Posts for June 2, 2025 (page 12)

I recall...

You said "I love you" too soon
Then you flew me to the moon
And... It didn't take much
To be convinced of your love

They said I was what you needed,
That you came broken and defeated
Your touch was constant
Your voice... Heaven sent

I made you "better," you said
Claimed without me you'd be dead
Yes, it was all about you,
While I dodged daggers you threw

I recall... 

The "waiting" and worried nights,
Followed by merciless fights
Your words of venom erupted
And my untethered soul, disrupted

Attacks that lacerated my spirit
Shocked how quickly the fear hit
While your eyes blazed of fire
      It was then... 
Your thrown grew even higher

I recall... 

Definitively splitting you,
Unequivocally, in two
Tolerate "Bad" for what "Good" would do
But... Then, apologies became few

How vastly the tables shifted,
Through pieces of me you sifted
Finding weak spots here and there
Knowing which parts to tear

I recall...

When you went from red to green
And from warmth to cold and mean
Then to red and back again
But your pull would always win

Captivated by the high you'd give
Weathered by the lies you live
Smothered, my breath you'd take
Uncovered what you couldn't fake

I recall...

The shivers down my spine,
The tears that finally weren't mine
The desperation in your voice,
Intent to manipulate my choice

I recall...

A haunted vision of myself
I looked so small, just a shell
Starving body, starving heart
Broken pieces, torn apart

I recall...

Moments of gathering shattered pieces
Dead eyes that forgot what peace is

I recall...

When my greatest fear was you leaving me,
Then it became of how you treated me

I recall...

Hiding, lights off, on my kitchen floor
Through tears I said, "No More"

What I recall...

Is that it was real,
What you did, you can't conceal 
And I will keep recalling
To keep myself from falling...

For you,
    To you,
        Or 
         Because of you
Ever
    Again.

“Tell me, what else should I have done?” Mary Oliver

I call her NannyCat these days, DotDot, I mean
or DotDotDot in full, an ellipses, an invitation to paws.
for a moment.

You would love her, I know it.

I am playing at being a poet, 
Turning the wild unjudgment of nature into commodifiable verse
To weave my existence into this tapestry like I belong
or try to.
NannyCat nee DotDot hollers from the doorway, 
an insistent, meepy roar
again, again, to me, her misplaced charge
to get the hell in the house and take a nap.

She speaks her admonishment in full sentences as I gather
    My beverages:
                A caffeine, a sweet, a water, mostly-ice &
    My wits:
                -List pending-
and follow her into the house

I am meowed to bed 
Belly biscuited to tuck me tight.
Makes sure I am settled 
Then goes to guard the front window

There, the sun dapples just right
Across brindled fur amid her yellow, fluffy blanket

I made that. Just for her.
I am more than just this desperate need for nurturing.
I have always known how to love you.

you were my teenage basketball
not in the sense that I dribbled you
(though, yeah, I guess I did)
but more like
you were always in my hands
in my head
bouncing around
keeping me up at night
making me think I could fly
if I just jumped hard enough.
you were the sound of sneakers on asphalt
and that one streetlight humming at 9pm
when I should’ve gone home but didn’t
because I wanted one more shot
one more word
one more maybe
from you.
you weren’t good for me
not in the way that late-night caffeine isn’t
but god, you lit me up.
every look was a fast break
every text was a buzzer beater
and I swear, when you laughed
I won.
we don’t talk now
and that’s fine
I’ve traded hoops for sleep
and metaphors for silence
but every once in a while
when I walk past a court
I still hear your name
echo off the rim.

Baby copperheads,
Papa Wolf patrolling den,
Elk warning bugles
Calf hidden in the tall grass
Resisting the urge to charge.

This year cicadas sing, and
their tune echoes in all these hollows as
they fly between trees on a quest for
what comes next.

I heard a couple whippoorwills and
a bobwhite the other night,
watched a timberdoodle cross the road,
and a giant pileated woodpecker
claim a tree on my path.

