April, 2020
What can we do? - by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
What can we do? - by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
Another day housebound, but there is still a lot to do. Perhaps these things may seem obvious, but I feel they are worthmentioning to remind us of our own power while being under siege by the deadly virus.Here are my top 10:
1.) Spring cleaning: sort through andorganize stuff. You might be surprisedby what you find. I found a good bookthat I thought I had misplaced that Iam now enjoying.
2.) At least once a day go on a walk tonowhere, that's the safest thing.
3.) Exercise to your ability indoors, yoga,stretches, sit ups, etc. I always find thisinspiring.
4.) Do things you set aside for a rainyday. (This is definitely the rainy day!)
5.) Pursue hobbies
6.) Healthy distractions are in order,games, books, and music.
7.) Communication is so importantnow, writing letters, and calling friends,and of course, the internet.
8.) On the other hand, this might seem strange, but alone time isimportant as well. Many of us are allcrammed together indoors against ourwill, and moments by ourselves areimportant.
9.) others are alone and need friend-ship which is as different story.
10.) it is a time for empathy, sympathy,and kindness. We're all in the same boat really. And when I help someoneI feel a warm glow that money can't buy.
Jon Bush Lexington Street++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
What we could never understandWas that in the fleeting glitterOf the white man's goldOur sacred landWas bought and sold.
1.) Spring cleaning: sort through andorganize stuff. You might be surprisedby what you find. I found a good bookthat I thought I had misplaced that Iam now enjoying.
2.) At least once a day go on a walk tonowhere, that's the safest thing.
3.) Exercise to your ability indoors, yoga,stretches, sit ups, etc. I always find thisinspiring.
4.) Do things you set aside for a rainyday. (This is definitely the rainy day!)
5.) Pursue hobbies
6.) Healthy distractions are in order,games, books, and music.
7.) Communication is so importantnow, writing letters, and calling friends,and of course, the internet.
8.) On the other hand, this might seem strange, but alone time isimportant as well. Many of us are allcrammed together indoors against ourwill, and moments by ourselves areimportant.
9.) others are alone and need friend-ship which is as different story.
10.) it is a time for empathy, sympathy,and kindness. We're all in the same boat really. And when I help someoneI feel a warm glow that money can't buy.
Jon Bush Lexington Street++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
GREED by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
GREED by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
What we could never understandWas that in the fleeting glitterOf the white man's goldOur sacred landWas bought and sold.
Over the Moon by Jennifer Lagier - Monterey, CA
Over the Moon by Jennifer Lagier - Monterey, CA
"Beneath a sky thrown open To the need of stars To know themselves against the dark."~ Joy Harjo, "Seven Generations"
Full moon above bare oak branches.Tiny diamonds burn through onyx firmament, spill silver meteors.
Calla lilies thrust pointy green pokersunfold white flagons, collect crystal dropletsfrom moist evening mist.
Luminescence floods midnight gardenwhere a glittery-eyed possum hisses before she squeezes beneath picket fence.
Whirling spatter of streaking stars revolves around celestial lunar spotlight, its rainbow halo pulsing muted colors toward slumbering earth.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tuxedoed geese waltz across still estuary.Their graceful wakes unfold, pleat the dark water.
Unleashed dogs gallop along Del Monte Beach.Red-faced owners jog in futile pursuit.
Grouchy harbor seals rumble, battle for sunlight,push each other off sinking piers into icy bay.
At the intersection, a homeless womanholds up a sign. I hand her ten dollars.
Walkers with coffee mugs smile, pass it on. Winter morning seems warmer.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Return to the quiet edge, those private places."~ Barbara Swift Brewer
Frost-scalded, comb-over ice plant straggles across bald, sloping sand.Silver boardwalk sutures dunes,rime glitter at sunrise.
Above turquoise breakers shedding spindrift tatters,a chevron of brown pelicanspatrol curving bay.
Dawn divulges a technicolor epiphany.Kelp and flotsam, stirred by wind,distract lone woman walker who pauses,explores purple statice, brittle sage clusters.
Pink light pulses, emanates from chill horizon,the ephemeral edge of earth’s curvature,gold-streaked sky, icy dunes, muscular ocean.
Full moon above bare oak branches.Tiny diamonds burn through onyx firmament, spill silver meteors.
Calla lilies thrust pointy green pokersunfold white flagons, collect crystal dropletsfrom moist evening mist.
