I have been dealing with loss lately. So we’ll purge that from my system once and for all, and the best we can with this prompt. Write about something or someone you’ve lost. Or write the converse, something you’ve found or gained or won. Don’t lose sleep over writing a winning poem!
SARA’S POEM:
LOST AND FOUND
My sister and I are unhappy
each time Father’s Day rolls around. We have recently
added Mother’s Day. We imagine
what our parents would say,
today, about the upcoming election
and general chaos. Both were
politically involved.
Today in Manhattan, we celebrated
my Aunt Sylvia’s ninety-seventh birthday.
My cousin and I found each other
again after years. Nothing like a reunion
with Italian food and chocolate
blackout cake. We remember
with tears, those we have loved
and lost, but we smile and feel lucky
about those we still have.
##
WALTER’S POEM:
RESURRECTED
The phoenix rising,
back from the dead.
Lazarus called,
he wants his life back.
Lost in the depths
of a broken spirit,
left in the lurch
with much more to say.
You stand in silence,
wishing for the return
of your sanity, and
your security, and
everything else you’ve lost
or leaves you feeling empty;
dead from the floor up.
The randomness of words
tossed together with ease
and flair, brings your voice
from deep within you and
gives cause to express
every heartfelt pang,
poem and passion,
delivering your work
to an appreciative audience,
offering peace and
confidence to your lifeless
rhyme. Infusing your heart
and soul with the breath
of a million soft sighs,
for the poet has found
his promise and drive.
Once again alive.
Resurrected.
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
Responses
Both poems are gorgeous. Walt: I’m glad you have your words back!
Thank you, Vivienne! No more glad than I!
Walt and Sara, loved your leads on this prompt. Certainly parents and words are treasures lost and found in most poets’ hearts.
Thanks Damon. Mine will be gone 30 and 10 this Christmas. Their influence still lingers and their love is still felt! I thank God for that!
Sara: So glad you were reunited with your cousin. What better than Italian food! Chocolate blackout? I’ve never heard of it, but oh the very sound of it. 🙂
Both of you lost parents too soon in life. I’m so sorry … and for this most recent loss of yours, Walt. I pray for you, your wife, and your gorgeous girls.
Walt: your poetry always strikes a chord. And that’s what it’s all about. ❤
And would that chord be a Q# (Q sharp)? Yes, That’s what it’s about, use our muse to touch something deep within each other!
IN MY SCRAPBOOK
I used to think in the photo
sometimes your eyes
would blink, your lips
tremble slightly.
I would stare hard and long,
Waiting for miracles,
for you to wave
your hand at me.
In dusky light, in morning sun,
I stared away,
pretending life
had never changed,
that death had failed to conquer you,
that you had found
a place to hide
far from Death’s wrath.
I told myself to keep the faith.
You would return,
absent yourself
from the spring scene
of that photo, leave behind trees
and your sidewalk,
and suddenly
come back to who
you were to me,
father and friend,
not a snapshot anymore, not
old memories
poured into this broken heart,
not a shadow
but flesh and bone.
#
Understood
“Pretending life had never changed.” This says it all, doesn’t it? Well done, Sal.
So beautifully written, as always Sal, and heartbreakingly true.
Wonderful and lasting tribute, Sal! No matter how distant in time they are, we recall the flesh and bone person!
Oh to have the flesh and bone father back… what I would ask and say and do… beautiful longing Sal.
DON’T BOTHER THE BLACK BELTS
In Warsaw, a lass was accosted
by a lecher whose locks were all frosted.
He enticed with biscotti;
she knew her karate,
so she gave him a zloty and lost it.
Had to google zloty. 😀 Lovin’ the creative take on the prompt!
Absolutely love it!
Ah Popolsku! Funny limerick!
Ha! Had to look up zloty too. Fun limerick.
Walt, for me your poem moves poetry beyond practice and discipline to be a living thing.
Another pursuit of a poet, to breathe life into mere words. If I accomplished that here, then I’ve done my job. Thanks for that comment, William.
Sara, for me your poem crerates a vision of a dinner by candlelight. In my case it’s a seder I used to see through the dining-room window but the ambience is the same. Wonderful.
Loss can be peculiar
Sometimes trading nothing
For something
The Toledo Poetic Dynamo strikes again! Love this in its brevity and message.
Wow … thanks much, Pard!
You’re welcome. And now you’re labeled for life! 😀
Marie, so true… and said so succinctly. Nice.
Thank you!
LIMBURGER
Some cheeses
grow better with age
but this cheese
does not please;
as it ages, it rages
and the stomach turns.
I agree, love cheese can’t stomach the limburger! Cute!
HA!!
You said a nose full, William!!
oh yes… not a cheese I’m enamored to.
Take Backs
I long for the time when we were small
when sisters biggest fights involved a ball,
who got the front seat or the red popsicle,
who had to dry the dishes or set the table.
I wish “no take backs” still involved a toy trade
instead of the words that can now forever keep us apart.
Oh, Linda … so much heart in this. And ache.
Thank you Marie!
