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1d · 56
Not Our Own
Let's walk down a path
Of economic prosperity
Turned to wealth
And forget the person

Definition of improving
What already exists
Translates to robot creation
From human biome matrix

We look over our shoulder
What wAs once us fades
As R and D facilities erase
Try to prove their worth

At what cut in our flesh
How deep into tissue
Or sawed bone are you
Willing to purchase

A world now
                 not our own?
How has progress in the capitalist experiment helped and hurt us? Who is watching the wealth spawned by innovation drown out the pawns. The average human. Who is watching the greed while we really are just an ingredient in someone's experiment? (Think tech industrial complex)

"Research and development (R&D) is the series of activities that companies undertake to innovate. R&D is often the first stage in the development process that results in market research product development, and product testing."
2d · 74
The Shoe
There was a shoe
Black and white tartan pattern
Woven ***** white laces
That walked
In aimless directions for its master

The rubber sole sturdy
No matter the terrain
Of homeless encampments
Rocky back alleys
Snow climbed inside the bare foot

"Can you bring me some socks"
When you called that winter afternoon, the sun fading
"My toes are so cold"
Our house but a mile away
And you almost die at my feet
3d · 126
Bake At 325
I rendered a recipe
Of leftovers in my mind
That happen to be
Complete garbage
Of dysfunction.
Where do I begin

It began in my heart
Where I pulled out,
Longing for safety,
Dripping clotless
Rags that made up my frame
My apron stained red.

In the middle was observed
A town of hate
Lacerating the bowels
Of everything and anything
Leaving a mighty stink, mistaking it for butter.

Towards the end a drifting
Spice of malcontent
Sprinkled from the pores
Of harmless thinkers
To crisp the tenderloins
of affection.

The oven is preheated
Everyone a dark hot mess
Needed no thawing
As the goop of alienation
Makes everyone a witness
and a vulture
     for a meal.

No matter how
un-schooled you are
Your neighbor shouting, the stranger drooling,
The cop beating, all have the same home-spun recipe and one main ingredient,
         Human, baked at 325.

Resulting in
a deus ex machina.
Going through explaining in my mind why people are the way we are.
5d · 184
Artifacts
I was sent
to a dark room
From your words.
Littered on the couch
Spilled into the air
Dark-like smells
smudging and
Textures touching
With antipathy for being futile.
       Irrelevant.
That artifact of darkness

I know the unlit
The heavy
      immovable monolith of despair.
Fence sitting for days
In Wait for a shape of
intentional light.
Incremental, as it
Fractured the silence.
That burrowed through
Despondent dirt
down Here.

I saw you flick past
a sliver of
Shiny coins
Alarmed by their details,
Lost in remnants
Of absurdity
As the cloudless score
rounded the sharp
        edges
That softened
        your eyes
       as you peeked outside.
This came to mind after reading 3 strong words of a poet on HP.
Prayers don't go anywhere
They are encapsulated
In our air down here
The story of suffering continues. Why aren't all the connections we had with our loved ones when they were on earth doing anything, just one miniscule thing, to ease someone's suffering.
6d · 247
Where You Stand
Where you stand now,
can be moved.
It's either you or
the ground.
Is it light you seek
or darkness?
If you remain immovable
Like that thing in the street,
Tripping, your face will meet
The ground, hard.

Lay ****** and bruised,
Defiant as the cement
That slapped your face.
It gets dark real fast
When all you hear is the mold
That lays you to rest.

Be alert and aware like
A library door.
Possibly your unnoticed
Life is awakened by
Words that wrap you with
History and comfort as if
Every minute is the opening
From a wrapper of your
Favourite candy. Live
In the trace of  light
Where you stand.
Listened to The New Yorker on YouTube. Public Defender” follows the work of Heather Shaner, a lawyer representing January 6th rioters, who works to confront America’s political divisions with empathy."
Dec 2024 · 125
Zealot Moon
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
Many moons ago
A full one
Milky stone in the sky
My ex called me a "zealot!"
As if the word ****** my life.
He was expectedly x'd out of my world.

