How We Become

our existence is pure chance
from the first breath to the last

…we begin to emerge

we reside in our hulls
as best we can

…we accept our fate

no destiny is foretold
it would be a lie

…we begin to build our futures

the influences we encounter
shape our course

...we put the pieces together

our existence in this world
a compilation of experiences

…we accept or reject what we encounter

this being of our own making
punctuated by false starts

…we are the entity we discovered

years of facing trials
and joys captured in moments

…we become

a lifetime to savor through memories
a person determined

Thank you, Akshita, for inspiring these thoughts!

Branching Out

clutching the familiar
history entwined
all around me

each dance with rain
an opportunity
sowing strength and hope

the crackling of old
sheds to reveal
new growth

expansion through the seasons
reaching full potential
and glorious heights

time, an enemy of our state
robs us of our vitality
we are eventually humbled



#The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 477 by Anita Dawes

The genetics in our family put me at a higher risk for Alzheimer’s, not a high chance but still. It’s something I worry about in my old age. Getting old sucks. 😦

Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie ~ Authors

Everyone agreed it was a pity
The loss of a brilliant mind
Most turned away in disgust
At the way, the dribble dried on his chin
He would groan, shrug, and dribble some more.
There’s no way to truly lament
The loss of anything
Much is hidden from us
That others do not wish us to see
Life itself is a raffle
Inevitably, you receive your number
Until you inhale your last
That’s not to say life is grim
There are brilliant flashes of light
Rainbow moments to remember…

©anitadawes 2020

ABOUT US: For those new to our website and blog, we would like to thank you for visiting. Between us, we write in several different genres, so there should be something for everyone to enjoy. Anita cannot abide computers, so I (Jaye) do all the technical (oily rag) stuff! Our books tend to be varied, from…

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Slipping Away

Adrien King @ Unsplash

Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see #51, Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Foresight &
VJ’s Weekly Challenge – Reason

we watched the grains of sand dwindle
even with foresight and understanding
the reason our bodies have given up
is not a mystery

death is upon us
time has run out
it’s useless reaching up at dusk
to reverse course


#Whatdoyousee

John Grey

GOOD AND EVIL

The carving on my wall
is some African devil mask
that I picked up on my travels.
The hollow eyes stare
all day, all night,
at the crucifix on the mantel.
There is good and evil
in everything…
even a room.

LOOK, UP IN THE SKY

Crows on a tree branch,
DC-10 heading south.

One gets roadkill,
the other, peanuts and a beverage.

They both fly
but the cabin service differs.

IN THE NURSING HOME

Each confined
to their own room,
the sick can no longer
suffer together.

No communal TV.
The tables are silent.
Cards put away.

Here is an exile
inside another exile.
Even thoughts
can’t find their way
through to other people.

THE FIELDS SURROUNDING THE MONASTERY

Day flips open the land this morning.
Some fields lie fallow.
Others are anxious to grow.
Monks move about them,
praying and sowing.
In a world made brilliant
by the beneficence of the sun.
it never once occurs to them
that they are the only shadows.

THAT POET IN THE FOXHOLES

He was a soldier.
Made it to sergeant.
Three stripes.
Wore them proud.
He wrote poetry too.
Mostly in foxholes.
Never composed one
before he went to war.
Nor when he came home.
Only when the bullets
were flying, did he think
a bloodroot worth
saying something about.
They bud,
bloom barely a day,
then die.
They never ask
for any of this.

~~~

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Sin Fronteras, Dalhousie Review and Qwerty with work upcoming in West Trade Review, Willard and Maple and Connecticut River Review.

Untitled

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#TheShortofIt

Bad News

Untitled
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I awoke in dimmed light — the spirit of forging on slightly dampened. 
But a new day had begun anew. I owed it to nature to oblige with movement. 

Slow slaps of arthritic pain on the laminated floor bore witness to that effort.
The smell of coffee circulating in my nostrils urged me on. 

Looking out the kitchen window previewed a gloomy day.
Bare brown limbs prominently on display with the sun hidden behind the white backdrop.

I watched as flat and fluffy white flakes mingled with the ice-encased scenery.
The hard-crystalized nature would eventually shatter, litter on the ground indiscriminately. 

Steam from my coffee curled up into view like a typical fog.
This scene of dreariness further clouding my demeanor. 

The TV spouted the daily “Breaking News,” breaking me down even more.
“Does anything good happen anymore?” I wondered. 

The responsibility of my existence sits on my desk chipping away at my bank account and self-esteem.
Once again, screaming, “I can’t give what I don’t have.” 

My ringing cell phone urged a distraction from this misery.
Tears began to flow as another nail hammered in, another in my generation gone. 

With trembling hands, I ended the call and stared out the kitchen window.
And with a heaving chest, a wet face, and blurry vision, I broke. 

I should have predicted the inevitability of heading back under the covers.
The older I get, the heavier the weight of what life has to offer, the more defeated I am.

Reblog – Haiku – ‘Looking at Himself’ – A poem by Goff James

Goff does a wonderful job of giving us a visual about aging but in addition, I could see the weariness of sorrow from a hard life in this piece. I can even see the face of a man who’s made really bad decisions in his life and now having to live with those truths. Well done!

Art, Photography and Poetry

Image and Poem Attribution © goffjamesart/photography/poetry

Click here to read more haiku poems by Goff James

goffjamesart.wordpress.com

All rights reserved

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Reblog – Daddy’s little girl by Smitha

Smitha did an amazing job with this piece on aging. It really tugs at the heartstrings and HITS HOME.

Eúnoia

When she could stay with you

she decided not to

A list of ‘valid’ reasons she gave –

No better place, save

The home for the aged, she said

The one, where you felt caged

She repeated it oft

Her voice tender and soft

You listened

Your eyes glistened

She said it was tough

You knew she had done enough.

She watched you go

Out of the door

You  waved goodbye

You turned around, maybe this is all a lie

A ray of hope flickered in your tired eyes

Breaking through your formidable guise

Maybe she’d ask you to stay

And wouldn’t let you walk away

But she didn’t, not that day

So you waved, ‘Goodbye’

Doing what’s best

For her and the rest

For you’ve never wanted more-

Than to watch her smile like before

And do the things she wanted to

So she does –

Penning poems

On…

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