We Three

You two sisters and I,
we three came home
to only one mother
now still alive.
 
But we rejoiced in our
bond that has held us so
tight  through decades of
memories that we love
to impart.
 
Though many years pass
between our visits, we pick
right up where we leave
off as if no time had elapsed.
 
The familiarity of childhood
play, roaming the woods,
biking for miles, tea parties
and birthdays shared
somehow seems an
unshakeable foundation.
 
We are intrinsically connected
and steadfast like nature’s
rhythm, the seasons
and the comforting cycles
of the sun and the moon.

Abhra is our host today over at dVerse Poets and invites us to contemplate homecoming:  http://dversepoets.com/2014/08/12/poetics-homecoming/

Ode to dVerse

Appearing unbidden
Though soft, welcoming, sweet.
Open doors…unhidden,
Beckoning from the street.
Like a bright, warming cool day,
Friends greet and support,
Uplift and urge to play;
They’re the long-haul sort.

Never a cloud or a coarse word,
Even, accepting, but by rules are lead.
Abide and check yourself, preferred;
Relax, join in, and add to the thread.
Your fears will be put to rest.
You will be held with encouragement.
Feel free to share your zest,
Your authentic engagement.

Much like a steadfast lover
(Whose partner may come and go),
Or a devoted mother
Whose affection overflows.
A fluxing group that ebbs and flows
Like the tides…and the moon.
But always will find, though,
Spirit, life, truth…a boon.

Claudia invites us to share an ode as dVerse celebrates its third anniversary. Congratulations everyone! http://dversepoets.com/2014/07/15/3-year-anniversary-celebrating-poets/

Bittersweet

She toddles
as she gets up
and hurries to
the phone
careful not to
lose her balance
and fall…again.

I watch from my
chair next to hers
where we had been
talking moments
before and notice
she has left her
cane behind…again.

In a few short months
we have become trusted
friends and I have listened
to the stories of her extravagant
and privileged life.  Strong-willed
she chose differently for her
life than her parents.

She eloped with the love of her life.
She filled her home with children,
knowing that an only child’s
life…even though a life of
opulence could be a lonely one.

Now her life has been reduced,
diminished, moderated by
old age and ill health.
Once so vibrant and engaged
with life and doing…for others,
she now relies on them and
marvels at the state that her
life has become.  And yet
she still has a sense of humor
and giggles and shakes
her head to think that she is the
mother of a now seventy year old.

She heaps me with compliments
as she eyes what I’ve worn each
time we meet and tells me I’m
“adorable” and “precious”.  Once
dressed impeccably as the wife
of a successful executive and
as the daughter of a wealthy
entrepreneur, dressing gowns
and robes are now her attire.

Still feeling the sting
of wanting more of her parents’
love and attention as a child,
she tells me again and again
of how she would often be
left with maids and chauffeurs.

Even many passing years
don’t always alleviate the
slights of our youth.

Tony Maude is hosting Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets: http://dversepoets.com/2014/01/14/open-link-night-week-128/

Accepting What Is

We muse and reflect,
this sister and I
and kick around
the hows and
whys of what
we’ve become. 

He was a boozer,
a selfish, narcissistic
disconnected man…
and when children are
raised with an uninterested,
absentee parent, they
become fearful and burdened
with insecurities.  We never
knew what we were coming
home to each day..so often
caught off balance.  Both
of them were miserable
and hadn’t the skills,
care, nor effort required
for parenting all of us,
each with needs and wants
unique from the other.

I felt alone.
I felt afraid.
I felt shame. 

I feel so sorry
for the frightened,
worried child
that you were.

They didn’t see us.
They were oblivious
to the pain they were
creating and then
heaped with more and
more layers of stress and
years ahead of therapy,
struggles, tears.

Chaos…children don’t do
well in chaotic conditions
and when they feel
they aren’t valued
they become
worried…depressed, incensed.

Anger grips and won’t
let go..bubbling up at inopportune
times…when the situation doesn’t
merit the outrage expressed.
We’re pissed, we’re fucking
pissed that both of them
chose to think of themselves
before us.  Now we’re left with
the anxiety, depression…
the accepting of what is.

dVerse Poets offers Translucent Poetics–Writing the Spoken Word presented by Ami Mattison:  http://dversepoets.com/2012/03/01/translucent-poetics-writing-spoken-word/

Shame

Emotions bubble, escape and spill,
Tears stream, dropping from the edge,
Waves of shame propel them both.
No longer concealed,
Comes out from hiding,
Truth is shared;
It’s not so bad.

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