinks or eats —
And focus on the time-passers
Which is, I think, the way
In which this prompt is meant, and so
The shape of what I’ll say
If you, my friend, must be alone
With no one there at all
With no somatic presence and
No one to text or call
There are things you should have, and
There are things that you should not:
Both things that are intangible
And some that can be bought
I’d hope first that you have
A life of stunning memories
From which much rich enjoyments can
Be gleaned as you might please
And second, I would want you to
Have music there to hear:
For melody is hope and love
Which you will need, I fear
The third thing is a thing that I
Would not want you to bring:
Take no regrets of love unspoken
With you, festering
And fourthly, have some pictures of
The lot of us who love you;
Who look for your return and pray
And think constantly of you
And finally, my friend, bring this:
The book that we both share
That manifold refulgence that
You’ll need while you are there
The so-called desert island is
A real place, I’m afraid;
The times when you will be alone
Where choices must be made
That shape your life and destiny
That your fate turns upon:
May you have all this with you
On the journey
You
Are
On
(Inspired by this prompt)
The Baron of banality
Just call me Sir Reality
I’ve made a mess
With my largesse
But that’s the new normality
I live a life of quietude
The Sultan of my solitude
Although at times
I make strange rhymes
And reflect a poor attitude
But it’s surreal to royal me
My readers have some loyalty
When day and night
The things I write
Show all that I need
Therapy
.
.
.
(..)
For centuries, your family lived here,
Parent, child and pet —
But lately, no one cared for it
So it lay desolate
I found I had the money and
So gave you your farm back;
Way out past where most people go
Well off the beaten track
Today’s the day you move back in
And you don’t know ’twas me
That gave you back what had been lost
Your family legacy
The things that pass must pass away,
That doesn’t mean they’re gone —
Your reclamation is a thing
That I won’t
Intrude
On
(..)
Up on the aging bookcase
With bindings cracked and worn
Adventures of his childhood
That long ago were torn
From off the edge of innocence
To where dreams fall away
These travels, real in vividness
Now lost in yesterday
With so much guilt upon him
He seeks, to balm his past
The sound of children’s voices
Some harmony at last
As with the coming season
The skies begin to weep
He wishes he could tenderly
Put his
Lost child
To sleep…
= = = = =
My choices for the future
Have been so very poor
That if I could rewrite the past
I am not quite so sure
That I’d do a good job of it.
My ignorance is great:
I don’t know what I ought to know
Or learn it far too late
The power to reform the past
Would mean I knew a way
To make things come out better than
The way they have today
But I’m not sure I would know how:
Concerning death and life
There’s misery that I might cause
New untold pain and strife
And so I sit here, paralyzed.
I’ve all this power, but yet:
I’m drowning as a parent
In an ocean
Of regret
