Sammi’s Weekender #197 (call)

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I wrote two poems because I liked this prompt.

Happy Raspy

The young, talented, beautiful Irish busker’s angelic voice,
unique and indescribable, called to me from Grafton Street.

Her glancing smile and raised brow calls all to pay homage
to the gift that brings me to resonated tears. My raspy old poem.

***

Yo, Billy Boy

When we said, “Call for me,”
we invited a friend, always a boy,
usually Jimmy, to stand outside and yell,
“Hello, Bill (or Billy)” loud enough
to be heard from any part of the house
and responded to, if anyone cared.

***

Look both ways on Grafton in Dublin.
Mind the gaps in such a marvelous voice.

Sammi’s Weekender #196 (possess)

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Half of One

Her possession complete,
their synergistic power became
magic greater than ever.

Look both ways because life is short and comes with a price.
Mind the gaps for inspiration and answers.

(I have no idea if she is the possessor or the possessed. I was thinking the former, but the latter works too.)

 

Poetry: Mind Reading

Should you want to read my mind,
and I yours? Do our thoughts matter?

And what of dreams?
Are they in our minds, barely clear,
unseen reverie of thoughts, only real when we sleep?

If you could read my mind, could I then read yours?
Would we share thoughts, and each be of two minds?
I’m often with two minds while claiming one—
more conflicted than confused. Do you see through eyes
that are like windows to a witness,
seeing my thoughts,
or are they mixed with yours in me?

If I could read your mind, would a new universe
be revealed to me? One with background and rationale
to justify your thoughts. Would I understand you better?
Or is it true that you and I are what we do?

If you read my mind, do you see my thoughts
through the lens of yours? If not, are my words and actions
filtered through your mind and thoughts? Is that truth?
Are you able to separate you and understand me alone,
entirely without you, your life, your experience, your own thoughts?

“I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try”

“But that was just a dream
Try, cry, fly, try
That was just a dream
Just a dream
Just a dream, dream” *

Forget my mind. It’s crazy anyway.
Read my heart. Listen for my soul.
Judge me by what I do. Ultimately, that is who I am.
I am not a poet. I’m your poet. And you’re mine.

Look both ways. Believe the real, the truth. We are what we do.
Mind the gaps and the pullbacks, the maybes are filled with deceit.

(* Lyrics from Losing My Religion, R.E.M.)

Sammi’s Weekender #195 (gargantuan)

Small Heart; Big Deal

Sometimes, size matters. It seems sensible,
big things are to do big jobs. But not always.

Our most important parts are brains, hearts, lungs, livers, and stomachs.
In that order. Everything matters but size.

The most impressive of these is the heart.
Small, weighing less than a pound, it does gargantuan work.

Pounding up to 25 quarts of blood each minute every day at 70 beats a minute,
one-hundred thousand times per day. Three billion in a lifetime.

The size of my fist, our hearts, yours, and mine,
have been heralded through history, physically and emotionally.

Look both ways in chambers and valves.
Feel and hear as the beat goes on. Mind the gaps on the EKG.

Sammi’s Weekender #194 (beguile)

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Delusion of Truth

Were they so deeply deceived?
Is companionship enough?

She was beguiled by deception, he by
love and trust, they by knowing.

Truth was given freely, and the cost
was death, maybe. How simple.

The book deceived me, tempted
by eternal heavenly bliss,

Dishonored by knowing morality.
Then I read the book.

Look both ways.
Doubt lies, believe truth.
Mind gaps for deception.

Sammi’s Weekender #193 (faction)

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My Factitious Fog

Galère thoughts compete with factional voices
as divides within my indeterminate mind sway opinion, always—
competing thoughts contending for favor,
seeking confederates with logical knowledge,
either knowing or not knowing.
What difference does it make?

I’m haunted by TMI.

Look both ways and mind the gaps for tricks and trips,
or steppingstones,
but don’t expect it to be easy.

Sammi’s Weekender #192 (tenacious)

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Throes of Democracy

There is romance and pleasure in war and revolution
for men who would die for this cause,
for women who cast the shadow of tenacity
by engaging that fight with pen or by sword,
pressing toward glorious death for some, or
murderous slaughter for others. All
seeking the tenacious grip of Liberty
Enlightening the World with promises,
gripping magical dreams of democracy
lighting the American utopia won, not given
by some mumbled blessing.

Look both ways while guarding your shores.
Mind the gaps for creeping internal enemies.

Sammi’s Weekender #191 (crucible)

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Anarchy Unmasked

Let dogs of anarchy desecrate
this history of earned heritage,
as shameful palls shake
souls of long defended freedom.

Withstand this crucible of vile hate
set deep in mindless true believers,
followers waving flags of folly,
in vulgar disgust beneath daemons.

Let us all stand tall and proud,
defending democratic doors
and windows to fearless hearts, trust
this legacy; let it be, set it free.

“Stand ye calm and resolute,
Like a forest close and mute,
With folded arms and looks which are
Weapons of unvanquished war.”

Let tyrants dare, in agony of despair,
to dislodge righteous love for freedom.

***

Quotation is from The Masque of Anarchy by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1819).

Look both ways. Say never to tyranny.
Let us mind the gaps but withstand our tested love of Liberty,
that masked delicate lady in scrubs who defends life.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #189 (troglodyte)

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Favored Bonds

With nothin’ left to lose, they closed their doors.
Perennials, long past thirty-seven point eight median years,
they lived what’s left of life.

She, an unwilling anchoress,
he a happy troglodyte of hopeful health.
With preeminence declining,
they stood their ground.

They shunned from their bubbled bastion those
who denied reality or died in denial
of reality’s science, as plagues of nonsense
took many from loved ones.

Together, they danced ‘till the end of love,
touched by mature minds.
Happy to be alive in a new world, until
the end of time comes for them.

Look both ways crossing life’s boundaries.
Mind the gaps and keep moving.