Redefined Dreams

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I’ve lived many lifetimes // dreamed many dreams
All in seventy-two years // a short span it seems;
Events occur //dreams often changed
Beyond my control // life gets rearranged.
Illness, accidents, joys and sorrows, death and so much more
Created a roller coaster ride in my life // that’s for sure.
Faith and family children and friends
Supported us through that dark night of the soul;
When joy returned and things were great…
They cheered us even more.
As I look back // reflect over all these years
The choices I’ve made through rain and tears;
I’m thankful I hung in there and stayed the course;
For in joy and pain we still have a choice.
I’m now reaping the benefits of redefined dreams;
After seventy-two years sailing life’s streams.

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Invisible Feelings of Loss

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What do you say to one who has lost
A spouse… a child… or a loved one dear…
When ceremony has passed and flowers have faded?
How do we handle those feelings of loss
For a week or two we might inquire…
Wondering how they are doing; in their quiet solitude
Of grief and pain; in the empty spaces of the heart.
But time goes on, those questions retire.
Pain and loss become invisible feelings
That friends have talked about long enough…
Lest repetition stir up more than they can handle.
It’s time to pass over those invisible feelings!
No time for the crying heart; only a mask of smiles // “I’m fine”;
But, if you look closely, invisible feelings are glistening in their eyes.

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Merril, at d/Verse, asked us to think about things around us that we miss or have made invisible. She asked us to be creative in our responses, so I decided to write about invisible feelings. It is often hard to know what to say to someone who has had a great loss in their family. Perhaps it is just better to be there for them. Talking some times gets in the way.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Blood and Poppies

EER_0518Each Memorial Day, when I was young, the large community cemetery behind our church filled with flags that waved across the sloping hillside. Volunteers from the VFW commemorate those soldiers who died in service to their country by placing a flag on each grave. I never saw any poppies growing as in Flanders’s Field, but many other flowers dotted the hillside along with the flags.

Memories are mixed

Joy and sorrow flows freely

as blood // and poppies

wave on the resting places

of those who never came home

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Frank Tassone asked to write a Haikai poem Haiku or Tanka that reflects on some aspect of Memorial Day.  Check them all out at:

#Haikai Challenge #35 (5/26/18): Memorial Day #haiku #senryu #haibun #tanka #haiga #renga

 

 

Home

IMG_1358.JPGAging has its issues. Downsizing and relocating is often part of the process. Letting go of the things we have emotional attachments to can be very stressful. In time we might discover that the reshuffling of our life has very positive results.  Smaller places mean less work. Retirement communities can provide resources that add to our life.  What happens as we await metamorphosis is up to us. Our attitude and mindset makes a big difference in that outcome.

Awaiting Metamorphosis

We wrap ourselves with strands of life

That tells our story from front to back.

A life of joy and sorrow…

All woven into that cocoon we call home.

 

Layer after layer we weave the strands.

Stories, pleasures, and memories abound

Bringing undefined feelings of love

To our ephemeral life.

 

Family and friends give life its edge.

Children and grandchildren cut deep into our souls

Embedding themselves in the fabric of our cocoon.

 

Cool crisp mornings with coffee and tea.

Birds and flowers and vines of Kiwi.

Unspeakable joy and pleasures surround

In our home cocoon we’ve so tightly wound.

 

Time to let go and break out of our shell.

Who knows what joys and pleasures we’ll tell

In transformation of mind and matter.

 

Though parting is great sorrow

There is still hope for tomorrow

Beyond this cocoon we call home.

Attics

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Why do we store away the traumatic events of our life? For some, they are just memories of past events. Others store their injuries and pain like treasures in the attic. They no longer have any useful purpose in life, but the lack of forgiveness keeps them alive and tender. It becomes our personal Pandora’s box that no one wants to open. We all know it will only be a review of past pain, that no one but a psychiatrist wants to hear. Time to clean out the attic and let go of things that continue to haunt us. Forgiveness doesn’t take away the memory or the hurt, but it takes away the necessity of reliving it over and over again.

Attics

Dwelling on collections of the past

Memories never moving for many years

Stuck, reliving events that won’t go away

Collecting dust of regrets

Stimulating coughs and sneezes

In anyone who dares stir

Attics for old treasures long remembered

For some, treasures of hurt and pain

Treasured to nurse pity and sorrow

Dusty old treasures of the mind

Blade twisting each time

Pandora’s box

Avoided by all

Only to be opened after death

Some better left for ashes