On that night a stellar moon
Shown like warm honey as I  escaped towards Courage
A nighttime ember
My zealot moon forever
Full of worth, I'm yours.
Some moments in time never leave your side for better or worse. This was a good night.
Dec 2024 · 254
Media Blahs
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
Engrossed in
Electronic word game
Famed on phone

Ad delay my
Path to next level
Dropping my attention

Sudden rush of
Nothingness in
My blood

No screen time
Felt a bottomless
Bleak pit

I fell until
I measured my breath
Of existence leaving

All defined on
False electric bait
Clips of wins and loss

Almost threw up
In my felt emptiness
Messy messy power grab

Measure me alive
Today and Now
Not then or ever
Playing a number matching game on my phone. Engrossed daily in getting to higher levels. How far can I get? The further I get to the higher number the less I am attached to my self. Losing all definition. Realizing the power of myself I give away to a meaningless device.
Dec 2024 · 227
Losing My Parts
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
My tongue left me lost
Telling stories of jungle and mirth
Vines around my voice
Sounds that were not mine
Leaked out

My mind escaped all my plans
Evading the minstrel of imagination
Symbolically dampening my conceptions
Reluctant troupe performance
A coy castaway

My legs marched without me
Trampled every blade of grass
Concluding I have no where left to run
No path at all
Upright disorderly conduct
On two feet

My heart forbade another beat
Leaving a bowl of dust to swirl
Aimless joys and sorrows
Suddenly freeze dried
coagulant
Without conduction for lust
Or anger
Thumpless

My life dropping out of sight
Evading the drones
Searching for me
Here I lay in this late hour
Evaporating like the rain puddle
With no where to go
On the hottest day of the year
Dissipating until
I vanish
Growing old challenges. Nothing is what it was before. Seems like a dream. If only I had paid more attention to the moments.
Dec 2024 · 326
Reprieve Deadenders
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
I am amazed more
and more
how much the mind can be stuck
in slavery
to thoughts.

I am less afraid of people
who commit suicide.
Suffering is so intense.
It makes me think of how
low our minds can take us
down to where
we feel we
might drown.  

No one, not one person
is to blame for
suicide.
There should be no anger,
no shame.
Be real in life.
Do not shelter shame
as if it is a friend,
a payback,
or a way of life.

Shame is as deep as
******
is the devil.
Deep in an inkwell
Black tar stuck in
the pits searching
for free skies
for air
the soul is not for sell.

And it can come to this.....

Dead Enders

Places we have been to
Places we compare to
Travel light-years
In circles around us
Overtime
Around and around we go
Spiraling through the
self-disparaging
Thoughts we hack ourselves into.

Until,  Sense-less
Dead enders.
So, unthread,
Un  thread,
Un      thread.
Unwind
Before your prospects
Leave this space.

Around and around
we go
Transcenders
Looking out, looking up
and
Down
Sinking
Please me here
Take from there
Give to him always
Without a dare
Sunk and done
Dead end right here.
Writings after my sons suffering from addiction.
Dec 2024 · 77
Mixed Up By You
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
"Right under the skin it lingers
Sitting alone in a field laced with nevers
The stockings were hung but they fell off the wall
The tearful shedder from whom you depart
God,why is the stairway so high

Hate locks the door to the heart
Within that gloomy volume
true wisdom would not
give desperation
a chance to grow
And passions are cooled to absolute zero
And chimpanzee bookies
Lay odds on your death
Over/Under 2 weeks

I knew there was a turn
but it never turned up
Remnants find their way to the floor
A soak in the rain
Casting light through
all my shadows
Our perfect shaped stone in the dark of night
Leaving your soup of hope in Everything you touched
A day for lions will come

Squirrels came out of nowhere
My face gets
sticky
To the point you come out richer than you were before
The cold kept me in today
Captivated by captivity
I only let her skim the surface
But I see too much, scratching out your eyes
I write to be free, flows right out of me
She let love lead, soft, slow and brave
And the spark off a sparrows wing
All of them
In their wonder
Are on my side"
These are lines from poetry on Hello Poetry from a variety of poets. Randomly put them together. Mixing up the norm though there is none. The poets are below. A line stands on its own hitching a ride. Hope you have fun reading.

