Bob is seventy four
And fighting cancer
Every day.

He's had us plant seeds
For four o'clocks
Twice now.

He told me confidentially
That he knows the flowers
Weren't here
In Boone's time

But his mother always
Had them

And maybe they are his legacy.

I found one
Of his wandering
Flowers in the garden bed
Yesterday.

And four more
In between
My sage and horseradish
Today

I dug them up
And carried them
Home.

I don't think
We could forget
Bob
Anytime soon.

You stole the light from my soul, when you left
But I had no way to prevent, or report your theft
You left me behind all alone, groping in the dark
Searching the ashes blindly, for some sort of spark

I fell into a deep, never ending abyss
Don’t know how long, I existed like this
Until that scar, on my heart fell off
It’s only then I knew, I could once more love

Now I endlessly search, for a cinder or glowing ember
To relight my soul, like those days I remember
But with every spark that I’ve chosen, to my light renew
It only fades and dies, with each memory, of you
BOEMS BY JA 482

A  beautiful  laburnum  tree
as  just  come  into  flower
outside  my  window.
Drooping  clusters  of
yellow  flowers.
Hanging  down  like  jewels
on  a  chain.
Truly  beautiful.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

The last time I had a vision of him
He had gone to live in indiana
And the movie that played out
In my head
Referred to a spiritual crisis
That I couldn't have known
He was experiencing.

Today's movie
Was more disturbing
And I don't know
What I can do
To help him

He said that
I hadn't posted anything new
For twenty two days
And noticed
That maybe I better dip
My toes back in the pond
Of creativity

Maybe he should have
Specified
Something regarding quality
Of said creativity

:)

When I was young
My mother used to offer to end her life
And take me with her

But I have noticed
That I walk away from tragedy
Without a scratch

Last week I found myself praying . . .
God, you take this pain
Or end me

And there was no answer

But the next day
When the storm rolled in
And my coworkers scurried away
And I prepared to meet the fate I prayed for
My car key flew off the key ring
And under my car
On my knees
Searching for the only thing that could get me going again
I realized the irony of my situation

Ten-4 dear Creator
I hear you
Loud and clear

It was more like alabaster, but I could only be sure
of one thing; it was an exquisite lesson in anatomy
cold ancient, pale Roman stone, the arm half gone
strongly curved, the rippling of muscle, hair and bones
a man held by pillar, marble like legs of smoothest stone
his eyes deep set that wended near, then waywardly away
the kind that strangely follow sometimes linger into the next day
broad faced, cheekbones perfectly amid the shadows
and I don't mind saying while on my museum trip
though he was a statue, I thought to kiss
those divinely sculpted lips.

Dark is the night, by the light of day

Harsh are the words, which some people say

Grievous the malaise, which we often feel

Deep are the wounds, of a hurt that won’t heal

Lasting the wrong, to whom it is done

Fleeting the moment, when praises are won

Tragic the loss, of someone we love

Empty the feeling, when they are thought of
WIZDUMBs BY JA 619