Luminescence floods midnight gardenwhere a glittery-eyed possum hisses before she squeezes beneath picket fence.
Whirling spatter of streaking stars revolves around celestial lunar spotlight, its rainbow halo pulsing muted colors toward slumbering earth.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ripple Effect by Jennifer Lagier - Monterey, CA
Ripple Effect by Jennifer Lagier - Monterey, CA
Tuxedoed geese waltz across still estuary.Their graceful wakes unfold, pleat the dark water.
Unleashed dogs gallop along Del Monte Beach.Red-faced owners jog in futile pursuit.
Grouchy harbor seals rumble, battle for sunlight,push each other off sinking piers into icy bay.
At the intersection, a homeless womanholds up a sign. I hand her ten dollars.
Walkers with coffee mugs smile, pass it on. Winter morning seems warmer.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
On the Verge by Jennifer Lagier - Monterey, CA
On the Verge by Jennifer Lagier - Monterey, CA
"Return to the quiet edge, those private places."~ Barbara Swift Brewer
Frost-scalded, comb-over ice plant straggles across bald, sloping sand.Silver boardwalk sutures dunes,rime glitter at sunrise.
Above turquoise breakers shedding spindrift tatters,a chevron of brown pelicanspatrol curving bay.
Dawn divulges a technicolor epiphany.Kelp and flotsam, stirred by wind,distract lone woman walker who pauses,explores purple statice, brittle sage clusters.
Pink light pulses, emanates from chill horizon,the ephemeral edge of earth’s curvature,gold-streaked sky, icy dunes, muscular ocean.
Fire In My Soul by Michael Shane Love - Lake Stevens, WA
Fire In My Soul by Michael Shane Love - Lake Stevens, WA
There is a fire in my soul that keeps on growing,keeps on spreading,consuming every part of me.And though you cannot see this fireyou feel the intensity.
At some point I must let go.I cannot hold onto this forever.Someday there will come a timewhen reality shall severmy ties.
There will be a light that is not there.And people walking everywhere.And a madman crying to a fire of his own.He shall stretch his arms over his headand dance the dance of those now dead,unlike the rest knowing that he must dance alone.
I will see this madman and recognize himfrom another time before,in the dancing flames of firewhere we sat on a rocky shore.
And then I danced.And then I cried.But when it comes timewe must die but I will not dance alone.No.I will dance together with myselfin the unknown.
There is a fire in my soul that keeps on growing,keeps on spreading,consuming every part of me.And though you cannot see this fireyou feel the intensity.--msl2019++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
You cry and shriek, it rends my soul,there's nothing I can dobut watch in horror as the grip of deathfolds around you!"O God!" I scream out, "Why?!"I claw and chew, I can't get out!Slowly we must watch as one byone we are snuffed out.And now it's you there on the table!You turn and look into my eyes,a look of peace, of love,still your fear wears no disguise.I keep clawing, biting while you watch,knowing there's nothing I can do.But no! Oh no, here he comeswith that needle towards you!I'm frantic, as are all the rest,but there's no way out of here!Shrieking, scratching, biting,then your scream stops me in fear!They've done it to you.I watch and die inside, your shrieksslowing what seems forever;your body violently jerkingin ways a body should move never.Your final breaths, you lookonce more at me as if to say,you know I tried, it's not my fault,this is just the way.My comfort that it won't be longas one's at the cage once more,now reaching for a lab ratlike so many times before.
--Michael S. Love-copyright 2019from the perspective of a lab rat
At some point I must let go.I cannot hold onto this forever.Someday there will come a timewhen reality shall severmy ties.
There will be a light that is not there.And people walking everywhere.And a madman crying to a fire of his own.He shall stretch his arms over his headand dance the dance of those now dead,unlike the rest knowing that he must dance alone.
I will see this madman and recognize himfrom another time before,in the dancing flames of firewhere we sat on a rocky shore.
And then I danced.And then I cried.But when it comes timewe must die but I will not dance alone.No.I will dance together with myselfin the unknown.
