PROMPT #396 – CHOOSE LIFE

The greatest gift any of us have ever received is of course, this life we live. It is all we are and ever will be. It may not always be easy, but we work at it and make it work as best we can. In all things, we should choose life!

This is the life. It’s a wonderful life. Life is worth living … you’ve heard many turns of phrase concerning life. Find one and be inspired. Give your words the breath they deserve. Choose life! Write a Life poem.

MARIES CHOOSE LIFE POEM:

GLIOBLASTOMA

She heard the hard truth:
Treatment might extend her life
to wait for a cure.

Faced with the choice to
treat or go home, she went home
to wait, to go Home. 

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

Delores Graber Good
November 8, 1939 – October 26, 2010
#eternallife 

WALTS EXISTENCE:

WHERE LIFE’S TRAIL ENDS

Off to find where the treasure of life is stored. We
travel along the pathways for they shall
lead us along in our sanguine walk.
We will talk to birds speaking in feathered tongues with
nary a misunderstanding nor demanding tone. A
communion with nature, hands held aloft as we walk
to any destination we please for surely that
is where the trail ends and all us friends will be glad. It is
all that we have treasured, doled and measured
to share with all hearts that conjoin, and
as we get older, although our pace may slow,
we will continue to stroll life’s walkway, and
take our pleasures from the bench where we will watch…

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2022 

“Golden Shovel” Poetry

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch…

from “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein

107 thoughts on “PROMPT #396 – CHOOSE LIFE

  1. Choose life
    For the unborn
    Give them the chance to live
    The same chance that was given you
    Never override God’s will

  2. Life is
    A gift from God
    One only He can give
    Each life comes with a perfect plan
    All we need do is live it

  3. I Heard a Quiet

    I heard a quiet;
    it came, so loud and still, just after her last breath.

    In all the noisy waitings in my mind,
    the clangs of futile questions such as
    who would I call first,
    the rumbling of grief just there below the surface of my heart,
    the nay-says of my own doubts over whether I had handled all things well,
    the siren of a less than two week alarm that she was leaving from this ninety-two year stay.

    Amid this noise inside if me,
    I heard a quiet.
    It was a solid sound

    It was louder, surer, than any other noise.

    It was the echo of a joy I could hear, but not perceive.

    I heard a quiet;
    it was a sound I never will unhear.

    © Damon Dean, 2022

  4. LIVING THE LIFE

    I share the same air as the rose bush,
    her flame, thorn and beauty are mine to bear.

    Our opulent blossom live the life under the sun;
    where deep, dark green foliage thrive.

    Our roots have deepened over the years.
    Our branches, branched—out over the stalk.

    Together we have rode cruel storms,
    stood firm against the elements of the day.

    © Benjamin Thomas

  5. Choosing Life…

    All people talk about these days
    Is that we have a choice,
    But
    Choices have consequences.
    Some are so-so-
    Others are pleasant,
    And others devastate
    And haunt us.

    I made many choices in my life,
    But more about lives of others.
    Some of those choices
    Have haunted and devastated me.
    Somewhere along the way…
    My life,
    Because of those choices,
    Became hollow…
    Day by day
    I grew farther away
    From the shores of life,
    And became a shell
    Upon a beach
    With holes, and
    Fading colors.

    I did not know it,
    But I was dying,
    And each day of denial…
    Was a choice I made.
    By embracing the denial…
    I grew closer to death.

    Until one faithful night
    I was visited by the dead…
    I knew I could leave…
    I wanted to leave…
    The choice was in front of me-
    As was my father
    Looking sober at me…
    I wanted to run to him,
    But I could not move.
    The distance for me
    Was less than fifteen feet,
    But I could not move.

    The choice was before me…
    I could leave or stay…
    And I asked why can’t
    I just drift away…
    What good was my life anyway?
    I hadn’t really been living after all.

    As night began to creep to dawn,
    I heard my mother snore.
    My choice was simple…
    I could not leave her
    To be alone.

    What would become of her
    If I was gone?

    In the end,
    I chose the life of another
    Over my own life,
    And was given back my life
    (That I was not really living)
    To live…

    When I told my mother
    My choice, and that my father was there.
    She said, “You stayed for me.
    You always loved him more.”
    I whispered to her,
    “No, I loved you both.”
    In those words, I healed her heart.

    We talk of choices…
    We don’t talk of consequences…
    Those choices are not made
    In a vacuum…
    Someone’s life will be affected.
    In the value of another’s life…
    I found the value of mine.

    In choosing life…
    I began to live…
    And met people
    I would not have met.
    Embraced love,
    And the power therein,
    And though each
    Morning is a struggle
    I get up and go on,
    I choose to live
    Another day
    For it is a gift
    I almost did not have.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    July 24, 2022

  6. THE SAINT UP THE ROAD

    I knew a man who always smiled;
    whose eyes were always warm and mild
    and seemed of sun to be compiled,
    just like a child. Just like a child.

