The Older I Get the Clearer It Becomes (Thankful Thursday)
Getting Me Back
Waiting ( A Poem for Friday’s Free for All)
Waiting
For dreams left bare on empty prayer
For souls that wished in vain
For tears unshared in mute despair
While waiting for a change
For you and I and all mankind
For worlds where peace was slain
For faith and mind no man can bind
We wait and wait again.
𝑾𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 Getting me Back (The Voices Within) 𝘗𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 . 🫶🏼
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Nostalgia
She would be 66 years old today. Instead, she is frozen in time at 17 and I ….
I sit with what I have left of her – a lot of cherished memories, a handful of photographs, her purse, her wallet, her 45 records and her old scrap book.
𝘏𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 🥂
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NPM 2025 (The End of the Priest)
Well &#¥+ !
Between the garden and the grandkids I have completely neglected NPM. tsk tsk tsk
I must somehow set aside a bit of quality time for National Poetry Month in days remaining. I just must! Maybe I’ll set an alarm for that too. I only have fifty-gillion to five-gazillion alarms already.
So today I said to myself, “self you need to read one and post one.” Of course that won’t catch me up. So I read Too Much Pain by Donna Ashworth. And for a post I went willy-nilly and typed “22” into one of my files and this is what popped up.
Some people do the same thing when looking for a bible verse to inspire/guide/comfort and swear that fate will always give you an appropriate response.
I’m just over here going hmmm.
Happy reading & writing. Now y’all go read or write something poetic.
Write on!
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LIFE BEHIND THE RAILROAD ( #TBT )
I have been doing a lot of reflecting these past couple of weeks. Convalescents affords me that luxury; and let me tell you all of life feels like a luxury- a new lease on life.
If you follow me on TikTok you know I survived being electrocuted late last month. The after effects are a pain and still manifesting. Still, I am sooo grateful to be on the topside of the soil.
Anywho, I thought I would share some of my reflecting with this poem from Getting Me Back.
A little aside: My last visit to the old place was about twenty years ago. It was one of those random stops; my youngest son was in high school and we were on our way home from a dental appointment.
I said, “Hey you wanna see where I lived once as a child?”
Being the adventurous soul that he is he said, “sure!”
So, without further adieu, here you go.
🖤~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🖤
Life behind the railroad tracks
We called home a wooden shack
Lulled to sleep by passing trains
A tattered roof deterred the rains
Chilling winds crept through the walls
Carrying echoes of coyote calls
Two to three in every bed
With coats and quilts to cover our heads
Winter’s cruelty calmed us none
We unfurled early to meet the sun
Neither ice nor snow could hold us back
In hopeless times we crossed that track
Coon hunts and rat kills, boy we had fun
Don’t think it strange, it’s just what we done
June bugs and fireflies, the games that they sparked
Freeze tag and chase we played in the dark
We watched the train as it come and it go
The height of intrigue was to see a hobo
My life was carefree, the world a front door
I wasn’t concerned about being so poor
Our laughs outweighed most of the pains
Life came and went just like the trains
I sometimes reflect on that little old shack
And life behind the railroad track
Laughter rings over a muted cry
With a smile in my heart and a tear in my eye
No times are not tough but times are not fair
We done what we must to get here from there
For ice nor snow could hold us back
In hopeless times we crossed that track.
- True story. Forney Texas 1970 something
Poem from Getting Me Back (The Voices Within)
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Little Man
IT’S TIME TO GO to bed little man
Cover up your head little man
I’ll see you when the sun breaks in the morn
Say your prayers and close your eyes
I’ve locked the monsters all outside
She’d sang those words to him since he was born
He grew to be a brave young lad
And followed after his ole dad
Beneath a flag of pride his oath was sworn
They brought him home in silk lined wood And all around him soldiers stood
While Butterfield’s Lullaby played on the horn
It’s time to go ahead little man
I know that you weren’t scared little man
My heart breaks, I can’t see you and I mourn
I’ve said my prayers for your closed eyes
I’ve tucked my feelings deep inside
She sang into a folded flag of thorns.
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It’s officially Autumn (Summer Adieu)
BTW A happy belated birthday to Stephen King, the king of horror. 👑 Yesterday (September 21st) he turned 75 years young. Here’s to many more. 🥂
🎉🎈🎈🎈🎈 🎈🎂
I was going to post 75 candle emoji’s but my finger started cramping. 😉
Without further adieu, let us recognize this, the first day of fall, with an aging poetic piece.
Summer Adieu
It’s out of the flip-flops and back in the Reeboks
and long pants dug out of the dust
So long to the tank tops, bikinis and cut offs
and lawn chairs left lying to rust
Adieu to the sand dune, the pelican and plain loon
My loves, we’ll see you `fore long
Leaves drop as trees swoon, long past the crop moon
With the scent of a sweet autumn song
Let’s all take a big swill to ward off the night chill
Winter’s a season away
Crank up the camp fire; avoid the ole quagmire
With children perched high on the hay
More about the Autumn Equinox at National Geographic
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Shubunkin (Friday’s Free for All)
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In the Storm (April is National Poetry Month)
(#NPM )
In the Storm
I reach for you…
With every crack of thunder
I hear you laugh…
Your smile is every bolt of lightning.
The drops of rain, you touching me,
with unsalted tears…
No more pain; no more regret.
I raise my arms,
as a child beckoning to be held
and it pours.
My grief is washed away by
stinging pellets of a spring rain
Leaving behind a clean slate
with only memories of the most mundane,
most cherished moments of my life.
Credits:
I created the cover from a photograph I had taken.
The heading image (The Storm) was created from a compilation of images I found at Pixabay. (Thank you Pixabay contributors).
The poem, In the Storm was taken from this twisted book of poems. And… guess what?
For a limited time my partnering experiment with Smashwords lets the reader decide what they will pay. Yep! You decide. Check it out.
And don’t forget to follow my podcast
Just keeping it real. 😘
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As If #NPM
As If
As if your shoulder brushing against my breast
in a crowded room meant anything to me…
As if your smile would thaw my frosty heart…
As if your constant assurance could overcome my cynicism…
As if the invisible boulevard would never rise up and beckon.
The street lamp glows in the bleached mist only three floors below us.
I blow streams of smoke into the black night and hum to the drone of the unseen road.
Be steel my bleating heart!
Be quiet! Be silent, hard steel.
As if wearing your tee-shirt made us lovers.
You can listen here.
From Getting Me Back (The Voices Within)
The Real Janna Hill in 