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Jigsaw puzzle of greenery, the trees
Nestle next to each in the
slicing sideways light of sunset.
The yard in the back is filled with it,
Filled with the late late summer side slant
of sun,
The plastic Adirondack chairs, left, as we left them,
Me, looking at you, maybe my feet
in your lap...
No, it wasn’t us that set them ajar.
The one time we sat there, your discomfort
Grated on my tranquil storybook
Vision, of us sitting
in the sun,
The Wine,
so we went inside.

Now I see them, those pretend plastic,
Pale blue, light blue to match
The house,
chairs of ease,
One chair looking at the other, while
the other stares off into
We meant to build a fire that
Summer, a fire pit
evening of
But, I saw your dis-ease.
Was it the heat? The drone
of the bugs?
The chance of a gnat,
Landing in your

Or was it,…something
Something not found
in the sideways slant of
cooling air.
Was it, something
else, off
in that horizon,
by the pale blue, the light
Blue house.
cutting your sight
from the road.

It must have been, because, you said
Goodbye, several times
That summer.  A nod, a
kiss, and you were
in your mind,
because you never
left, but sat in your uncomfortable
Sadness of not
Belonging here, or
Where you thought;
Wistful plans set,  a
Blaze, not by
Midnight cords of wood
in a pile among the
Set ablaze by whimsy,
A promise,  not

So, we sat that summer,
and watched the flowers in the
pots bloom,
and the rains carry one
And the gnats gnatting
as gnats do,
Cannon balling into pinot,
taking  up
Residence, in that
Pale blue, light blue
With plastic mountain
On the lawn.

Those chairs,
Those, Adirondack chairs
Still sit, still sit askew, still
sit, in the slanting light,
Still sit, waiting,
as I do,
For a time
Things, will be right
with the
We must get, to
the other side, of
That Summer.
Let the snow pile high,
on those Chairs,
Get to, the whimsy, and
the Promise.
Watch down the
road, for a time to
travel, and not sit,
in uncomfortable
Askew in plastic
I was safe from the I-gotta-go conversation, for now...
Miriam Feb 10
I miss everything.
I miss people, I miss places
I miss family, I miss friends
I miss that feeling you get on a summer night, driving home from a family gathering,
windows down,music blasting out
with the sticky humidity
and smell of summer bbqs in the air.
The birds chirping ,insects buzzing
and the smell of freshly cut grass drifting in air, while walking bare foot through the fields
watching the sunset on those summer walks.
The family holidays,
walking along the golden kissed beaches, swimming as the sun goes down.
Having fish and chips on the pier
with the cry of gulls circling the air
and sand between your toes.
Road trips to a new place
and feeling that sense of pure exhaustion and satisfaction
as you head home on the motorway..headphones in, reminiscing the day, caught up in your own little bubble  ...
These are a few of the moments I miss the most.
The first paragraph of my latest piece on 2021 thoughts with Covid and reminiscing the things we took for granted and miss so much ... more parts coming soon
he asked me,
"have you ever been depressed"
I mentally laugh because "been" like past tense.
but I answer yes confidently as I had beat the little pest.
I asked him the same and he said yes but not any more,
and in awe I ask "how did you stop?"
he talked about it so easily,
but I struggle so hard.
He said he just knew he had to do it for him,
and instead of hope,
I felt pain,
as depression tucked me in.
The one fear I had, when I was 13 was "when will this ever end". five years later its starting to sink in. maybe its not depression, its me.
Its been 30 minutes,
were eating at the kitchen counter,
but were both watching the cake,
that chocolate cake that he loved.
I wonder how long it will stay there?
One day passed, then two,
I came home on the third,
and it wasn't there anymore.
Some how it felt like the day you left.
Now were at the counter,
staring at the coffee ***,
that we refuse to touch.
His memories crowd this house,
even if he's gone.
Dear step dad- I don't think that title suited you, ever. You've been a mom a friend and most importantly a dad to me. You have helped me through a lot. the last day of your life, I wasn't there, I didn't walk through in the morning and say goodbye. The last week of your life I don't think I said hi once. I walked past and continued. now your bed is empty and the cake is gone. How I wish I could of said good bye
The world grew sick
it happened so quick
and so the people prayed
in spiritual foundations laid

the people went to see
the healers to be set free
hurt souls seek relief
and beyond belief-
     ~the healers got sick

songs lathered in Purell
as the death tolls swell
ringing out the Sioux band’s
cared for with gloved hands
    ~hands that caught rain
       now wracked with pain

Standing Rock tumbles down
as fits of coughs drown
    “My girl, I don’t know what to do-“
the words of a dying healer
once free to roam
in death
kept far away from her  home

When they pass on
all that knowledge gone
the words and ways of old
lost as voices go cold

Breath taken away
also yesterday
is gone around the bend
ways of old set to end
     -the sacred fire untended

No more secret Candy
or cherished smiles
veterans vanquished
peacemakers in pieces:

Bear Soldier
Running Antelope
Cheryl and Jesse Taken Alive

lovers from the start
Cheryl and Jesse died
only a month apart
holes in the Taken Alive heart

Their moccasins remain still
big shoes for others to fill
Standing Rock’s hills rolling
as graves keep filling
  ~the healers got sick
     hands that caught rain
     now wracked with pain
     the sacred fire untended

... still, the fire burns
out of the ashes, Nola, a child
of those Taken Alive learns
to hear the call of the wild

Young pup’s paws will fill the boots in time
though Standing Rock’s still,
still it stands
rain to be caught by fresh hands
new ears record the tree’s chime

“We’re still here,” Nola said
Taken Alive stands still
at Standing Rock
The Indigenous people of North America are being disproportionately affected by COVID-19. Indigenous elders are dying at a rate of 2:1 in comparison to White North Americans.

This poem was inspired by the true lives and stories of the people of Standing Rock and other Indigenous communities.
John Tan Jan 29
I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin,
Every time I leave home,
I feel the gentle breeze caressing my hair,
Each time I leave for work,
Yet, the distant morning don’t feel the same anymore,
For things are no longer the way they used to be.

Family & friends are no longer faces I see every day,
Neighbours are no longer people I meet & greet,
And colleagues have now become occasional struggles,
What’s more?
The outbreak has truly destroyed our livelihoods,
Leaving us with nothing but hope.

Hope for all of this to end,
Hope for a miracle in these unsolicited times,
While we push ourselves to the core,
To stay alive in this uproar.
S Jan 28
One rose; another.

Just wait for the rain, no thorn

touching the other.
Just a small poem I wrote as a joke about covid
Andy Chunn Jan 25
She came from nowhere, mouse-like quiet
At first we thought it’s just a trick
But soon her powers were dark like night
We saw her strength cut to the quick.

Covidia came from foreign lands
But traveled fast with power and speed
And she was subtle with sneaky hands
She quickly knew our wants and needs.

Some ignored her presence here
And chose to be aloof and brave
They would never express their fear
Freedom was their cry to save.

Others feared her with cautious worry
And wanted to precautions take
At first we thought there is no hurry
But soon we rippled in her wake.

Covidia forced a change in life
Restrictions limit what we do
Isolation and the daily strife
Removed the things we thought we knew.

She swept away our social life
She caused our isolation
She propagated grief and strife
A plague upon our nation.

Many chose to ignore her power
And haughty would proclaim beliefs
But on the deathbed they did cower
And beg for peace and just relief.

Respect her and her powers now
She’s ruled us for some time
But slowly we will find out how
To stop her on a dime.

A normal life returns someday
Covidia will be lost
Never forget the price we’ve paid
The death and all the cost.
Examine the word "embrace"
How syllables escape into sound
Mouth shapes

E - M - BR - A - CE
How tender
A gentle approach

E... arms open wide
the invitation
an elongated welcome
"Come close"
Lips parted into a smile

M... a joining together

BR... limbs entangling
Millimeters pulse

A... the one enclosed

CE... teeth in contact, lips dangle
Hold that position
The lock

No letting go. No gaps. No holes

In bracchium -- this is your home.

Hug -- to console
a rush, a thud, an immediate response

H - U - G. Hug.
Here. Now. Tighter.

Speech Pathology & Linguistics.
How the mouth works, how we make sense of words -- Why does your face look like that when you say those words?

Anthropology. Semiotics. Etymology.

Notice how we gather and release,
what we do to make an embrace, a hug.
Mouths feel before nerves could touch.

Have we yearned so much that utterances have become placeholders?

Settling for words, we fixate on how we say them
Read my lips gained a new meaning

Embrace, hug
Opening and closing,
holding and releasing,

Wishing an action upon someone is not tantamount to sensations of nerve-endings

But bodies never really touch

Atoms push and pull
It's the physics around them that we feel
When palms caress
When fingers trace
When skin brushes upon skin

Let the physics of my words be enough until our electrons can interact again

In a dance

The expanse between your atoms and mine is dismissible as long as you hold on to the words "embrace" and "hug" and "kiss" and "love"  and the anatomy of how these words come to be

Until then, I wrap my whispers around yours

Their warmth is the 3rd law of motion in action
Written: May 4, 2020 amidst the implementation of lockdowns in various regions of the Philippines as part of the effort against COVID-19 spread.

This has been published in Beyond PGH: The Human Spirit Project Anthology, a collection of literary pieces written by healthcare workers and other contributors.
sergiodib Jan 24
Hope, this Covid Crisis will end soon.
So that, we can go back to

dying as usual:

Because of Pollution
Because of Climate change
Because of Wars
Because of Exploitation
Because of Poverty
Because of Drowning while migrating
Because of Cancer
Because of Car accidents
Because of Shootings from rooftops
Because of Being born

Because of Hypocrisy.
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