"miscalculating" poems
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the world turning inside out---no such thing as salted mint:)
like a wild hint
taste a glimpse of salted mint
tackle the caramel passions
cinnamon enchantment of imagines
no bit of lost roses
happiness in measured red doses
remain in the lavender's fair violet
to hesitate the sour act of deficit
to refuse the golden boil of the sun
bring a stop to the good from miscalculating the sum
-----ravenfeels
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 12:06 PM UTC
My sister bought it years ago,
too bad, my mother didn’t
get the chance to enjoy it,
she would've treasured it.
It became a reminder of sadness,
an unintended metaphor, for loss
and pain...it always brought back
that very unexpected, very sad
early morning in February.
Its bright red handle...faded
through weeks, months and
years of changing seasons,
stood on a corner for a long
time...unused, but still intact,
until i took notice one day,
brought it out of its dusty wrap
and opened the red cane umbrella.
A smiling face suddenly flashed
in mind...a presence who, on
early mornings, eagerly recited,
“I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul,”
tirelessly sketched portraits of
unknown faces during unholy hours,
planted, cooked, sewed, while
humming "Ramona"...one who
taught us about silent vows and
undying promises that eventually,
became ours to keep.
It's now an accompanying cane,
the red umbrella...it saves me
from miscalculating steps, from
falling debris, when keeping walls
from crumbling.
sally b
©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 29, 2022
Sep 29, 2022
Sep 29, 2022 at 8:53 AM UTC
These cold months leave me haggard
Breathless, as I struggle to regain my grip
Slipping through plains of uncertainty
Seeking that evasive simplicity
Scoffing at past words of comfort
That so gallantly wrapped the falsehood
Of time and its fabled curative powers
How I have been eagerly deceived
Jaded breath travels forward
Seeking concord in old and battered retentions
To only be limited by brooding reality
Where lays my pool of forgetting?
Utterances wisp past insistently
Avowing it to be just beyond
While others toy and slowly slither
Hissing of its non-existence
By miscalculating step I fumble
Mind drained of all, but shelled rummage
As it seeps into my frame
Ever hunting that eradicating amnesia
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
“They say everything can be replaced,
Yet every distance is not near”
”I shall be released” Bob Dylan
~~~~~~~
*this fragrant lyric,
burro-stubborn, hot burr burrows,
into an old man’s deteriorating brain,
one who spends nowadays, mending,
stretching short hours to feel lengthy,
by reviewing the distances he has travelled,
means/meanings to/for unalterable endings
when time hurries
to shrink distances
tween them points,
of incidents logged,
forking roads, always
wrongly chosen,
safety over bravery,
easy pain over hard love,
miscalculating time
and memory,
prioritizing avoidance
of the unknowns ******** up
the risk of the best laid guesses,
those things that come to be
the chiefest fete of contradictory
ironies, the travelogue nearly done,
what never happened
cannot be replaced.*
he sings dirges
for the remains of the day
and other things vaguely recalled.
2/2/2022 ~ 7/17/2022
Jul 31, 2022
Jul 31, 2022 at 1:44 PM UTC