Chicory blooms along roadsides,
vibrant indigo against the greenery,
daisies dot fields, and the peach trees
hold hundreds of small, fuzzy fruits.

Inky caps pop up on abandoned hay
bales in clusters of untouched decay.
Soon chanterelles will weave between roots
through the woods and black trumpets
will peak from leaf litter, and I will watch for
them to add a little zest to my meals.

This year, I am trying harder to see
these hopeful signs at least
twice as often as I watch the news.

                “Fear not:  for they that be with us 
                 are more than they that be with them.” 

                                                — II Kings 6:16

In the wasteland, there is no peace.
‘Peace, Peace,’ they say when there is no peace.
There is no peace, Lord, but that which cometh
        from your mighty hand
and mine are lifted, outstretched, and pleading.

Mine enemies lay in earthen trenches
in wait, their schemes a constant barrage
against the gates of my mind;

And I, no prophet, no priest, no king,
no psalmist with practiced tongue,
no David with sling and stone, let alone
the sword of giants–

Friend is foe, and thine foes are
innumerable, like grains of sand
on the coasts of my heart.

Mine own body betrays me;
        my stomach twists and retreats.
Mine mouth murmurs against me
        and the words I try
        to speak in love.

Who is like the Lord our God, Who dwells
        on high, Who humbles Himself to behold
                the things that are in the heavens
                        and in the earth? 

You are my refuge, my strong tower;
in You will I trust.  In You will I find
the peace that guided my fathers
and the hope that shaped all things
that were shaped.

                                  I plead You hear Thy servant’s prayer;
                                  turn not Your face or Your hand
                                  from the length or the depth
                                  of the day You wrote
                     
                                  as poetry, before
                                  the turn

                                  where I was
                                  born.

When Emily advises
admonishes
directs
us to tell it slant
I wonder what
has caught
the corner of her eye?

                      Mother Nature Teaches  ~
                                        via 
                                      Geese
                              m i g r a t i t i n g
                                   home again 
                                     intuitively
                                      knowing
                                      One = All
                                   weak  &  well
                                vital              vigor
                           flight                     soaring
                         long                               with
                    wings                                    kept
              tip-to-tip                                         support
           uplifting                                               the way for All 

I got started gardening
with Roma and Beefsteak
seedlings freely given
from Sharon, in Maryland.
Two big pots I filled with earth
tomato stakes and green Velcro tape.
Sitting on the back deck
creeping up like the kudzu on the trees.
My grandparents always had a garden
they loved tomatoes.
I watched Chiraag in tenth grade
eat one like an apple
at lunch, most every day.
I don’t much care for tomatoes.
I ate my beefsteaks, halved
with salt and pepper.

I planted cucumber from seed
under the deck in ole Kentucky
two weeks before the twins were born.
In the hustle and bustle
of a toddler and two newborns
I forgot they were growing there
until I hit one clunk with the mower.
Those cucumbers were grown
out of sight, untended,
and we ate all twenty or more
in less than five days.

I took a year off gardening outside
grew some hydroponic basil and lavender.
I didn’t have the bandwidth
third shift and father of three
to do much other than refill water
and add plant food every other week.
Trimmed too much basil
my thirst for pesto unquenchable.
Dill and mint
outgrew their container.
I gave up the hydroponics
as soon as it was warm enough
this spring.

I have ‘matos growing on the back deck again.
Made a small front-yard garden
with peppers, basil, lettuce, radish
and of course cukes.
I water it daily,
spread coffee grounds around the base
none of it might grow.
Birds and squirrels, bugs and moles
they all want their piece.
It’s not only about the harvest.
They call it gardening. Planting.
Not harvesting and eating.
It’s about being in the sun
breathing in the crisp outdoor air
bare hands in the soil
soaking in the same things
the growing plants need.
Watching the cicadas deposit their cases
do they wish for a taste?
I hope I can grow some ‘matos and cukes
home grown produce
ruined the grocery for me.