J Betts, Cloudy daze, Lizzie Bevis, S-Zaynab-kamoonpury, Carlo C Gomez, Thomas Case, Glenn Currier, old poet MK , G Alan Johnson, Pradip Chattopadhyay, BLT, Otuogbodor Okeibunor, Weeping willow, Maddy, Lawrence Hall, Rob Rutledge, Belinda S Richmond, Silent Echo, Jimmy Silker, Liana.
Dec 2024 · 202
Outline Your Wound
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
Once, you leave again
Are my wounds bigger than me
An outline contains
Poet Laureate from Colorado, Andrea Gibson, writes, I've been dancing in the end zone
Since you taught me to start breaking
Every promise I have made to my pain, taught me my wounds
Will never be bigger than I am.
Thank goodness for you
(From book, You Better Be Lightning)

My wounds still feel bigger than my self many times. If I outline them, perhaps I can contain them.
Dec 2024 · 333
Holiday Blues
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
That voice
Inside your head
The untrue you
Past and future dread

Remnants wanting to shape
Events that are not facts
Wanting to control
Anything else

The low burning blues
Up from the underground
Seen when life around
Is shining

Fly above, look out
Beyond your self
Take a peek
Glide right back in

Into your spirit
Into your hope
Turn fear into angels wings
The universe needs you
To stop trying to fix it
'The holiday season shines a spotlight on everything that is difficult about living with depression ... the pressure to be joyful and social is tenfold. " NAMI
Dec 2024 · 154
An Hour of Fire
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
An hour of fire
Catches sight and soul for hire
Pain recedes in light
Musing on purchasing a portable wood fire pit to ease my anxiety.
Dec 2024 · 164
How Does Life Live
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
Between leaf and life
Wet ochre leaves bundled exit
Life was lived now gone
Walking in early morning winter of rain and autumn leaves scattered in patches in the ground. Thinking how beautiful but gone. Then, there they once were four months ago high up in the tree, green and offering shade.
Nov 2024 · 278
Captain In the Sky
Heidi Franke Nov 2024
Are you of perfect
Circumference for
A captain in the sky
Voyaging vagabond at night 'til morn'

Walking under the
End of season elms and sycamores
The branches as oars in water
Tilling below shadows come, shadows go, as you stay steady
For I was the water in a rippling stream and you were a solitary sturdy force above
Emulating my gait and gaze

Light hanging with every branch
Into my water
As you lay your supermoon
Beam into our futures
Until you come  again
Leaving your soup of hope in Everything you touched
Even souls

Where will the future be at your return
With hate or love,
Or something in between as a sturdy captain should, be there once more for all the visitors below
Beseeching you for navigation
From on high to below
Altruistic by sight, your perfect shaped stone in the dark of night
Walking my dog at 4 AM under the supermoon Nov 2024 in North America. I envision a world without hate and corrupt vengeful misogynistic leaders. Spread loving kindness and make altruism your guide.
Sep 2024 · 774
Hello Poetry
Heidi Franke Sep 2024
Disagree with me
Ever which way on a tree
Branch follows no one
Someone expressed concern about Hello Poetry and what constitutes a "poem" .
Sep 2024 · 351
The Arrow
Heidi Franke Sep 2024
Dropping the arrow
Flung to the centering heart
Blood remains untouched
So not harm with a second arrow.
Sep 2024 · 400
Shadows In Milk
Heidi Franke Sep 2024
The autumn moon was receeding
At 5 AM this morning
Riding the wave of seasons
Wind stirring in a constant dance with the leaves

My cold mug of milk set upon the wire table outside
Under the Serviceberry
So I can pet the dog.

Kinetic shadows on the table
Wisped and whipped over the mug
Laying upon the white liquid
Thicker than the reflected light and dark. Boundaries that can't be bought.

Did the shadows, could the shadows, penetrate the surface of the milk?
Going deeper in where I can not see
To a place furrowed low
Perceived, yet not seen.

Is it a place with a soul
Creamy and still
Unmatched like time, marching or halting, that
which we can not ever hold?
Shadows on milk do not sink.
Sep 2024 · 335
Corners
Heidi Franke Sep 2024
Corners of the heart
Where sorrow lays in blood
Loving kindness seeks
After listening to podcast on Buddhism and how to offer self compassion to oneself. Not so easy when sorrows hide or are tethered.
Jun 2024 · 942
Time
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
Time bequeaths a tune
Folding like fading petals
Butterfly breezed by
Noting yellow roses faded petals leaving life and a butterfly breezed by for a bite
Jun 2024 · 387
One Line
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
Today I need you
One line of words mistaken
Remember I live
Not wanting to be forgotten.
Jun 2024 · 701
O. K. Line
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
Where is your Ok line?
Lay upon the asphalt of your tender life?

Does this line fall straight or
Wander like a rivers ebb?