This is the toughest barrier to scale. I’ve been in that dilemma and know what you’re speaking of. Stay strong, my friend!
Linda, you’ve pictured well this angst made deeper by memories of simpler cares. Well done friend.
Losing It
I am the Queen of Crazy!
My throne is my recliner
my scepter is a computer mouse.
I demand complete nonsense in my kingdom.
I rule with jokes and laughter.
No Laws or militia allowed.
I have to admit though,
chaos reigns.
HAHAHA! Such a creative take on the prompt!
I love when it rains chaos and dogs! Smiles here, Linda!
Ha what fun! Recliner queens (and kings) have all power… within their limited reign and reach.
Lost My Mind
It has to be here somewhere!
I had it just before.
Don’t try to help me find it:
I’ll lose it even more.
I’ll get it back together,
I’ve done it in the past.
I’ll be quite sane tomorrow,
but it will never last.
Of all the things I’ve searched for
this one eludes me most,
mental instability
haunts me like a ghost.
Oh look! I think I found it,
a spark of sanity;
Though I’m more fun without it,
I think you will agree.
Great sense of humor about it all. I’m right there with ya!
🙂 thanks for the laughter.
Robin Williams called it that “little spark of madness”. We all carry that within us, Linda. Expressed so well!
Linda, love this frantic short-lined search. Vague panic. Loved it.
Thank you all very much for allowing me to vent my silliness!
Everyone’s silliness needs venting from time to time. Otherwise this place will smell like clown!
Truly lovely poems from you both, Sara and Walt.
I thank you, Marilyn!
This was also inspired by Miz Quickly’s “Changes” prompt, so I’ve wiggled two into one here.
❤️
Pressed Between Estop and Ethiopia
I’ve never heard a cuckoo sing.
I lost that moment of spring
to the big city, to its noise,
and roar and smoke and feet,
which might explain why I press
flowers and leaves between
unabridged dictionary pages,
(usually between estop and Ethiopia)
in weighty books and scrapped paper,
and waxed sheets for swollen stems.
And those autumn leaves, just fallen,
gaunt and red and turned copper,
lined, prodded and straightened
like a story retold for bedtime,
suitable pages of heavy darkness,
hidden like illicit love letters.
And then years later, by accident,
you stumble across that pressed moment,
there between estop and Ethiopia,
and its phantom wings are thrown
open into a long and found embrace.
Such a fragile beauty it’s become,
an emaciated memory so near dust.
A faint twitch of sleep that dreams.
Like an acorn — lost by stealth.
How fine these places, inside a book and between smoothed papers, to find those stowed away moments. I love this one Misty.
Be still my heart … such elegance and beauty I could never pen …
But of course you do! Your poems are gorgeous!
Thank you. But I don’t write anything like you consistently do. I soooooooo admire your work.
Thank you so blush….. I mean much. 😉
😉 ❤
Two for one always works for me! I love where this took me! And I certainly must get over to MQ to check in!
My God and my Bod Both Love a Little Humor
I’m getting around
in a used body now,
recently found
it’s when, not how,
that matters.
We’re just passing through,
a few times like new,
usually in tatters.
All things ephemeral,
they come and they go,
it’s a good thing, in general,
to think this, to know
that if we would be happy,
to prosper, to thrive,
it’s best to be joyful
about being simply alive.
We all want to live
as long as we might,
to keep keeping on,
to fight the good fight,
and continue with chances
to come up to bat,
but we don’t like what happens
to a body which does that.
It’s all over too soon,
in a flash, in a blink,
and none of us has
as much time as we think.
As for me, I think,
before my last bow,
I’ll aim to be present
In the here and the now,
And what will I think
as I lay down to rest?
I hope when I’m gone,
I’ll be less of a pest.
Daniel, I feel your dilemma and agree with your conclusion…. oh, oh no…not THAT ‘conclusion!’ Stay around a while a least.
One day at a time, my friend…one day at a time
I just love that personality of yours that shines through in your words. Yep … we need those words to keep on comin’ for many years ahead. ❤
We just got you back here. I can take your pestering more than your silence, my friend! Let’s not be in such a hurry! 😀
Missing Something Missing
I lost something small,
hardly noticeable at all,
except to me.
Now that it’s gone
it practically ruins my day
I’ve lost my way.
I’m aware that it’s missing
every moment
and I’m wishing
as the week passes
to replace the stem
for my glasses.
Yes, the optical irritant! I hate when that happens! 😀 A warm chuckle here!
[…] Shared at Poetic Bloomings – Prompt 187: Winning and Losing […]
With a crazy “turned upside down” week, I have found myself returning often to a place of seeking peace.
If you want to see a picture accompanying this poem, go here: https://whenwordsescape.wordpress.com/2016/06/24/winning-at-life/
I will be posting this for this week’s Inform Poets prompt, as well.
WINNING AT LIFE
Morning glory
leaves me feeling
hopeful; kneeling,
I ask for grace.
Full of love He
turns to my face…
here, in this place
you seek, I give
grace and mercy.
You’ve learned to live
My heart, your sieve–
and peace remains.