There is a fire in my soul that keeps on growing,keeps on spreading,consuming every part of me.And though you cannot see this fireyou feel the intensity.--msl2019++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Experiment # 23-A" by Michael Shane Love - Lake Stevens, WA
"Experiment # 23-A" by Michael Shane Love - Lake Stevens, WA
You cry and shriek, it rends my soul,there's nothing I can dobut watch in horror as the grip of deathfolds around you!"O God!" I scream out, "Why?!"I claw and chew, I can't get out!Slowly we must watch as one byone we are snuffed out.And now it's you there on the table!You turn and look into my eyes,a look of peace, of love,still your fear wears no disguise.I keep clawing, biting while you watch,knowing there's nothing I can do.But no! Oh no, here he comeswith that needle towards you!I'm frantic, as are all the rest,but there's no way out of here!Shrieking, scratching, biting,then your scream stops me in fear!They've done it to you.I watch and die inside, your shrieksslowing what seems forever;your body violently jerkingin ways a body should move never.Your final breaths, you lookonce more at me as if to say,you know I tried, it's not my fault,this is just the way.My comfort that it won't be longas one's at the cage once more,now reaching for a lab ratlike so many times before.
--Michael S. Love-copyright 2019from the perspective of a lab rat
To discover who we are,To enjoy the beauty of the Universe
To remember, record our livesTo be close to Nature
To find harmony in the worldFull of pain, toil and discord
To find special moments To share with others and cherish
To paint a portrait or landscapeWith words and feelings
To be a historianTo be a photographer
To climb Mt. EverestTo view things at a distance.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from the youngTo the young, daydreams are very real
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from our daysAre daydreams always wrong and unrealThe lines between right and wrong are shades of gray.
The clouds burst with torrents of rainAnd our hearts feel the painEvery year comes with many dreamsWhich need a path of sunbeams
To remember, record our livesTo be close to Nature
To find harmony in the worldFull of pain, toil and discord
To find special moments To share with others and cherish
To paint a portrait or landscapeWith words and feelings
To be a historianTo be a photographer
To climb Mt. EverestTo view things at a distance.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Overrated Autumn by Eve Blohm - New York, NY
Overrated Autumn by Eve Blohm - New York, NY
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from the youngTo the young, daydreams are very real
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from our daysAre daydreams always wrong and unrealThe lines between right and wrong are shades of gray.
The clouds burst with torrents of rainAnd our hearts feel the painEvery year comes with many dreamsWhich need a path of sunbeams
A Carpenter's Song by Terry Lee – San Antonio, TX
A Carpenter's Song by Terry Lee – San Antonio, TX
I am a wood working man: I swing a hammer, as best I can; I build the houses that you live in.
I chose each board and laid the grain; With my own fingers, set each nail in place: The life of a tree is not something to waste.
I have sweat and strained and often swore: Even shed my own blood on clothes I tore, To stand the walls and roof around your floor.
I built the door that you close behind you. I made the window out which you see through. Did you ever think that I have a name, too?
When you move in and invite your guests To the numbered street where you lay your head to rest: It may not be perfect, but I did my best.
I do this job I love for my meager pay; In hopes that the future will come some day: And I'll have a home too, where my children will play.
BLAST FROM THE PAST: Conceit Magazine, August, 2018+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A poets pointed pondersOf a fathomed friend forgot,In a heart’s hinted hushOf a mind’s mazing mist. While waving willow wandsAt learning laden lines,Toward tinsel tainted taboos,Some surely showing signs. And you’re yearning yonderAs penned paper palesTo tearing tender tearsLike desire’s doubting dewdrops.
I chose each board and laid the grain; With my own fingers, set each nail in place: The life of a tree is not something to waste.
I have sweat and strained and often swore: Even shed my own blood on clothes I tore, To stand the walls and roof around your floor.
I built the door that you close behind you. I made the window out which you see through. Did you ever think that I have a name, too?
When you move in and invite your guests To the numbered street where you lay your head to rest: It may not be perfect, but I did my best.
I do this job I love for my meager pay; In hopes that the future will come some day: And I'll have a home too, where my children will play.
BLAST FROM THE PAST: Conceit Magazine, August, 2018+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Each a Tear by Terry Lee - San Antonio, TX
Each a Tear by Terry Lee - San Antonio, TX
A poets pointed pondersOf a fathomed friend forgot,In a heart’s hinted hushOf a mind’s mazing mist. While waving willow wandsAt learning laden lines,Toward tinsel tainted taboos,Some surely showing signs. And you’re yearning yonderAs penned paper palesTo tearing tender tearsLike desire’s doubting dewdrops.
