My Parents Goodbye’s

 

Father

It was a surprise attack

No, it was a sneak attack

Damn those heart attacks

I never said goodbye

 

I was a teenager

Father was a salesman

His last day he worried about the numbers

The next day he was and worried no more

I never said goodbye

 

I remember him in bits and pieces

Like a box of popcorn

The only memories are the bits and pieces left on your shirt

I never said goodbye

 

Mother

Her way to exit

Was no surprise attack

Cancer

Cancer, like a cat, plays with you

The game had several rounds

Lasted years

 

We said goodbye

In that final hour I stroked her leg

I felt like a seven year old

Holding on to her dress

Don’t lose me Mom

We said goodbye

 

Father and Mother

Mother’s long goodbye

Father’s quick exit

I realize now

Life is one long goodbye

Final words

Are in the living

 

____________

Weddings*

She danced

Holding her dress

💓

He danced

Holding her heart

💓

Weddings

A moment

A celebration

A birth

A birth of joy

💓

The young

Alcohol excited their exuberance

💓

The old

Alcohol excites their memories

💓

The band plays on

Playing songs that vibrate a chord

A chord in us all

The chord that all is precious

Laughter and tears

Are heard between sets

💓

Weddings are a precious gift

Between life’s sets

💓

*Dedicated to Mandy and Brian

Names

Names

Give them names

The hungry, the homeless, the beaten

Give them names

The dissenters, migrants and war weary mothers

Josh

Mohammed

Jessica

Jose

Yolanda

Give them names

The jobless, the jailed, the fanatics

Give them names

The orphans, the dying, the poor

Carol

Mark

Yusuf

Susanne

Teresa

Give them support

a home, dignity, work

Give them a reason

Share your humanity, your voice, your talents

Jesse

Rebecca

Hans

Nora

Dominic

Give them your vote

Your activism, your government

Give them peace

Oppose wars, discrimination and greed

Mia

Elijah

Leah

Jake

Samantha

Give them a name

==

Oasis

Oasis

What young man doesn’t like to roam the desert

Hot and sultry

So many hills and curves to hide in

Territory constantly being searched.

The search for the oasis

is exhausting

But it hardens most men

Shrubs hide the well

The well of pleasure and life

Old men also roam the desert

The hills and curves are oh so familiar

It offers comfort

A place of rest

A place of restoration

The softness of the well

Compliments his own softness

The well of pleasure and life

Mess

 

Mess

Get up, look back, a beautiful mess

Non better then an unmade bed

Thoughts of who took off that dress

When worries left my head

Rapt in the unkept

Room for discord

Such a joy

Extol

Love

String

String

 I found a string this morning

Amidst the leaves

Near a bench

The air had that morning scent

A scent of autumn

A scent of stars

I walked to pick it up

Crunching leaves with every step

My scarf secures me with warmth

I squeeze the string

Longing to find you on the other end

A Face

A Face

There is a face etched in my mind

A face ever so kind

I spotted that face visiting my hometown

A face I have known for so long

Loving and gentle as a beautiful song

A moment in time oh so strong

Half a century passed like the mist of a white gown

I knew that smile, a circle came around

Now An old lady, still in my hometown

Same house

Same furniture

Pictures of her husband, long gone

Pictures of her children

Dusty

Cracked

Brown

Each picture reflects a life aging

Each picture reflects a love raging

Each picture reflects a moment in time

As a child we left with anxiety

Immigrated to a land across the sea.

Now, I’m still moved by her ageless face of love,

As She poured a cup of tea

with a symbol of a dove

She died soon after

But here is my thought

She left a legacy with just her smile

Her touch

Her love

 Her care

How will we present the face we share

In 50 years will someone care

?

Reduction sauce

Reduction Sauce

Standing in the kitchen.

watching

Cradling a glass of merlot.

watching

Her hands, stirring, the reduction sauce.

She stirs,

I am reduced in thought.

Thoughts of those hands.

Holding children.

Holding me.

Those hands have held my head in tears.

In love.

watching.

Those hands have shaped me.

I am the sauce.

reduced to awe.

elated to be in her vessel.

Starbucks and Me

Starbucks and Me.

 

I fancy Starbucks.

Such an enchanted place,

full of civil people.

Cooperative staff act as butlers.

A grande skinny cappuccino with 1/2 pack of raw sugar and a light sprinkle of chocolate powder doesn’t raise an eye brow.

 

The coffee is good.

Not great – but good.

 

Starbucks informs me of hunger in Africa

I like to buy coffee there because it’s helps those people.

Starbucks is green.

Every cup is made from some thing recycled.

Every cup asks me to recycle.

 

Clientele cradle their cups while debating in delicate dialog.

Laptops glow with enlightenment to the wi fi set.

Yes, I order my brew while mingling with intellectuals.

 

You walk away feeling honorable.

A good potion,

guiltless deeds

and all the while sustaining the earth.

I do derive pleasure from Starbucks.

 

And then,

then I go on with life,

gratified I saved the earth.

Gratified I helped the hungry.

Yet, no one notices

the beggar at the curb.

Why not recycle his life with gentle words and deeds?

Yes, Starbucks is an honorable experience,

but the beggar begs to differ.

 

Don’t be fooled.

Starbucks caters to the ME in us, not the WE in us.

 

Doors

Doors

Yearning to go back engulfs me now,

but what is back, the past, a thought,

a song, no, a point in time.

The past does not exist,

there is no back door.

Front door’s jammed.

The Living room,

there is

time.