This is the end time of a life
unfulfilled
a hurricane of possibilities
unexplored
storming through a life
untended
intended for Love    yet
somehow skipped
unrequited
except by Godlove
Kyrie eleison

Lord, Have Mercy


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

it’s like,
I ride songs into sweet
remembers
of my daddy
of my friends
of my sister, and my twin

I float in a star-strewn nebula,
a compostella, each star
a different scene and cast,
each a member of my asterism of
memories
each and all beloved
clear as the ringing of a bell
flooding my eyes with tears
of sorrow and joy and laughter

I ride music like
a flying carpet lifts on the magical,
gently carrying my heart
into the beauty and sorrow and laughter
of Love lost and
Love found


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

The trick is
to break the fall,

prepare soft landings

roll forward with
some standing joke,

calling-in the softball laughter

drawing on that coruscating
excellence of company

the fool congeniality
we coaxed in all conditions

We'll repeat this to ourselves
as we go about our
business....



Time will take the evidence,
possessions from the locker

but nothing is forgotten

as you're always
with The Boys..

Dawn will crackle with
madness, and a sad
soul sickness, that
breeds an all too
familiar
incomprehensible fear.

It's such hard
work to get that
click, to be okay;
to see the squirrels and
smell the leaves,
to lick the lice off the
sparrows and the grackle.

It was as simple as
turning off a light, or
crushing a bug.
He realized early
that reality had
a brutal side;
band aids didn't
stick to his heart
so he checked out;
he disassociated with
the scenery around him,
and created a kinder
world, with no
brutality or cruelty.

And then one day
he built a
sailboat made of
cardboard and silk,
and just sailed away.
There were no
shadows as he
smiled at the
putrid, bright sun.

Come to me
Through miles and mountains
And so much blue
We touch with our minds
Me and you

Don't have dreams, aspirations.
Dreams are just another banal experience,
only not yet realized.

Better yet, have dreams but leave them be.
Let them be dreams,
let them stay a golden land of idealism
to which you mentally flee when
caught in the midst of your current
mundanity.

Don't chase them,
don't turn your dreams
into your routines.

Place them upon a shelf
and marvel at them with
an enormous and writhing sense of
what if.

Enjoy that feeling,
revel in the wander-thought
for that is the truest form
in which dreams exist.