Does your OK line look away from Native children of America forced to give up their language with a safety pin in their tongue?

Or does your voice remain silent, letting white paint on black dictate another's worth but your very own, into the hands of righteous power.

Does your OK line follow blindly with conformity from false prophets who seek to control your mind making it easy for you to turn away from suffering?

My OK line seeks for equality, self-determination, and soothing suffering
With my voice and pictures that will never be silenced in a democracy but will be sold to the highest bidder in a dictatorship.

How silence kills and you suffer less believing you are somehow more disserving. You are as equal as the stone stuck in the sole of your shoe.

Remember the discomfort is equal for all. That's the OK line. We are equal; stone, thorn, blade and heart. Bleed, but bleed less in company of a powerless generation who votes the OK line towards freedom of choice. None will be free from our last breath.
Parking lot recently paved with black asphalt, with added yellow parking stripes. What caught my eye was the lone thing straight line drawn all the way to the end to mark where the yellow line should end. That small line said, "OK Line" with squiggled line below to add emphasis to the cimment. Took a black end white photo. It remains stuck in my mind until today
Jun 2024 · 1.1k
Shocked by Color
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
What is between schocking red, earthly pink, and plummed purple?

Life. Grass. A trembling leaf. Force of green.
My three year old  Serviceberry tree planted in memory has this year bore the berries. The colors shock.
Jun 2024 · 1.5k
Giving Back
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
He died without warning.
Lives fractured
From failing
Air bags,
Ten in all that
Deployed, did not protect.

It happened
Pleading to un do.
On a sidewalk in a fetal position, pleading.

Nothing, no money
Millions or more
Will ever bring him back, but hate takes up residence in your soul, burn until you can't move from the scar tissue.

He would not want hate. He would not want you in this state.

I see it so in every
Red fruit garnished
On the Serviceberry
This year
Three years after your death. I hear his echos, it will be ok.

It's all I have to give
Watered by tears.
Planted a Serviceberry tree after the accidental death of a physician. A tragedy that can not be changed but maybe transformed to allow a manageable life free from the burden of suffering. So many things we suffer over. Let go what you can't control.
Jun 2024 · 941
Rock Tour
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
Going on a rock tour
I'll leave you with the beats
in the ground.

Still, I will play for the crowd
Like I know what I am doing.

On return
Will I be home
Or was no one listening?

Cowering in corners
On lead guitar
And solo drums
Jun 2024 · 1.0k
A Favor
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
The moon did me a favor today

It didn't drag me down.

It made me look up.

Where else is future found?

Besides our
Hearts and Minds.

In the sky where you will find Birds.

And wings
With golden strings

Threading

An imperfect map.

I'm still looking up.
Jun 2024 · 437
Whatever I Didn't Give
Heidi Franke Jun 2024
Whatever I didn't give you

that you needed
that
. .   I
am sorrowful for.

I thought I was limitless
    in my charity and resources.

It is obvious
not
to be so.

It was all I had.
Feeling helpless and lost
May 2024 · 307
If Ever
Heidi Franke May 2024
If ever I grow small
Consider me still useful
Uncrippled color
Small
May 2024 · 798
Lilac Yet Made Whole
Heidi Franke May 2024
There is a fragrance
Remembered in its bloom time
Lilac yet made whole
My lilacs are ready little buds, yet to be blooming when the sun comes around. Sweet sweet fragrance.
Apr 2024 · 1.3k
The Forest Inside
Heidi Franke Apr 2024
Out of the darkness
I claw and rise to see
There is a forest inside.
The green surrounds me.
The sun's rays splatter
Me awake to my open body.
I let in the light
I lean into the forest
With the trees holding me up
- as I tilt to fall
Reinforcing my stand I forgot
- I was a part of.

