Prodigality

For The Sunday Muse prompt #122:

**
We have carried
our bodies to a far country,
the weight of the burden
of the duty of sons
driving us like a ship
heave-hoing in a stormy gale
to the place where our kin
were brought before.

Each day we toil
amongst the living
to save the ones
we hurt by leaving,
the labour of our bent backs
a libation poured on dry earth,
to appease the spirits
of the old ones. This
is our penance, a prayer
sung to the tune
of the songs handed down.

We the born, and those
who were borne
will someday shake
the shackles of shiny things
and like prodigals
find our way home.

Hope

For The Sunday Muse prompt #121. After Emily Dickinson.

**
Hope is the thing
that shimmers
in the distance
the faint light
flickering in the
brooding stillness
of the afternoon heat,
the persistent promise
that this thirst, this
longing for restoring
will be sated by rain.
It is the pulse
quickening with the
lengthening shadows
of evening and the
return of familiar
sights to the eyes.
It is home
calling the lost son
to return to the
dangerous duty
of tending.

Disappearing


For The Sunday Muse Prompt #116. Image “Seeing Black & White” photography by  Susie Clevenger

**
Yesterday’s ghouls
are slowly disappearing,
fading like the night light
once bright but now dappled,
wisps of grey carried away
in our slipstream,
lingering like the dust
a knight’s steed leaves
in the frenzy of flight.

But the promise is a mirage,
objects in a mirror
are closer than they appear
and though we run
as though the wind bears us,
yesterday’s shadow lurks
in the space between
the things we leave
and the things that
disappear

NaPoWriMo 2020 – Day 30: The Thing The Birds Bring

Last day, Yay!!!  The prompt for today as this season of NaPoWriMo comes to an end is to write a poem about something that returns. Photo by Zane Lee on Unsplash
***
The songs
the birds bring
each spring
remind us
of the stirring
of life, darkness
yielding to the
lengthening light
and cherry blossoms
blooming again.
Hope is the thing
that birds bring
that after death
comes life,
and rebirth.

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 28: Bedroom

Today’s prompt asks us to describe a bedroom from our past, inspired by Martha Dickinson Bianchi’s description of her aunt’s (Emily Dickinson) cozy room. My room in the house on 39th street came to mind.
***
Long days
longer nights
rubber balls
bounced off walls
till smudged,
comics snuck
under the covers,
childhood fantasies
of meeting George
and the other four
of being Super Man
and Captain America.
Behind all the smell
of things lived in.
These are the things
we can never forget.

NaPoWriMo 2020 – Day 26: Questions

For Day 26, on which the prompt is to write a poem based on your answers to an ‘almanac questionnaire’.
***
I reach out to the sun
to quell this longing to be free
to feel its warmth on my face
like the trees do, stark against
the blue skies. The same way the
grape hyacinths, teased out
by the sense of spring
grow out, adding colour
to the gaudy box I now call home.
The childhood dream was to run free
to revel in the clouds of
red earth my feet stirred,
but fear has me penned in.
Hope lingers here.
and freedom too.