When Sirens Shatter the Air by Loretta Diane Walker, September 1, 2019, Odessa, TX
When Sirens Shatter the Air by Loretta Diane Walker, September 1, 2019, Odessa, TX
"I read at a vigil for our community about an hour ago. I did not anticipate this. Dawn Weaks said to me this morning, “Loretta at a time like this, the community needs a writer.” I told her I had no words. When I started talking to her, she said, “You found your words.” At the end of the vigil, a couple of the ministers asked where they could get a copy of the poem and will it be published somewhere. With that, I am sharing it here."
When prayer claws through screams, makes its waythrough the dark tunnel of a traumatized throat.When silence is too heavy for the ears to carry.When the heart only knows allegro as tempo.When fear becomes flesh.When shrapnel rips through innocence.When CPR is a broken tool.When lead takes a father, a child.When windshields hold the memories of sudden violence.When the young press their faces in a rough field for protection.When the ones who vowed to save liveshug the ones who vowed to protect lives.When a hair-netted woman picks upwet sorrow drowned in tissues.When the pizza delivery guy delivers substance to families with famished spirits.When a community’s blanket of security tatters.When answers do not match questions.When grief begets grief, and grief, and grief,we reach for something, someone beyond ourselves.Some call it hope.Some call it love.Some call for God.In our blind reaching, we write a message with our tears. I don’t want to be alone.We are not alone.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
In memory of our big brother, Raymond Walker(November 1, 1947 to September 10, 2019)by Loretta Diane Walkeron behalf of James Walker, Chris and Lisa Walker,Vincent and Earnestine Walker, Mark and Kimberly Schiff
He was our GPS, our road map, our big brother.Before Apple’s seeds of cell phones,before Garmin, Tom Tom, and Miobecame dashboard passengers,phone booths, quarters, collect calls,and other motorists’ kindnesseswere our only roadside assistance plans.
He charted, with no alternate routes for detours,our destinations in his bright blue ink.Confident we’d arrive, wherever “there” is,trusted we’d read, follow road signs, and steerin directions he mapped out for us.
Our brother, a husband, a father, grandfather—now navigates his life’s legacies with a new compassof love, sets a course for them all to carry his nameinto places he’ll never visit.
Years travel through us like invisible roads.We record them as if they are mile markers.Who can trace the veins of distance on such roads?
Raymond, with your long slow smileand your love for speed, your sudden departureis like pain on a red Bugatti, racing through usso fast our tears cannot catch up.
But our hearts will keep reaching,knowing we can still touch youthrough the vehicle of memories.
When prayer claws through screams, makes its waythrough the dark tunnel of a traumatized throat.When silence is too heavy for the ears to carry.When the heart only knows allegro as tempo.When fear becomes flesh.When shrapnel rips through innocence.When CPR is a broken tool.When lead takes a father, a child.When windshields hold the memories of sudden violence.When the young press their faces in a rough field for protection.When the ones who vowed to save liveshug the ones who vowed to protect lives.When a hair-netted woman picks upwet sorrow drowned in tissues.When the pizza delivery guy delivers substance to families with famished spirits.When a community’s blanket of security tatters.When answers do not match questions.When grief begets grief, and grief, and grief,we reach for something, someone beyond ourselves.Some call it hope.Some call it love.Some call for God.In our blind reaching, we write a message with our tears. I don’t want to be alone.We are not alone.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Navigator by Loretta Diane Walker – Odessa, TX
Navigator by Loretta Diane Walker – Odessa, TX
In memory of our big brother, Raymond Walker(November 1, 1947 to September 10, 2019)by Loretta Diane Walkeron behalf of James Walker, Chris and Lisa Walker,Vincent and Earnestine Walker, Mark and Kimberly Schiff
He was our GPS, our road map, our big brother.Before Apple’s seeds of cell phones,before Garmin, Tom Tom, and Miobecame dashboard passengers,phone booths, quarters, collect calls,and other motorists’ kindnesseswere our only roadside assistance plans.
He charted, with no alternate routes for detours,our destinations in his bright blue ink.Confident we’d arrive, wherever “there” is,trusted we’d read, follow road signs, and steerin directions he mapped out for us.
Our brother, a husband, a father, grandfather—now navigates his life’s legacies with a new compassof love, sets a course for them all to carry his nameinto places he’ll never visit.
Years travel through us like invisible roads.We record them as if they are mile markers.Who can trace the veins of distance on such roads?