The green has grown so strong
Like the blood that sweeps away
Inside of me to a rivers tune.
I don't want to leave this place,
Fearing it will be taken beyond
Or that it was never mine.
Reinventing this woodland
That has always been inside.
The pine, the wind through the branches, the owl winks.
It has always been here with me
Compelled to germinate
Waiting for my return.
I lift up my head and the sky
- Is so blue.
Recovery from PTSD
Apr 2024 · 970
False Statues Will Crumble
Heidi Franke Apr 2024
A mountain from a range,
Of such everlasting granite.
Carved over ages,
Shook from under footing
Like statues who will
Not wilt or crumble
Only to manifest
Into the space around it
Reminding me that as weak
As I feel, Inside of me is a similar
Persistence that won't be moved
By the capricious whim of man and imbecilic masses who follow.
I will seize your sharp shank and excavators trying to make me into something I am not.
I am a woman with equal rights
And dignity far beyond your pompous attempts to roil this robust range down. Your false statues will crumble when the mirror knocks at your midnight door. Here, look at yourself.
Abortion is healthcare. Women's rights are human rights. Keep abortion legal.
Mar 2024 · 1.1k
The Grief Train
Heidi Franke Mar 2024
This wasn't the train. It scooped you up to a different destination. Birds of splendor followed along
Out the window
Winding in your path of grief. Be ready for the station waiting
To greet your sorrow.

The platform is not clear. The mist hides the light then becomes a flow of water you can reach and touch. Become aware of the grief but don't move towards it. See it instead in the palm of your hand. Dip into the water cupped in your hands to cleanse your sorrow.

You will have times of freedom. Embrace all feelings. Let them fall into the stream of water. You will lighten. You will see more color as the mist dissappears.

You will see the light between the leaves of the trees. The sounds of song birds lifting you up with messages for you alone.
Mar 2024 · 975
Pulp
Heidi Franke Mar 2024
I felt it
When I spoke
To the judge,
For my son,
Years of shell work
Encasing fear and sanity, cracked with each glance, falling away. Everyone listening.
I was left lost
Like a snail losing it's shell
Mushy and vulnerable
A Pulpy mess.

Was it enough
That I said
Or too much.
So much was left out
The Russian Roulette admission
The thoughts of jumping 15 floors from his hotel
So many letters making up words and paragraphs upon paragraphs
of 15 years.
Throwing out a gun
Into the city trash.

How could I be anything more than a mother
Who let the saving flatten her out of existence. Incoherence and pulp.
Will it be discarded
All that effort
To keep him alive
At my expense.
Is that what mothers do?
I'll never get to return. Life doesn't
Let you.
Speaking to judge on behalf of mentally ill son's crimes.
Feb 2024 · 1.2k
Sentencing
Heidi Franke Feb 2024
Today my son
Is to be sentenced
To prison. He
Lives 23 hours a day
In a jail cell, he will move on
Steeling courage few of us
Ever have to experience.
Consider your luck.
His mental illness
never to be a crime.
Will there be light for a prism?
Where he can turn to
Other pathways
Less dark and Forge
Himself into the open
Blue sky and all the rainbows
From here on out.
On the outside we are blind
On the inside some
Are given true sight.
I cry for a rotten system
In mental health care
We own. You might
Want to pull up some buckets
For all mothers tears
Knowing the best we have
Is incarceration. How is that
America? Tired of blaming anyone but yourself?
A son is to be sentenced this Monday morning. Prison transfer on Wednesday.
Feb 2024 · 911
The Twenty Fourth Hour
Heidi Franke Feb 2024
He was in his cell
Twenty three hours a day
Never was he an animal
Yet treated as such

The echoes off the walls, bounce
The metal doors that clang, bang
Endless boredom after
All the books are read
He paces his eight feet

Gray dulls the senses
Lack of color, lack of life
He saw a bug inside
The other day, alive
Looking up at him
Another form of life, different,almost brand new
His voice filled with hope through the Pauses

It rained and the summer was hot
They were released for the hour
Choices that are made in that precious time
He went outside where there is only the cement
Laid on his back, spread his arms like an eagle, like an offering
Letting the rain Fall onto him,
just so He could feel Something
Sharing the experiences between a mother and son. The son is incacerated. Too many non violent people are imprisoned for far too long.
Dec 2023 · 1.2k
Without Warning
Heidi Franke Dec 2023
After he died
Without warning,
I planted a tree
Announcing
Just as suddenly
The Serviceberry
To the others
In the garden
Each bud of a branch
  welcomed by the fresh earth
And dormant bulbs yet to burst
The Aspen as role model
Hastily, deeply
she was added
As quickly as he left
In pursuit of
Recouping buoyancy after starving for oxygen.
Consoling under her generous shade
Begging for silence of sufferings and
deep sorrows

Three years have passed
Has it been that long
There they are,
our memories,
in the control room
That cling, stab like a blade
Taking over the clock
A contagion of disorder
That eats away
like acid
Explicitly unwanted  
Clarity of that night
Frozen in time,
like the winter
  it happened.
Time ended without warning
Deaths metronome gave birth.