    But yet, his days were filled with strife
    and hurts, it seemed, were always rife;
    but still he’d utter to his wife:
    “This is the life. This is the life.”

  7. John 14:6

    If you knew of a cure for cancer,
    but didn’t say anything,
    wouldn’t you be found negligent?

    If you knew a tornado was coming
    but didn’t warn anyone,
    wouldn’t that be cruel?

    If you came across a child lost in the woods
    and you knew the way, but left them to wander,
    wouldn’t that be a crime?

    We know the way to eternal life,
    yet we’re told to shut up
    and keep our religion to ourselves.

    “I am the way and the truth and the life.
    No one comes to the Father except through me.”
    I didn’t say it. Jesus did.

  8. “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.”
    – Oscar Wilde

    Life Lessons

    I start each day with quiet time,
    the mistakes of youth no longer mine,
    connecting with my true life source,
    and a poem will come, my own, of course.
    If my to-do list gets too loud, too long,
    overcrowding life with musts too strong,
    or my inbox screams for quick returns,
    I calm myself, for this I’ve learned,
    at this age It’s too late to be late,
    most outside demands can usually wait.
    If the demands are real, legitimate musts,
    I might seek help from one I trust,
    but first I’ll use my quiet time,
    reminded youth’s no longer mine,
    reconnect to my spiritual force,
    and a poem will come, my own, of course.

  9. College Life

    A Saturday morning
    whispered while
    I was downstairs
    doing my laundry
    when I
    was far from home.
    Upstairs in my study room
    my Statistics and Psychology
    books were shelved
    at my desk
    closed before
    the Friday get-together
    with coeds after class.
    Rain fell off-and-on
    and a spell was cast
    A home football game
    was played in the afternoon
    where heroes were made
    but I spent time
    while most people
    form the fraternity
    were gone.
    I listened to
    a new Badfinger album
    noticing
    one song was so somber.
    I spelled my time
    with a leisurely walk
    down tree-lined
    Hayward Avenue
    as leaves rustled in wind
    and spoke to me.
    I walked three blocks
    to a small mall
    as it lay in shadows
    of Friley Hall.
    In a record store
    I thumbed through albums
    to a touch of incense,
    I walked past posters
    in a hallway to an exotic
    pet store and gazed at a python
    on display while
    a man with a thick
    beard and thick glasses
    read from a book.
    A song once heard
    lingered
    a soft refrain
    while in my mind
    I knew I could be
    anything.

  10. Choose Life

    C reated in the image of God
    H e has a plan for each life
    O ne perfect plan for each boy
    O ne perfect plan for each girl
    S elected by the hand of God
    E ach uniquely individual

    L ife is precious
    I n His sight
    F orever and
    E ver

  11. Many Lifetimes In One

    I am well over the hill
    Now on the downward slope
    Sliding much faster than I like
    Barely any time to reminisce
    about the life that is passing
    all too quickly

    Just for a while I would like to
    sit and think what I have done
    where I have been and
    which hats I’ve worn

    How many lifetimes have I lived
    just in this one blessed lifetime?
    How many indeed

  12. Should I give to you my sweet autumn wine?

    Summer came and went in my remote life.
    The owls in the night witnessed it pass.
    Wild grapes of youth cut by a paring knife,
    Sheared the memories laid bare in the grass.

    Summer was a storm that tore at my soul.
    I thought I was lost and forgotten,
    But soft autumn came with air crisp and whole.
    Wild grapes now sweet I wrapped in soft silk cotton.

    It makes the best wine- those autumn wild grapes
    Fermented in memories and a choice for life
    A sensuous taste for pursuing escapes.
    For these days we toast to our golden life.

    Those wild grapes grew in summer on the vine,
    Should I give to you my sweet autumn wine?

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    July 24, 2022

  13. Choosing Life

    When my iron is low, depression sets in.
    Sleeping is calm, awake is not.
    Crying is the norm for me.
    The cats demand feeding.
    I don’t want to do
    Anything but
    Life calls and
    I choose
    Life.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    July 25, 2022

  14. Despite The Odds

    At times in life my mind motored toward death
    with feelings of hopelessness fueling the flame.
    Wondered how it would be to take a last breath,
    except how would I know if I’d reached my aim?

    It puzzles me how a young teenage girl
    had no sense of self or perception of worth–
    like a blank page waiting, corner unfurled
    for another’s words to pen the verse.

    I loathed my dependent self for years,
    that pressing need for someone at my side.
    Losses in life spawned paroxysms of tears.
    Now, in old age, I must be my own guide.

    I aspire to find some joy in each day,
    moment by moment keeping future at bay.

  15. Choices in life…

    I was never one to let other dictate
    The way I would choose to live.
    Some would call me a rebel.
    Others would be blunter and say
    She is closer to crazy than being sane.
    I wasn’t going into a box… I am who I am.