Raymond, with your long slow smileand your love for speed, your sudden departureis like pain on a red Bugatti, racing through usso fast our tears cannot catch up.
But our hearts will keep reaching,knowing we can still touch youthrough the vehicle of memories.
What a Secretary Does by Celine Rose Mariotti - Shelton, CT
What a Secretary Does by Celine Rose Mariotti - Shelton, CT
From 8 am,She enters her officeTurns on her computer,Phone ringing,Meetings to schedule,Coffee to make,Letters to type,e-mails to answer,supplies to order,purchase orders to process,graphs and charts to make,lots of interruptions,lots of work to do,all with a smile,all in a day,very efficient,in every way,it’s what a Secretary does!++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When I was in high school, Junior Year My Mom and I flew to Waco I wanted to see Baylor, Dr. Brown took us around, All over the campus grounds To the classes too, We met a professor or two, We met his daughter too, Baylor is a great University, I wish I had gone there, But life at that moment was Confusing for me, I didn’t know where I wanted to go, And what I wanted to do, I ended up going to a local university, Life went in another direction, I sure would like to return to Texas, To see all the beautiful sights, My friend Tricia lives in Irving, She is such a delight, I hope to go to Texas someday soon, When all the blue bonnets are in bloom.
Seeing Baylor by Celine Rose Mariotti - Shelton, CT
When I was in high school, Junior Year My Mom and I flew to Waco I wanted to see Baylor, Dr. Brown took us around, All over the campus grounds To the classes too, We met a professor or two, We met his daughter too, Baylor is a great University, I wish I had gone there, But life at that moment was Confusing for me, I didn’t know where I wanted to go, And what I wanted to do, I ended up going to a local university, Life went in another direction, I sure would like to return to Texas, To see all the beautiful sights, My friend Tricia lives in Irving, She is such a delight, I hope to go to Texas someday soon, When all the blue bonnets are in bloom.Seeing Baylor by Celine Rose Mariotti - Shelton, CT
THE EDITOR’S CHOICE – SUPREME POET OF THE MONTH – November, 2019 - AMULET POETRY MAGAZINE
THE EDITOR’S CHOICE – SUPREME POET OF THE MONTH – November, 2019 - AMULET POETRY MAGAZINE
Life by David M. Myles – Barberton, OH
Life by David M. Myles – Barberton, OH
I dug a hole today.Digging until I found sandCutting through rootsThat run only so deepThen stop, an incomplete foundationIt was the grave of a friend.Unexpected and unsettlingI hate goodbyes.As I refilled itI thought aboutThe specific weight of the earthCareful not to disturb himI was tender but resolved.I could sense the fear that invented god.It would have been a comfort.Had I better, or less, understandingHad my facts been less firmStanding stark in my mindLike the image of an empty graveHousing a piece of my heartPlaced like a child in a cradleTo wake no moreYet still I regard the groundWith a shovel in handAnd work to be done.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I have never cried in a dream beforeAt least I have no memory of itI have never woken with an image so clearMy eyes so red and wet with subconscious sorrowA woman I had loved arraigned to meet with meI saw her in a line waiting to get into where I waited.Not a day had passed of the twenty years on her faceHer eyes sparkled with a smile for me as she caught her first glimpse.I saw that smile on our wedding day those years agoI basked in the warmth of it, forgetting the parting and painA young star that shines it's light on a barren planet far distantWithout a hint of greenery or promiseShe introduced me to her newborn twins.I wept for joy and loss and grief and self pityPaths I'd denied myself, without knowingTill time had washed the choices from meLeaving me to wake unhappyTo a life I would have never have chosen
… (ellipsis) by David M. Myles – Barberton, OH
… (ellipsis) by David M. Myles – Barberton, OH
I have never cried in a dream beforeAt least I have no memory of itI have never woken with an image so clearMy eyes so red and wet with subconscious sorrowA woman I had loved arraigned to meet with meI saw her in a line waiting to get into where I waited.Not a day had passed of the twenty years on her faceHer eyes sparkled with a smile for me as she caught her first glimpse.I saw that smile on our wedding day those years agoI basked in the warmth of it, forgetting the parting and painA young star that shines it's light on a barren planet far distantWithout a hint of greenery or promiseShe introduced me to her newborn twins.I wept for joy and loss and grief and self pityPaths I'd denied myself, without knowingTill time had washed the choices from meLeaving me to wake unhappyTo a life I would have never have chosen
Poetic Purpose by Eve Blohm - New York, NY
Poetic Purpose by Eve Blohm - New York, NY
To discover who we are,To enjoy the beauty of the Universe
To remember, record our livesTo be close to Nature
To find harmony in the worldFull of pain, toil and discord
To find special moments To share with others and cherish
To paint a portrait or landscapeWith words and feelings
To be a historianTo be a photographer
To climb Mt. EverestTo view things at a distance.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from the youngTo the young, daydreams are very real
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from our daysAre daydreams always wrong and unrealThe lines between right and wrong are shades of gray.