Uneven disbursement
Over one thousand days
Since
Asking why,
Why?
Why!
Prone and exhausted.
Drowned in tears that forged
A lake of salt
Why then
Do we not float?
What's holding us up?
And another thing,
Where does the wind
Go when its gone?
It dispatches
   without warning
Whirling in circles,
Catching conditions
Why am I
not so
shaken then?


The Serviceberry has yet
To bare fruit in its
Short life to fifty
Holding steady,
Enduring the rooting road
In the pragmatic ground
Surrounded by leaves from seasons
As messengers of compassion, companionship
At the foot of her trunk
An offering
Once again in winter, here we are
Sleeping until the sun
Bleeds more time
Why does three years
Feel so heavy and capricious
As if it were just yesterday


Will the depth of sorrow remain
After she blooms and feeds
The hungry birds,
Over 35 species,
Who love her nectar
Caring for the offspring
Obscure, neglected and hungry
Giving back, keeping the healed
From further storms of
Sudden causes
As he did for his flock
Harbored in what the doctor
Ordered.
Tender
Loving
Care

Will heartache be replaced
By forgiveness?
Like the passing bus
That descends the hill
Into a valley of green hearts
Picking up new passengers
Loving another
Forgetting the importance
Of yesterdays bus ticket that
Flew out the window
Arriving without intention
To its destination
Neutralizing the anger
That came without warning
Glancing out the window
Towards tomorrow
As the birds songs
Are sung
The unintentional death and road of recovery.
Heidi Franke Dec 2023
There are no limitations. You
Receive help that
You never accepted.
It now encircles you.
By an outstretched hand.
No one bites it off.
Acceptance received.

The sun directly investigates
Any unwillingness
To not accept change. Bringing a pinch of new light.

Who would you have to be
Stepping into the
Other side?
Finding you are truly good enough.
That any other connection
From limiting beliefs
Unravels, like opening a pomegranate. One seed thinks it's all alone,
not seeing all the others encased in their own restrictions.
What if it were the perfect time? The full ripe fruit.

You are the right age! This is the perfect time!

What if the opposite were true?
What would you do? Even if a part of you did not believe it?

Bathe hence your confining insistences.
What is in your skyline? Your oceans horizon?
Supplied with new resources, a deliberate inventory, of unrestricted beliefs, if the opposite were true?
Then who would you have to be
To make it unmistakable?
Who would I want to be
If the opposite were true? Now, only now, as a matter of time.
Reflections on a learned patterned of thinking, leading to a false self identity.
Dec 2023 · 3.1k
Rain Synapse
Heidi Franke Dec 2023
Riding the air
In dark morning
A steady current of rain
Descends
Upon everything
The fir tree
The house roof
My dogs fur
The empty Ash tree
The fallen leaves
Brown, red, yellow, orange
The bird feeder catches the water As does the bird bath
The puddles
The street
The cement
My head

My ears hear each
Multitude of patterned drops
In apparent chaos
Reminds me of the
The synapses in my brain
Circuitry, each drop a connection from
Dendrite to dentride
Messages of the unknown
Of falling to earth
Of vulnerable life
Unprotected.

The unhoused, in the cool soaked air of December. Will you remain blessed?
Will you spread your joy in the patter of rain to those who bare the rain in their skin, on their dampened clothes? Adding a chill.
Will today you find some without a home
Bringing tarps, blankets, source of heat, to those who listen
To the same rain
While they shiver
And you stay in your glow with your tidy wood burning fireplace. Stay comfortable? Risk giving for giving sake. What floods of love can you share in December rather than giving to
Your precious family, the left overs, the excesses
And give to charity that make each day another day for breath in rain from the heavens. I choose the rain. I could be the one in
The open now, soaking as I pen these words.

Hoping words of love, neutrality, non-judgement and altruism be the "church" we reside in. Drop by drop.
Over a hundred different sounds of rain brought to earth by gravity, in my receiving ears, and the tiny sparkles of light reflected upon the  light from the street lamp shining upon concrete saturated by this extended morning rain.
Sunday. Sitting under my porch with coffee in hand, dog at my side. Dry from this music of rain. Thinking of the homeless. Now mustering the strength and courage to buy Starbucks growlers full of coffee for about thirty and driving around town once again finding cold people shivering. Time to order that coffee and give warm to some as best I can in my limited way. Looking for costs of pull over rain coats. My gifts to my children this year is to give what I would give them to others less fortunate. Be neutral in your thinking. Be rid of judgements of self and others. More love, less hate.
Nov 2023 · 1.4k
Feeling Needed
Heidi Franke Nov 2023
It started when people stopped bathing
Or showering.

