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Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
What happened to the little boy
that I once knew so well?
He’d greet each new day with unfettered joy
and wave the last one farewell.

When oaks and maples began to turn
and the leaves had started to fall
the boy happily switched the TV on and yearned
for the return of his game of football.

Somewhere along this growing boy’s way
he became a great deal like me:
I wake and walk to the mirror today
to see where that boy used to be.

Now I cling to every last leaf
that falls from the branches up high
while stretching the days that are now too brief
as the winter comes rapidly nigh.
Em MacKenzie Nov 2024
I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I already pulled at my hair.
“It’s normal” he says
I swear just to debate,
cause he doesn’t seem to care.

And I’m bleeding through
my scar tissued skin,
the layers only grew
still I find a way in.

I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I’ll be down to the last strand.
Check or fold the plays,
the cards aren’t that great
I’ll be down the my last hand.

And I’m bleeding through
my thick nice sweater.
It’s a shame as it’s new
and we’re reaching the cold weather.
It will stain the soft fabric
I may just grab the bleach,
but I always made it a habit
to always keep it just out of reach.

I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate
pretty soon I’ll be bald.
On hot coals she stays,
though she shifts her weight
and watches her soles scald.

And I’m bleeding through
my clogged and blocked pores,
and the remaining few
are becoming septic sores.
I’ll shed another layer
of a non-protective bubble,
and my hair will continue to get greyer,
I think I’m now in some trouble.
Starting to feel my age…
Lizzie Bevis Nov 2024
First breaths taken, gentle cries,  
under watchful parents’ eyes.  
The first sweet taste of mother's milk  
she cradles skin as soft as silk.  
Tiny fingers reach and curl,  
as a new life greets this changing world.

Unsteady steps lead to tumbles down,  
tear-stained cheeks and a fading frown;  
Bruised knees bleeding on the ground,  
their brave face crumpling at the sound.  
Kiss the hurt and dry those tears,  
hug away the pain and fears.

Playground skirmishes leave a trace,
young hearts grapple with their place,  
as games and friendships shape their days,  
exploring life in myriad ways.  
Reading tales and counting stars,  
as time slips swiftly through youthful hours.

Changes come in the undertow,  
As pre-teen tempests start to blow.  
Mirrors now become their cage,  
with self-doubt writing every page.  
Finding paths through storms within,  
as adolescent shifts begin.

Teenage years bring deeper thought
and independence fiercely sought.  
Screaming words they don’t quite mean,  
piercing hearts of parent and teen.  
Growing pains lead to hearts that yearn,  
and life's harsh lessons left to learn.

To guide them through each perilous phase,  
and love them through their changing days.  
Watch them sleep like years before,  
until their world stops outside your door.  
Time slips too quickly through growing hands,  
leaving a void that no one understands.

©️Lizzie Bevis
I'm reflecting on my own personal experience as a mother watching my children grow.
The time passes so quickly and before you know it, they are leaving home.
Time really is so precious.
Perla Nov 2024
September again, a lazy river pathway to October. Not much different from August here minus the dwindling daylight hours. I try to drink from the river by dipping my cup. Submerging it time and time again—restless.

Little leaves on the surface and a million dabs of light dance there too. I quickly bring the cup up to my mouth in an attempt to drink from it—closing my eyes in the process. In anticipation. Only to find it empty once again.

I dip, submerge, I feel the water flow around my hands (I know it’s real, I know it’s real) repeating my last steps right down to the emptiness. The lazy river keeps moving and I stay kneeling at its banks in the setting sun—one with the river but never fully submerged and never allowed to drink from it.
The old lady caught up to me
fell asleep forgotten and woke up free
in the magpie madness
cobblestone cradle race

god called me today
with a mouthful of autumn leaves
spider fingers nesting at my navel
I hear her heartstrings
plucking out a buried song
in the last longing lookback
of seasonal surrender
Francie Lynch Oct 2024
A milestone of life
Was marked last week:
     I wasn't hit
     I aged one week
So, nothing really,
So to speak.
But
In my right ear
Came a humming,
Caused by nothing
     (and this sounds funny)
Yet, the sound is something
Ringing in my ear.
     (but really, more like a humming)
I find solace,
When alone and thinking,
The sound I hear,
Louder than blinking
     (which isn't funny)
Assures me that
My motor's running.
Still Here Oct 2024
It’s hard to know exactly when
memories that had meant so much,
shuffled and shifted in their files,
loosing their firm order and rank.

Dog-eared photos fading amber,
growing unrecognizable,
little be little, mockingly,
labels falling off and mixing.

Dusty and folded, coffee-stained,
they’re all still there, in the shoebox,
ill-maintained and so thread-bare worn,
but they are mine, and I want them.

Dry certainty drip-drains away,
siphoning tears of rueful doubt,
fearful, shameful, irrelevant,
I’ll lie and name it apathy.

                                -Still Here
Erwinism Oct 2024
Cedar wood house
aching with arthritis
still standing atop a hill,
at me, she blew a kiss,
dreaming I could feel,
and as made my way
down the horizon
where the flowering
dogwood-covered
peaks rose
to this valley,
where whiskey flows,
old mountain ranges
have always been
November’s ghost.

I’m on this road
thinking it will lead me home,
but all along,
I was wrong,
my home lives with me
in my bones.
Faces I knew by heart,
in time faded until forever gone,
I’m left here singing their song
with their names etched
on winter stones.

This road has grown weary
leading me to golden places
that weren’t even there;
all the while it was I
chasing castles in the air,
and I was foolish enough
to care about running after
a mirage anywhere,
all along,
by my side, the happiness
that I dared myself to find,
has always been with her.
neth jones Oct 2024
old lady passed out                
wind and leaves do battle      
she is plagued by shadows
is it rude to wake the sleeping
to check they're not dead ?
alt. version

old lady  passed out                  
is it rude ;  waking the sleeping
              to check they’re not dead ?
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