    The eyes are rolling, but I am who I am.
    There were those who tried to dictate,
    I would listen to what they would say,
    All the while I wanted to rebel,
    I would inwardly shout… this is how I live.
    I could see the anger for they thought they were sane.

    The thing is I always knew I was sane.
    Take me or leave me… I am who I am.
    If I choose not the wear the mantle of how others live
    Makes me a little quirky and a bit of a rebel.
    You make your choices I will make my life what I dictate,
    It doesn’t change me whatever you may say..

    I remember an aunt who attempted sweetly, I might say,
    To change my language and ended up wondering which one of us was sane.
    I laughed in good humor and with a smile that I did not dictate,
    With a wink I said, I love you dearly, but I am who I am.
    I told her I did not tell her how to live,
    And I was born to question things and be a bit of a rebel.

    But sometimes that being a rebel,
    Made me an outcast, for I heard what they did say.
    Sometimes I think maybe I should follow what they dictate,
    But then deep inside me I hear me say, I am who I am
    And to keep myself sane,
    I say to myself, this is the life I live.

    Yes, this is the life I live.
    I can see me old and wrinkled being a rebel
    When the nursing home staff tries to dictate
    Where I will eat, sleep, and whatever for I am who I am.
    They will have staff meetings and I can hear them say…
    We can’t seem to control her… maybe she really is in- sane.

    This is the life and I plan to live, and I am here to say I am sane.
    I know I am a bit of a rebel. No matter what you say
    Or attempt to dictate… I am who I am.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    July 25, 2022

  16. Good Life

    Life- much I have said,
    For those who have read
    Thank you.
    The many tears I shed.
    But looking ahead,
    It’s true
    The good life I’ve led
    Grateful, I have said,
    Thank you.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    July 26, 2022

  17. Our phone calls make my face beam.
    Your velvet voice ruffles my sensations.
    I think of my good life, but
    After I can’t sleep.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    July 26, 2022
    The dodoitsu often focuses on love or work with a comical twist.

  18. On Being Manic-depressive
    and Not Using the S-word

    How you would disappear
    into the void is not the stuff
    of polite conversation
    people prone to clattering forks
    and slurping wine
    in a sudden frenzy before the fall
    of silence as you examine the spot
    where the gravy boat left
    a brown stain on the white damask

    So you suck it up
    never drop the mask
    that might expose those days
    thoughts stinging like sleet
    piling up in the gutters
    in the spaces between the floorboards
    riding down the veins of the violets
    bunched beneath your very fingernails
    like beet pulp in canning season

    Insist on that word F.I.N.E. made famous
    by Ruth and her duck Rosa in the series
    by Louise Penny that you read like an addict

    Instead of silence you pay by the hour to spill
    it all in the sterility of shells whorled
    like ear trumpets listening in the white office
    bookshelves jammed with case studies
    just like you and how you peel back layers
    that keep you choosing to tell not do
    each choice some kind of affirmation
    another brick in the wall that totters
    a child’s block tower beneath
    your probing finger teasing an old wound

    Each time not so much a turning back
    As a tiptoeing past, past the quicksand
    one finger pressing against your lips
    lest you have that forbidden conversation
    over the white tablecloth and become
    that spot of gravy, the brown stain.

  19. THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE

    She is the light—
    of my life.

    There is a clear
    path before me.

    Her glorious countenance
    consumes darkness,
    my darkness.

    The kiss in the heat
    of her ethereal touch is…

    Mystically comforting.
    I bask in its effectual warmth.

    © Benjamin Thomas

  20. ITS BEST TO TRAVEL LIGHT

    In this hoary voyage of life,
    it is best to travel light.

    To be light on one’s feet,
    such as the jack rabbits creep.

    Lest you be weighed down completely,
    and become prey to some beast.

    © Benjamin Thomas

    • Thank you, Sarah. Her ending truly was peaceful, and was not supposed to be. We were told to expect seizures and vomiting and pain that may not be able to be controlled. There was none of that. We were told to expect 6-8 months of life remaining for her. She passed two months after diagnosis. She was quiet in her bed, and Hospice was outstanding. My father-in-law knew when she would pass. He called my husband and me to come spend the night with him that night, because he “knew” it would be her last, and he wanted support. Sure enough, he woke us up soon after we had drifted off, saying he felt like it was time, and we needed to encourage her. He was absolutely right. She passed so peacefully, Sarah. It was amazing. I have no doubt she was resting in the arms of Jesus as she left us.

  21. THE CRIME OF POIESIS

    It is a crime to interrupt one’s poiesis—
    a seemingly quiescent mind of chrysalis.

    A foul disturbance of transformation,
    from not being, to being in another state.

    Where a smooth contemplation of things
    undergoes changes and develops vibrant wings.

    Where the simple seeds of deep seated thought,
    see the light of day where a journey awaits.

    © Benjamin Thomas

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