Every day before they went to work or after their 5 mile run.  People just stopped stepping into their tubs
Or showers
To turn the faucet handles that activated
Cold and hot water to fall from the plumbing.

They gradually
Lost interest in hygiene. Personal cleanliness was ghosted.

Everything else mattered to them,  until it didn't.  Getting their kids to school on time mattered, finishing the work project by deadline mattered, visiting relatives in Montana mattered, driving to the store for groceries mattered, until it didn't. Simply ceasing soap and water on flesh.

They just stopped bathing. It's not that they were afraid of water. If near the ocean they would still run and swim in the waves,
Or jump into the pool at the Hilton. No they weren't afraid of water.
It was something else
So slow
And insidious that it was hardly noticed at first.

The domesticated animals picked up on the phenomena first.
They became anxious. They scurried, tried vocalizing. They sensed a lack of intention from their care givers. They sensed a lack of worthiness inside of their humans. The animals began to wonder about their own well being.
What was their future?

Once you start with a variation from normal,  from routine,  from tradition,  the pendulum swings.
The people didn't realize what was happening. Then it slowly dawned on them over time.
They didn't feel needed.
But kept it a secret. The secret necrosed from the inside
Out. They forgot that connecting to one another
Was vital to survival. Their silence could be deadly.
An idea came to mind how in depression one stops caring about certain things. What if everyone did?
Nov 2023 · 1.8k
Forecasting Change
Heidi Franke Nov 2023
The forecast on the radio
I didn't need.
I felt it coming
In and through the threads of my light sweater
Tickling my skin so my arms embraced
One another.

The barometer falling
As are the remaining Ash leaves
Of yellow, like canaries rushing about
Certainly saying goodbye
To the past
As they must
When the wind picks up.

Hurling chilly
whips of wind
down
The East canyon
Announcing its arrival
I think of my warmest coat
And how long I'll have to wear it
As I sit on the porch in my shivering
Bare feet listening for what is to come
The seasons change
How will I?
Contemplating arrival of winter storm, the loss of one season to another. Will I make changes?
Oct 2023 · 1.8k
They Say
Heidi Franke Oct 2023
To heal,
Journal they say
Like a worm in the dirt
Of my front lawn
Sliding, pushing through
Air pockets
Arduous, unending crawl
No words come
To mind
Where can I breathe

To heal,
Journal they say
Words don't come easy
They fly up like
Torn pages of a book
Riffed, stolen letters of some name
In the nameless wind
Grasping what isn't there,
A cynical continuing void

To heal,
Journal they say
My hands become deaf and blind
The pages curl and mold
Pen and paper inventing before I have begun
All I have is the deep
The deepest inside
That comes here
Traversing incredulity, while I
cry

To heal, they say
Oct 2023 · 983
Yesterday
Heidi Franke Oct 2023
Not drowning today

In remorse from yesterday

Draining self-hatred
Oct 2023 · 1.7k
Silent Stars
Heidi Franke Oct 2023
Silent stars reside
In the blue milieu
Continuing their stellar constancy by day.
They are there like my love,
silent, unpretentious, patient and kind. Trace your finger along the sky, like a constellation connecting the dots of your name to a safe, congenial and forgiving place to call home.

Maybe your name will meet with mine in the night when the stars return, walking across the expanse of loving kindness that is within your reach. See you tonight dearest one. Just look up.
Sep 2023 · 1.1k
Stargazing with The Tao
Heidi Franke Sep 2023
I woke early
Enough to meet the stars
Like diamonds in a mine
Or apples on a tree that never fall
They weren't there for me or you
They just are.
A man coughed
Walking up the sidewalk
In the dawn
As he passed by my house, startled me
While stargazing.
I am reminded
There is now,
then and there
I am reminded to let things flow
To Let things go
As the wave does
When encountering the ocean, disappearing into it.
What today is your humility looking to?
Sep 2023 · 1.6k
One More Before I Go
Heidi Franke Sep 2023
One more before I go.
Into the wilderness of parts and dreams. A happy send off in the cool morning.

