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Prior to her final breaths, my grandmother drank a glass of water.

Summer breezes sway by the house.
In the compact room, the old grandmother
lays in bed with her grandchildren
beside her as she asks for a glass of water,
speaking and closing her eyes.

She thinks that her foreboding tears
and the breeze that embraces the roof of the house
were both foretold by the glass of water,
but only known to a grandmother.
The glass cup whispers to the water dispenser.
She stirs in bed and says to her grandchildren,

It’s time to sleep now; but the grandchildren
are watching the water dispenser’s beads of sweat
writhe desperately out of the water dispenser,
the way the breeze must sway by the house.
Sitting up, the old grandmother
takes a gulp of water from the glass cup

on parched lips. Heavy, the glass cup
slips halfway through her hand,
slips into the hand of her grandchild
and her mind full of ultimate memories.
She shivers and says she thinks she
feels tired, and closes her eyes.

It was as if time fell, says the glass cup.
I follow what I must, says the water dispenser.
With heads hanging low, the grandchildren
draw their gaze away. Then the grandchildren
put in a moment with silence like blindness
and hope that the grandmother could see.

But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the afterlife,
the little water droplets hum thirst
from between the water dispenser
into the glass cup
which has now been emptied
into the hands of the grandchildren who
have carefully placed away from her.

Time to touch the rain, says the glass of water.
The grandmother sleeps peacefully
and I question why she never wakes up.

Originally written 3/5/20.
Another one with an epigraph.
Memory of witnessing my grandmother's death as a child.
Elizabeth Bishop "Sestina" emulation.
There is a foggy lullaby
Peering through the cracks in the back of my minds eye
In my head she sings about the color blue, and how songs are like tattoos
Pressing thin ink on pen ink on skin
You cause me to think about my childhood
My identity my geography
There was a hole in a little girls bucket of stars
It caused me to act out and dance like a wild one
Like a real grown up
I have been given a secondhand chance to be
The Queen of Hearts
I give thanks to the one who look at me with love through their squinty eyes.
I have confused hands at the moment
My fingertips are breathing in new information through old tendencies
I can only dream of releasing the brown and black and multi colored demons into the wild night
From behind me
All alone  with the sound of heat and visions of lightning , I am constantly Surrounded by Art.
Stephen James Aug 2019
with the same integrity
she had
when filling out
her Rutgers application

your medicaid
and social security
would soon become
her next victims
a poem
Even in the darkness we rise at steady pace (loop)

&I know her secret
Written on her petals
She shines the brightest
By Her Self

&Drops of water
On Her surface
In the Stillness,  
Holding Light

Circling like a Sunclock in slow-motion
Following the Light x2

-Hayleo Liz Songs
Hayleolizpoetry #hayleolizpoetry

Hayley Elizabeth Redinger
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for the stupid things
That I've done.
I'm sorry that I haven't always
Been there for everyone.
I never said all the things
I really wanted to say.
I wish that I could be a
Hero to all the friends
That I've made.
I'm sorry that I've laid
All these regrets on your head.
They've been clouding up your
Vision, hanging above your bed.
I don't think I've been so
Kind to all the people that
I've met.
I hope they can forgive me
For any cruel things I might
Have said.
I'm sorry I haven't told you
How much you mean to me.
I think about you always
I hope you think fondly of me.
I'm sorry that I hurt you
I want to take away that pain.
Maybe I've been too guarded or
Seeking too much personal gain?
I know that I'm not perfect
But I'm sorry anyway.
I love you so much -
There's so much
I still need To say.

-Hayleo Liz
Hayleolizpoetry #hayleolizpoetry

Hayley Elizabeth Redinger
Uta Jul 2018
She danced with others,
with no shame, only laughter,
Elizabeth was her name,
and she had eyes of flame.

Her golden head was beyond the beauty of the Sun,
yet her skin was paler than the Moon,
and she signed the perfect tune.

She lived alone, deep amidst the trees,
her friends were the animals, especially the bees.

Nothing could compare her beauty because she wasn't a human,
yet an angel who fell from the sky,
a gift to all beings that walk the Earth and those who sing her lullaby.
Comment and tell me what you think!
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