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Oct 2024 · 96
The Game
Michael Oct 2024
We’re told we should hate each other
And we oblige faithfully.
Outraged at our audacious neighbor,
Who we fault shamelessly.
In ignorant bliss of our part in the game,
Like sacrificial pawns -
Are we excused from the blame?
Oct 2024 · 54
Dark Escape
Michael Oct 2024
We seek escape,  
Into imagined worlds.
Where darkness contrasts
heroes and villains,  
Like stars against the black sky.
And we find brief respite  
from the serpent’s fangs,
Lazily hidden,
behind a disquieting smirk.
And we can imagine  -
If for just a few fleeting moments -
We needn’t be enemies.
Oct 2024 · 57
Innocence and Burden
Michael Oct 2024
Quietly watching miniature people
As I wait in the line to pick up mine
Crossing guards standing watch like a steeple
As tiny voices tell tales of their time.

Hands gently engulfed in protective mitts
And smiles of those relieved at weeks end
I muse to myself as I idly sit,
What story awaits me as I turn the bend?

A grand hero’s welcome surely awaits!
As I contemplate my day, so mundane
Wondering when I succumbed to life’s weight
An impostor! Lost in this grown-up’s game.

A deep breath releases my burdened mind
For stories about to regale our ride.
Inspired as I was in line to pick up my daughter from school.
Oct 2024 · 107
Semigloss Memories
Michael Oct 2024
I ponder as I look at this photograph,
This odd sense of sadness and loss.
I see it there, in my frozen laugh
Parts of myself in the framed semigloss.

Pictures that capture the profound moments
Filled with the joys and sadness of life.
Faces and places that no longer know us,
Locked in memories and flashes of light.

Each paper window shows pieces I left.
The smell of Christmas chestnuts in Rome,
A patio view of the Kenyan sunset,
Or the hum of jet engines heading home.

Like puzzle fragments thrown on the floor,
An entire life scattered so wide,
Completing a picture I can’t hope to restore
In jagged pieces that prove I’m alive.

Such is the toll expensed with each day,
In each memory we capture is a gift,
And tomorrow should feel the loss of today,
In faded photos that evidence we lived.
Oct 2024 · 60
Nostalgia’s Gift
Michael Oct 2024
Home’s not made from brick or mortar.
It’s not some place I hang my coat.
It’s that feeling I get when you walk in the door,
That makes the words catch in my throat.

It’s not some random town on forms,
Or where I spent warm summer nights,
It’s the sound of your quiet, peaceful snore
I can only hear when you’re by my side.

Home’s not some happy memory,
Fondly recalled from long ago.
For it’s nostalgia’s gift that lets me see
Home’s not a place to which I go.

It’s you - that calms my frantic mind,
Where I find that centered peace.
You’re the only place I know I’ll find,
The pressures of the world at last -
release.
I spent this last summer working on the road, and often felt home sick. This one is dedicated to my wife.

— The End —