Taking Note
I stop for a moment,
even as I begin, fingers pressing
strings, and fret over the possibilities,
take note of the heartbeat sounding
through the delicate wood
pressed closely against me.
What better music could come
from a beginner with a life already lived?
This is a response to Quadrille #82 – Fretboard of Poetry, the prompt from Kim at dVerse, which is to use the word fret in a 44-word poem that does not require meter or rhyme.
Stop! Your hesitancy is killing me
There is no dearth of option here
But your indecision is just wasting
Precious time for both of us
It isn’t an epic decision anyway
I can help with choosing
What you would like to have
For your dinner entrée !
In response to the following prompts;
Your daily word prompt ;
Word of the day challenge;
RDP;
FOWC;
#keepitalive
#fowc
#rdp
There was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,
“Nothing, I just helped him cry.”
~ Hafez
Text & image source: Jana Eid https://www.facebook.com/jana.eid
………If one………
…does not know…
…to which port…..
…one is sailing…
……no wind……
…is favorable…
~Seneca~
Text & image source: Whispers https://www.facebook.com/Whispers-108030962700575/
There’s a reason
We broke up
You filed papers
The feelings are mutual
My heart is through with you
© 2019 Jason A. Muckley
I have a garden
full of baldheaded, bifocaled
therapists with sofas, chairs
and shelves of esoteric books
with all the answers inside their pages.
I water them once a day
with my problems and concerns,
fertilize them
with plenty of pain and angst
and guilt that won’t go away.
I make sure
the therapists have sufficient sunlight
to jot down important notes,
and plenty of reasons to say:
What would you like to talk about?
And, that’s all the time we have today.
I prune the issues
that I tirelessly worked through,
weed the therapists who lose their
objectivity, and compost
all my childhood memories.
“something inside me is energy, and it was not created, so it cannot be destroyed….” from the girls by Lori Lansens
we stood in front
of my childhood closet
fighting about
the course that i was on
she was positive i would
never make it
into the kingdom of her god
and to tell you the truth
to this day,
i am ever thankful
i will not..
“i will never die!”
i remember yelling at her,
knowing full well
that my physical body
would someday expire..
but i knew then
with the clarity
of an epiphany,
that the force
that i called “i”
would never die,
but just move on..
to date,
i have received
no further revelation.
no moments of insight,
no visions in the night..
yet, each time i recall
that single apparition
of teenage clarity,
it rings with a truth
i…
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The Reluctant Poet 