I Found an Acorn in my Teacup

acorn
Day 7 Prompt: a poem about luck and fortuitousness

I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered how it faired. Was in put there by a small boy hiding outdoors from his brother? Was it put there by a young girl infatuated with her lover? What secret does the acorn hold in its placement in my cup? Would I have to consult the ocean to bring me clarity? And why such a thing be suddenly linked to tea?

I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered how I could be so lucky. Was it the luck of finding money folded in a purse not used in many months? Was it the luck of finding a winning fortune in my Chinese fortune cookie? Was it the luck of seeing money falling out of the pocket of a girl in tight pants? Were her cheeks offering me money, knowing I needed tea?

I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered about love. Would it always be a one-sided mystery fraught with tears and disappointment? Did love begin like the small seed acorn and then grow strong into a tree? Would I ever find my soulmate? You know, the one just for me? Would I spend my life mourning lovers and forever crying in my tea?

I found an acorn in my teacup and I thought, “lucky me!” Love, light and fleeting, like a small bird in flight will find me. Love, true and binding, lasting through time and space will be mine. Love will tangle our hearts and lives together like the glistening spider web. We will spoon and cuddle, ever close, in the small, warm kitty bed.

I found an acorn in my teacup and I thought, “lucky me!” Someday my luck will change. My happy tears will fall like diamonds in the glimmering sea. Joy and laughter will fill the air, forever following me. I’ll be loved and warmly cherished. I’ll be invited in for tea.

When The Gray Birds Fly

pg-10-winter-pa_80102bNaNoWriMo #6

The day was gray and filled with clouds.

Birds flew against the white sky like silver flecks in a snow globe.

They say flocking birds fly taking souls to heaven.

The birds told me I was not in time.

I glanced at the flocking birds as numbness encapsulated my soul.

Disbelief crept into my thoughts as time was not on my side.

The birds flew higher with your soul as the silent ambulance flashed by.

Just days before our eyes met for the final time.

I knew it would not be long as gray had infiltrated you from the inside.

Gray clutched my heart and squeezed.

I knew you only had a little time.

You lay there warm and I stoked your hair, your face, your  hand.

I felt good as your suffering was gone.

I felt good as you were at peace in so many ways.

Gray silence was left in your wake.

Silence and the need for me to be strong.

The gray birds spirited away but you came back in a gossamer veil.

Like Lazarus you were transformed.  A new body, a new smile, eternal life.

You, the You, you could not be in life.

The better you, the happy you, that you could only be in death.

I was so happy to see you and know that things are better on the other side.

Cha-click-bang. Cha-click-bang.  Such an odd sound to awaken to,

It was you with one last message for me

Cha-click-bang. Cha-click-bang.  You demanded I get up out of a deep sleep.

Cha-click-bang. Cha-click-bang! I obeyed and went straight to your room.

As I walked that demanding whisper faded as alertness moved in.

Words you never told me, I heard for the first time whispered softly beneath the words of a song.

“I will always love you.”

I knew it was you talking to me for the last time.

It’s been six years since the gray birds flew.

Six years since that last whisper from you.

It will be a long time till we meet again.

That day will be gray and filled with clouds.

It will be a day when the flocking birds fly; fly my soul right up to heaven.

Until that day Dad…goodbye.

Enigma

Enigma of mine, riddle in time,
I want you.

Born of concertos loud in pleasure,
drowned in drums.

Sweet dreamed and longed for.
Always talked of.
Not afar.

Real by the blue dot.
Real by my doc.
Real by me.

Horrid suddenly. Simmered in sin.
Loathed by he.
He called your father.
He hailed the reaper.
Cowards’ spawn.

Stayed by my boot tips.
Gone forever, he who reaps.

Mystery of life,
love-bathed by one.
Mother love.

Enigma of mine, riddle in time,
I love you.

I will die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.

NAPOWRIMO # 2 write a poem predicting your own death.

Peaceful  I will go.
I will die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.
That is how I want to go.
Let me slip uneventful into the underworld.
Sprites and angels and heavenly bodies welcome me
with open arms and mellifluous voices.
Let me cross the dark abyss on a sailing ferry
complete with all my favorite niceties.
From escargot to wine and books….
From Paganini to shoes and lamb.
The risen lamb. The only lamb.
Salvation lamb.
Let me sail away with these things gambolling behind my eyes.
Let the smell of the sea be the last I draw in.
Let the waves gently rock me back and forth.
No fanfare needed.
No CSI. No NCIS. No “CLEAR.”
Just silence and a gentle release of my hand.
Peaceful is how I want to go.
I want to die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.

The Sea: NaPoWriMo #17

I wallowed in the waves.
I blew in the wind.
I grew dizzy watching water swirl around my ankles.

I was.
The.
Sea.

And it was me.
I was the sea.
It emptied me.
It filled me.
It happied my soul.

I flew like the birds.
I captured the wind.
I rode on its’ roar.

I was the sea
and it was me.

I.

Was.

The.

Sea.

Each New Day

The new year is coming and my things seem old.
I want a new beginnning, if the truth be told.
How do I get that?
I am in the same old rut.
I wonder how to do things different,
I am ready for a change.
The same, the same, the same.
My routine seems set for SAME.
I feel a breakout coming.
I just wonder how.
I want a needed breakout and I want it NOW!

The new year is dawning.
We are in it’s eve.
The new year is dawning.
A new beginning is about to come.
I want a new beginning with some excitement and dash.
I want a new beginning.
Let’s go…I want to dash!

Going Home: NaPo WriMo #10

The Going Home celebration was sudden.
Three days before Christmas he was chosen.
Cold and gray and surreal was that day.
A flock of black birds flew his spirit to the sky.
I had to be strong.
I could not cry.

On the gurney he lay, still warm to the touch.
I caressed his face, ran my fingers in his hair.
It was like silk and whiter than before.
He was still warm.
Please wake up.

My plea went unaswered as tears leaked from my eyes.
We had to go.
We had to go.
We had to go home without him.

Planning began with wild calls to all.
I was the one who did it all.
I was strong as others mourned.
My mourning was alone, in the car, on the way home.

My mouth opened to let the gutteral screams out.
Tears flowed like a river.
My own soul was going to fly out.

Four day later the celebration began.
Testimonies, muic and a life in review.
Family together for the last look at you.

In the moment we are one in grief.
Solidarity will be over with you at rest.
You, surrounded by velvet and dressed in your best,
leave just memories of you at your best.

Alone I will visit your memories.
Alone I can visit you.
Time as the enemy brings fading.
Thanks for the dreams and
I thank you for the song.