Humor
Father Time in Dementia
Who will save us from
this shifting dance within his mind?
This rapid movement, changing beat,
confusing tempo . . .
Tell the garden fairies
to cease their screaming
halt all gyrations until we find
the answer: What is this now happening,
this rollicking-flow-movement within his mind?
Run fast, young lad, and tell the praying ladies
at the universal parsonage . . . increase your praying
and someone call the doctor –
we may need medication this time.
The gypsy ladies must come
dancing to tambourines and golden chimes.
Sing a song of ever ending, hurry,
let’s slay the ghost of Father Time!
Quick! Young lady, bring a silver dagger
and a gold pocket watch five minutes fast
along with a bottle of Ambers whine.
Quick! Sing the song of fast correction
Hurry, we all know he’s lost his mind!
That was close – Yes!
That was close Sir, the clock
has stopped at quarter to nine.
At last we’ve ended the wild devastation
of raging, aging Father Time.
~November 2011
(Just for the fun of it!)
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- Calling God “Father” in Times of Anguish-by Mark D. Roberts (trinityspeaks.wordpress.com)
The Note
What can you know at thirteen
of letters of love, soft words
of declaration – pouring forth
gushing admiration for
a high-school Adonis?
I was vulnerable, feminine,
soft – everything you’d expect
from a girl-child in love.
Too sappy, sincere, honest,
she told me —
He’ll show it to everyone – No,
not this note. But…
sad-broken humor
the only way to avoid ridicule –
You MUST
play the jokester,
not the lover, she said.
(I acquiesced.)
Later, in dark rooms,
I re-read
the first note
that would have told you
I was enamored, in heart-felt awe,
of the boy-man you were becoming.
I thought of old stories –
how we laughed together
as children. Side-by-side,
uncommon neighbors,
toddler playmates – until
the time-memory slipped away
and We were gone.
~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~
Apology was the first step
those few years later – us
technically grown, adulthood –
failed marriages, our own children,
lessons learned and learning —
Living in dark places beneath
burning turmoil, we were Us
for a millisecond, a moment.
— Then, the dark night shifted
fell from place —
The Muses laughed,
threw complication
into the mix, Fate
danced through the shadows
bumping into Us
jostling Me and You — then
the time-memory slipped away
and We were gone.
~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~
We speak without voices —
typed-letters on a screen,
new notes
written twenty years later
in real time.
Now we are friends
as we were playmates – some
strange connective-bond built
in a sandbox —
before we could know
the game we live in,
the jokes Life plays
and the roads we would choose
to follow.
And, I am still thinking
about the note
I should have given you —
September 2011
Artwork: Chiaro di luna by Escha Van den bogerd. You may find more about the artist and other works here.
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- Feeling creatively drained? Let this letter from Pixar inspire you. (thenextweb.com)
In the Quiet
in the Quiet (2006)
It is not unlike brokenness –
This feeling of having emptied myself
Into you, only
To find that you were already full
Unable to hold more.
I know of mistakes
That they are the “after-things”
The regrets and guilts of the next moments
Seem hidden in the times before.
I should apologize — for
The fact that you asked and received
The truth is it hurts
And that dismal pain reminds me…
I’m still breathing
It will be okay.
The world keeps moving
They keep talking
And I find in the Quiet
Moments of wonder
At the how and why of it.