I will be back in a new form perhaps, a more rounded crown of a tree, after years of pruning.
A "wild and precious life" with untold horrors, spoken dreams, and wandering caravans of thought.

In yellow abodes loving kindness which is yours. Maybe it will seep in like a root gives to it's leaves. Traveling through twisted currents. It's fragile rose petals. Short lived. But remembered.
It's almost mid September and the Julia Child rose bush pushes out it's last rose for this year. A year of waiting, trauma, wandering untethered.
Sep 2023 · 3.2k
Globe of Light
Heidi Franke Sep 2023
The sunshine melts in from the dark.
The summer sunflowers start their  morning yellow glow.
From the dark of nights despair and suffering.
The light of questioning wakes up,
I begin to ask why the pain?

Did I, or do I have the capacity to be optimistic of my will? Over matters of the past?

Shame, denial, self- soothing, trying to escape emotional pain through all varieties of addictive responses to life.

Understanding this new target for my heart, mind, and body gives me optimism of the will while
knowing
there will always be suffering.

I ask myself, what is my capacity? As the light rises in the morning I feel more air to breathe in.
Aware of the air inside of me whether in dark or light, carries some vessel of hope
to help ward off the strength of suffering.

I am not the wave. I am the ocean. The womb. Conceptualize
the possibilities in this morning dry landscape,
before abandonment. Conceptualize having what you need. Ease and compassion enters. Possibilities move through with ease and healing is within reach.

The capacity to heal needs warmth like the morning globe of light.
Reflecting on addiction with conversation between Deepak Chopra and Gabore Mate
Apr 2023 · 1.1k
Held
Heidi Franke Apr 2023
Held like this
A cupped hand of water
held still
that not a drop
enters gravity's pull.

Held like this
The hens egg.
Rounded palms together
without allowance of pressure
that would crush the shell.
Frail possessions.

These are days she remembers beyond all vicissitudes she faced.
Not jagged. Not stewing or careless.

This untainted moment
of protection
for something that will give back.

A drop of water
becomes a cup that was
dry as a bone.
The egg becomes
a breakfast feast
weary of starvation.

Hold life like this. Prudent,
tender and earnest.
These times she keeps
for consideration.
Apr 2023 · 2.3k
The Shower
Heidi Franke Apr 2023
He called in for a shower after being alone on the streets for a week.

Is that time enough
to get ***** for a shower
   as a man nearly twenty-six
in years.
She could turn him away
like her father’s sister
might have and did.
From time to time.

It all depended on how many times in a week,
month, or year
he would show up without a call.
Without knowing he still existed.

Somehow, his presence and
absence
were a mixed blessing.
His presence was like a merry-go-round
that goes against the earth’s pull.
Like a brazen thorn
stuck into your shoe.
Unpredictable.
Vacuum-like.
******* all the ***** things in.
Taking everything in its sight
and power and making
everything contort
to his reality.
Where he and only he resided.
Would she open the door for him?

What she does know
is that she might risk speaking
in a bright happy voice
of a mother
so gladsome to see her son.
Welcoming him in.
Rather than turning him away
because of his inconvenience.
Grief is inconvenient.
That is one thing she knows.
Notes on helping a mentally ill adult child. Copyright 2023 @ Highwireart
Apr 2023 · 126
The Leftovers
Heidi Franke Apr 2023
The Leftovers  or   (The Ones Who Survive)

Recipe: ****** *** Pie
The dope, the spoon,
In gutter water
Why did he die, not she

When does it end
Those who survive
Left out to cool
With no friend

Fiends and friends of addicts
Mystify us,  who do not understand
What makes them keep shooting
Into veins of foreign land

They join by ignorance or associate
A friendship they say more strong
Then that of a parent or a childs love
This couldn't be more wrong

The twine of codependency
Makes fools of us all
When one of them dies
Pleading for answers while wishing the other would fall

These are the Leftovers, the suffering addict
With their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends
Who may have saved and tried before
Their pain and shame more severe if you pretend
You are not an ingredient
No less a fiend if sober
If you don't show up
To soothe the pain of being a leftover

Recipe: ****** *** Pie
The dope, the spoon,
In gutter water
Replaced by methadone

When does it end
Those who survive
Left out to cool
With no friend
****** Addiction Fiend Friend Survive Leftovers Dope Family Gutter Methadone Spoon Vein
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