The clouds burst with torrents of rainAnd our hearts feel the painEvery year comes with many dreamsWhich need a path of sunbeams
To remember, record our livesTo be close to Nature
To find harmony in the worldFull of pain, toil and discord
To find special moments To share with others and cherish
To paint a portrait or landscapeWith words and feelings
To be a historianTo be a photographer
To climb Mt. EverestTo view things at a distance.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Overrated Autumn by Eve Blohm - New York, NY
Overrated Autumn by Eve Blohm - New York, NY
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from the youngTo the young, daydreams are very real
When autumn comes again, it stealsThe sunshine and smiles from our daysAre daydreams always wrong and unrealThe lines between right and wrong are shades of gray.
The clouds burst with torrents of rainAnd our hearts feel the painEvery year comes with many dreamsWhich need a path of sunbeams
“Painting the Perfect Picture” by Craig Rondinone - Allentown, NJ
“Painting the Perfect Picture” by Craig Rondinone - Allentown, NJ
I amPainting the perfect picture,Coloring the canvas with my words,Drawing the outline with metaphors,Sketching the story with similes.Watch while my rhyme is the brushThat gives life to this plain parchment.I can coerce a brighter shine from the sunVia a different shade of yellowWith just a simple adjective.It is too much power for a mere mortal.I am a magician and my lettersAre waving words like wands, CreatingOptical illusions,Verbal imaginations,Perfect pictures.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Once upon a friendshipI thought you were as close to perfectionAs perfection could get.You were a circle with a bijou corner.A desert with one lone weed.If you possessed a character flawIt was that you were forgiving.Too many friends told you too many liesAnd everyone was let off the hookLike flailing trout allowed to escapeBy a sympathetic fisherman.Whether the crime was paying you limited attention,Breaking your pristine heartOr making you cry torrid tearsThe criminals were given probationInstead of serious jail time.You finally became flawless one day,One day too soon for me.I did wrong and said “sorry”But apologizing did not work as wellAs it did for the other offenders.I had been a friend for so many yearsWith no blemishes or convictionsOn my spotless record.Yet it counted for nothing becauseThe judge wore black to my trialInstead of the usual white blouse with blue jeans.Have you forgotten how to forgive?One mistake and now I shall liveWithout you as my allyAnd without an appeal?Please reconsider and change your ways.Cluttering my thoughtsFor the rest of my daysIs how I can convince you To free me from your cell.Why did you pick such an inopportune timeTo become the perfect person?
“Have You Forgotten How To Forgive?” by Craig Rondinone - Allentown, NJ
“Have You Forgotten How To Forgive?” by Craig Rondinone - Allentown, NJ
Once upon a friendshipI thought you were as close to perfectionAs perfection could get.You were a circle with a bijou corner.A desert with one lone weed.If you possessed a character flawIt was that you were forgiving.Too many friends told you too many liesAnd everyone was let off the hookLike flailing trout allowed to escapeBy a sympathetic fisherman.Whether the crime was paying you limited attention,Breaking your pristine heartOr making you cry torrid tearsThe criminals were given probationInstead of serious jail time.You finally became flawless one day,One day too soon for me.I did wrong and said “sorry”But apologizing did not work as wellAs it did for the other offenders.I had been a friend for so many yearsWith no blemishes or convictionsOn my spotless record.Yet it counted for nothing becauseThe judge wore black to my trialInstead of the usual white blouse with blue jeans.Have you forgotten how to forgive?One mistake and now I shall liveWithout you as my allyAnd without an appeal?Please reconsider and change your ways.Cluttering my thoughtsFor the rest of my daysIs how I can convince you To free me from your cell.Why did you pick such an inopportune timeTo become the perfect person?