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"reconvened" poems
In widowhood, Mom lived alone in the house that was her pride. Though a faded glory to others 'eyes it still held her dreams inside. Still, Mom was growing feeble in terms of strength and mind. Assisted living loomed ahead, just past that Christmastide. So all us children reconvened to bide our home farewell. We decked her halls with garlands, Her doors with Christmas bells. For years she'd had a tiny tree placed on a table stand. This Christmas saw a Douglas fir which made her home look grand. We gathered round the Christmas Tree and raised our voice in song After a cup (or two) of cheer not a single note seemed wrong. Evening came and that tree shone bright- lights twinkling in the dim. There were hugs and kisses all around to Margaret, Clare and Jim. That was our last Christmas in her home The last that we would share. In Memory it is evergreen- so let me linger there.
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:38 AM UTC
The Last Christmas Tree
In widowhood, Mom lived alone in the house that was her pride. Though a faded glory to others 'eyes it still held her dreams inside. Still, Mom was growing feeble in terms of strength and mind. Assisted living loomed ahead, just past that Christmastide. So all us children reconvened to bide our home farewell. We decked her halls with garlands, Her doors with Christmas bells. For years she'd had a tiny tree placed on a table stand. This Christmas saw a Douglas fir which made her home look grand. We gathered round the Christmas Tree and raised our voice in song After a cup (or two) of cheer not a single note seemed wrong. Evening came and that tree shone bright- lights twinkling in the dim. There were hugs and kisses all around to all my next of kin.. That was our last Christmas in her home The last that we would share. In Memory it is evergreen- so let me linger there.
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Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
The Last Christmas Tree
Enid turned her wheels A red flash through Luscious green Across the wall of corns In what felt like No time at all The gabble reconvened Inside the hessian on bread street Taiyo and Darcy Evoked the Spanish coast Fresh faces following More mature fingers Frankie and Debs Move us from Spanish shores To Antarctica, with penguins Brian and David Then comes 'The Man' Four men , four beautiful men To play us out and We don't stand a chance with them now
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Pens and Ants
You were uncomfortable in the car. Mentally, and then physically. Your thoughts and stomach churning, your throat tight. Your body yearning to expel what you'd consumed. But nothing more than 30 minutes of discomfort, that's all. You laughed through it, comforted a friend. You sat with discomfort and then turned the page. Onto the next... You smiled a lot. You bounded up boulders, sure of your footing. Or rather, never unsure of your footing. You moved in a pack and then alone on your own path. The rocks were beautiful up close, swirling and sparkling, embedded with coral and shells. The people around you made you happy and the sun made you happy, in that pool of warmth on top of the rocks. You wanted music, but when it was not there, the sound of silence was beautiful too. Or the sound of the desert, which is not exactly silent but something close. The sight of the world kept hitting you in the chest. Literally breathtaking. And each time a new wave of gratitude would hit, but also some sadness. Why would you EVER give up your lucky existence in this beautiful place? What stupid, surface-level **** would make you want to do that? Your friends needed you at one point, and you realized how much you meant to them and they to you. Ali crying broke your heart. You couldn't stand the thought of any one of them feeling alone. You thought and said, "We're all alone together," which is a cheesy line from a song that rang especially true. As scary as it is to be alone, we're all here together, separately, but to support one another. You sat in a huddle on the edge of the world with people you loved so dearly and laughed and hugged and cried and realized the rest is just ******** And you thought maybe all that matters is doing it all before you die and love, and maybe love is God. Everyone reconvened and walked down a path in a big clumpy line through massive rocks and Dr. Seuss trees with music echoing through the canyon. We stopped and danced and took our shoes off in solidarity with Ruby. It was cold, but I don't think anyone was ready to leave, despite being 20 feet from the parking lot. So we danced barefoot till the sun disappeared. Be grateful, love, and all the rest is ********
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Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 12:50 PM UTC
Memories from On High
You were uncomfortable in the car. Mentally, and then physically. Your thoughts and stomach churning, your throat tight. Your body yearning to expel what you'd consumed. But nothing more than 30 minutes of discomfort, that's all. You laughed through it, comforted a friend. You sat with discomfort and then turned the page. Onto the next... You smiled a lot. You bounded up boulders, sure of your footing. Or rather, never unsure of your footing. You moved in a pack and then alone on your own path. The rocks were beautiful up close, swirling and sparkling, embedded with coral and shells. The people around you made you happy and the sun made you happy, in that pool of warmth on top of the rocks. You wanted music, but when it was not there, the sound of silence was beautiful too. Or the sound of the desert, which is not exactly silent but something close. The sight of the world kept hitting you in the chest. Literally breathtaking. And each time a new wave of gratitude would hit, but also some sadness. Why would you EVER give up your lucky existence in this beautiful place? What stupid, surface-level **** would make you want to do that? Your friends needed you at one point, and you realized how much you meant to them and they to you. Ali crying broke your heart. You couldn't stand the thought of any one of them feeling alone. You thought and said, "We're all alone together," which is a cheesy line from a song that rang especially true. As scary as it is to be alone, we're all here together, separately, but to support one another. You sat in a huddle on the edge of the world with people you loved so dearly and laughed and hugged and cried and realized the rest is just ******** And you thought maybe all that matters is doing it all before you die and love, and maybe love is God. Everyone reconvened and walked down a path in a big clumpy line through massive rocks and Dr. Seuss trees with music echoing through the canyon. We stopped and danced and took our shoes off in solidarity with Ruby. It was cold, but I don't think anyone was ready to leave, despite being 20 feet from the parking lot. So we danced barefoot till the sun disappeared. Be grateful, love, and all the rest is ********
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that night in december was when we came to be- we knew each other it seems in passed distant memories. this cold winter evening was our chance to know one another as we are now; retracing footsteps getting back to basics. funny how we reconvened at a church and it was so suitable for you to fall in love with me right there because our hearts aligned in a holy design- as if it were truly God putting us back together.
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Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
love crafted in the heavens
"it's crazy how much aesthetics affect your wellbeing" well, being as we reconvened in the same place that ignited the spark of course it was gonna feel good again and being, well back in the place where love was our life of course i'm going to miss you the time for irrational excuses has run out i feel stuck in an hourglass that, while surely moving, its direction and what [who] it's covering is indetectable asking far too many questions and finding too few answers *is this a delusion? do you miss him or the ease? forgive or not? where to draw a line?* what the **** are you doing?? the truth sets you free, baby beyond all the shortcomings you miss sweet, reciprocated bliss.
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Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
s[h]ifting
In adolescence I dreamt amongst friends What we might become, "The President!" Said he, "A Princess!" Said she, "Happy." I said. Reconvened as adults we discussed The likelihood of our dreams, And found mine least of these.
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Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC
Childish Dreams