#605
You let them drag you down
and yourself fall from grace,
the tides, their vicious,
the cold nips,
the breeze cuts,
our fingers fumble,
as our teeth chatter, while
the corners of nose crack and scream,
and yet,
the best of us,
hold strong,
against the currents,
even those they love the most,
the stand on their shorelines
unwaivered by the weather
struck up by the seas
that have brought them abundence,
safety, and service,
yes, things turn, times change,
but you, your heart, your grip
needn’t ever.
#606
Sometimes the things,
or thoughts,
heaven sent,
don’t quite arrive on time,
the moment i step out of the house,
or office,
down the stairs,
in the middle of a breath of fresh air,
a second of self…
Eureka keeps avoiding me,
as i keep awaiting her.
#607
It’s hard to capture that smell,
the dirt,
the scent of the soil
churned by the treads of my boots,
the consistency of mud,
how it clung to my laces,
how can i explain
the weight of the air
how it hung in my lungs
how it haunts me still,
it wasn’t bad,
there was no stink
just a scent,
it was different,
it was worlds away
from our yards and playgrounds,
it was the smells that made the distance
stretch further,
that wind sounded different
the birds sounded different
and i was on edge,
oh you may read about it in your textbooks
may seek it between the lines,
may speak to those who returned,
and you may think,
but you’ll never know,
and that’s the thought you should be thankful for.
#608
Long drives made shorter
with a long calls
from old friends,
early evenings,
and distant destinations
conversations covering miles,
laughter blankets latitudes
and the horizons creep
a little closer.
#609
And there it is,
the words are gone,
the moment of sunshine
covered by the clouds,
on the tip of the tongue,
my turn to speak,
and not a sentence comes,
i stumble and i stutter
in an instance
where there’s a chance
to change something
a mind, a feeling, a hurt,
an outcome for the better,
and i stumble, halt,
hike my collar,
roll my cuffs against the cold
until that moment of sunshine
floods again.
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Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write