in a way time is like a dime,
tails for passing,
heads for gaining,
because time is so limited,
a dime is limited,
so think it as this,
collecting all the dimes may gain you so much time,
but you'll be wasting the dimes,
because you never use them.

By the time as it passes endlessly without coming to a halt.
Each human has been gifted with wealth, wether that be material or
not is of no importance, some possess more, some do possess less.
However, the most valuable wealth which is in a clear recording,
Is neither chosen to be owned, nor can one choose to abandon it.
Some tend to waste it, according to others by their individual opinion.
For some it is a cruel fate, as it runs out quicker until the life has reached its destined point, fades away into the embrace of death
Some use it for their advantage, to gain success, renown, luster.
Are you able to guess what it is, has the obvious been pointed out ?
Tick, tock, time passes, to never to turn and change it's path
As I am getting lost in emotions, such as tremor in my thoughts, I have stared into the pocket watch, its motion which gently calms me,
Thinking about the seconds which pass, I am locked in this angel's
sight with no chance to flee, digging deeper into the structure of my mind without minding the time which is escaping before my eyes.
Tick, tock, self reflection, thinking through actions, this time I spend staring is far from being wasted, far from being thrown away.
Until finally, I close it, sighing in relive

~ Umi

It comes quietly,

In the night,

A moonlit passing.

It comes loudly,

In a crash

A battle

Lit by the sun

The moon

LED lights

It creeps into everyday lives.

And takes what lives there.

REMEMBRANCE of HARRIET HARRIS –

mile ate mum: Christened as averred one Harriet Kuritsky. A Brooklyn babe born on November 13th nineteen thirty five, the youngest (and last of the lot tubby alive) of four siblings (only one brother), whose Brexit from world viz terminal illness, she did not survive.

The following emotions communicating heartfelt grief practically vanquished as existence turned a new mo' tiff leaf. A recurring abysmal grief stricken state consumed my entire being immediately fool low wing her demise, but pooch less so now. Perpetual tears of sadness seemed not to a-bate, when grim reaper brandished signature scythe 'n of deadlocked fate.

Twas about 11:00 a.m. 2005 third of May, our dearly beloved mother fought tooth and nail to keep death at bay (as recounted by eldest and youngest sisters, who elected to remain on vigil that day), nonetheless rigor mortis upper hand brought (supposed) painless swift death, her diseased and emaciated riddled body gone lifeless and ashen gray.

Profound mourning brought misty eyes
from only heir misses, whom hissed mom
more so than then now, but noneless
more than plaintive words spell
with agonizingly pained heart and soul
rent asunder psyche pell-mell
no amount of weeping can quiet and quell.

Cathartic for me to give posthumous ode
conveyed in an easy to read poetic code
to help accept finality and permanent loss,
now only retrievable from nostalgic memories
identified as childhood doghouse favorite abode.

Her cremated ashes no longer remain sealed in nondescript box boot scattered to the four winds at a favorite secluded spot - that really rocks with the Moss evoking a spring stein.

White, powdery chalk like material
devoid of any vestigial semblance
to her once living and vibrant self
that unique persona pulverized and vaporized
(housed former svelte and tall
Arthur Murray ball-room dance teacher
a half-century plus prior to her demise

which beauty, charm and grace quickly
caught the attention of my father
who courted and eventually proposed
to this young flirt and tease of a gal)

inert organic matter represented sole
residual embodiment reduced to dust
and near nothingness former corpo
real being of blood, bone and flesh

weighing no more than a dozen hatch marks
on the scale absence bore down heavy
like millstones round the neck per
black void created by defeat with
Grim Reaper toward this woman,

who birthed and nursed me into
manhood momma’s only grown son
felt torturous ripples of grievous sadness,
no matter years of suppressed anger,
and rage in addition to emotional
conflicts between us, which
in variably wrought unpleasant relationship
and legacy of discord writ large across
the tapestry of mine existence.

Climbing on the bus
Not looking forward to this trip
But it meant so much to her  
And how could I predict

That it would be her last hurrah
Before she passed away
Just one year ago marks
The anniversary of that day

It was an annual trip, with her twin
They took to different cities
With a group of old church folks
They called themselves
“The Traveling Gypsies”

As it turned out to be
My last fond memory
Of my mother and her twin
Before they were stripped
Of all their memories

Alzheimer’s was their reward
They gave it quite a fight
Bed ridden in their final days
Until they saw the light

Who's to say how it will end
Or where that place will be
A gutter in the streets of life
Or home where it should be

So as I sit and contemplate
These moments I recount
I think about the road ahead
And how I’ll make it count

Cry not beautiful sister
For although you might now miss her
Our equine friend will live in us
The entropy of justice thus
Will make her but immortal

Bring forth the divine wings of tragedy
Laced with rainbow droplet fantasy
Cantering our memories
Through this vigil ceremony
To a time before the dust

May the gods caress her noble spirit
For they witnessed every single minute
The love you share so magically
This mare has spun reality
To make our lives worth dreaming

Let her magic gather the herd
To bring one thousand just like her
To serve so loyally and gratefully
For the grace of our integrity
We owe all this to Pegasus

Long live the angel steed
Long live the carrier of dreams
Reminder of mortality
Unending in our memories
We did not lose sweet Pegasus

We gained all the things she brought to us
Forever

Limbs like bricks;
Weight to heavy to carry,
Don't have the energy to drag them.

Not sleepy, but too tired to get out of bed.

Acting like a child; pretending to sleep,
Lying about having a cold,
But simply sick mentally,
That's not a good excuse, I know.

Never thinking enough,
Then thinking too much,
Repeat, repeat the process.
It'll pass sooner or later, probably later.

This burden is not only one person,
It's now infected the loved ones,
So apologizes come out for the burdensome ways.

Shall stay in bed today, shall wait for it to pass,
Missing another day, wasted away,
Oh well, it isn't missed anyways.

The numbness has sent in,
The burdensome ways already in control,
Will just wait it out, and wait for tomorrow.