Photo by Lotte Meijer on Unsplash Their love glows — Illuminates and bursts Proud ideas Smart edicts Two lives grown deeper, broader Than was expected. Many big-number anniversary parties are miserable affairs where the couple is dressed up, smiles when told to smile, lapses into mute, staring despair when they think no one is looking. The… Continue reading Picture of Love: Three
Photo by Stéphane Delval on Unsplash Let us walk To fresh horizons: Laughing deep, Holding close, Cherishing our dearest one The rest of our days. How companionably they amble, into the sunset, past bicycles leaning on endless fences. I imagine their conversation is easy — and that there are good long stretches when no one says anything, but… Continue reading Picture of Love: Two
Photo by Christiana Rivers on Unsplash She caught it Without an effort: Moment’s glimpse — what’s to come, glowing strong, more powerful with each precious day. I wrote the poem, then hunted for the photograph, found it in minutes. Some poems are like that. They summon their likeness for viewing, the picture and the poem… Continue reading Picture of Love: One
Photo by Serge Esteve on Unsplash Tea cups clink “The usual,” they say Waiter nods Flees table He gazes around, she chews Another dread meal.
I can’t erase you From my life, from my stories So, I’ll write you in. *** As a writer, I choose the stories that I tell. In a messy, tangled, brimming life, I have enjoyed close and distant relationships, some short, some long, all of them real and important. There are those relationships that define… Continue reading Expanding Story’s Playground
When you think you can’t, Give it you last, gasping heave — Stun yourself and glow. If his voice had not been so strong, so certain, I would never have been able to back my beloved car into that narrow space, right next to the sedan with two sweet old women watching with undisguised,… Continue reading The Voice That Carries
All your love is gone. What’s left are new story buds Starting with your songs. Driving home on indifferent road for hours, we listened to original Fleetwood Mac and The Doors. Designated rider, I scribbled one poem after another, buoyed on by lyrics, whispers, and wails.