Play Me One More Song

Brother, come and play me one more song
For my load is heavy, my sight bleary
My days are now few where once they thronged
And my thoughts they grow ever more weary

We knew someday this day would come
Brother, come and play me one more song
The path we traveled together at last is done
For we have traveled this road so very long

You have known me all my days
From boy to man in all my ways

Give me one more memory before long
For there’s little chance I’ll make another
Brother, come and play me one more song
It would warm this heart of mine like no other

For my time is done this much is true
And when I’m gone I’ll heed you to be strong,
But ‘till we meet again I ask this last thing of you
Brother, come and play me one more song

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At dVerse Jennifer Wagner asks us to write about brothers “from any angle”. Using what I’ll call a disrupted Quartern, my muse chose the final angle.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics : Oh Brother!

National Poetry Month – Day 14

Real again

They
are gone,
with my heart
the sweet  twilights
of which I once sung

Like
the joys
and the pains
of loving you
now just memory

Yet
eyes closed
soul open
I can feel you
Dusk is real again

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Today’s form: the Arun.

A nonce poem created by friend and fellow blogger, GirlGriot, an Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements. Today, I follow the pattern she’s set, so far, left aligned and un-rhymed.  I will take a little poetic license again, in future runs of the form.

National Poetry Month – Day 13

On Her Own

.
.
Coffin covered with newly upturned earth

Contains that last of all she’s ever loved
She starts to pull rose petals from their stems
She’s aiming them to land within a shape 
Patterning pictures only she can see
Patching a tribute for lives cut away
Eyes blur with each crimson petal that falls
Upon the sodden ashes of her youth

Her life, based on the scope of others, bound 
Daughter-wife-mother; thus have been her days
Her own deep needs followed for the first time 
She finds the sudden freedom much too bold 
She watches the last petal land with grace
Then heads out to live a life on her own

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National Poetry Month – Day 12

Ro’s Rant

Boom
This ache
That was caused
Surprised me so
Eyes the color of irises in bloom
Seen from a glance across a crowded room
I should have known
’twas the start
Of my
Doom

Fell
So hard
that is what
I truly did
I wish someone had rung a warning bell
His lips upon mine had not chance to tell
That loving him
Totally
Would be
Hell

Blend
Is what
We had hopes
For both our folks
we knew for a while it would be pretend
but in time hands of true warmth would extend
Jules and I knew
it’d be good
in the
end

Blessed
is the
One thing that
We’d never be
His folks would rather take knife to my breast
And my folks held him in equal detest
Who would have thought
Parents could
Be so
Stressed?

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Using the Double Tetractys form to give modern twist on a classic Willie Shakes tale.

dVerse ~Poet Pub | Open Link Night # 176

Willow Weep

Heavy verdant draped limbs
Reach high and wide
Basking in warmth
Even as the sheer weight
Turns its more tender arms
Downward

Aye willow, weep for me

Each sultry leaf
Swaying
In the gentle breeze
Like the tears
On the precipice
Of my chin
Waiting, waiting
Waiting to fall

Aye willow, weep for me

Concealed
In its lush canopy
Foliage vales
As tears threaten
One day at a time,
They say
But today
Is summer solstice
Giving the sun
More time to sparkle on
Glistening tears
If only they
Would heed and fall

Aye willow, weep for me

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National Poetry Month – Day 10

Richard (the diminutive)

When he knocks,
My doors open
And I let him inside
For I am alive
By the power
Of his breath
That inhales
And exhales
In tune with mine

He kisses me,
Yet he has no lips
He fondles me,
Gripping me tightly
Yet he has no hands

Beauty redefined
His distinct touch
Ferries his intent to me
If I sleep, he woos me
Should the blaze of passion strikes
And revels in gregariousness
When I rise

And yes, I rise
And yes, I crumble
And yes, I rise
And yes, I crumble

I know him deeply,
Just as
He knows me deeply
From his many visit
To my halls

Until I’m done away
In colorific splendor

But he knows how to mend
when I falter

For with a gentle kiss
My doors open again

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National Poetry Month Day 9

Tiki Bar

With ambition
The tiki bar’s ‘tender
Takes cold mint leaves
To gently crush them
Into a glass for my mojito

I see his mood elevate
While serendipitously gazing
At my languorous gyrating form
The island music changes from
The daytime’s manic mamba
To the sensuous
Sunset rhythms now heard

Giving me my drink
His eyes and smile linger
Just a moment longer
To watch
One cool drop of condensation
Slide down from
My glass to
My fingertip to
My clavicle to
My solar plexus

Hands raised high
Above my head
I smile sinfully
Letting the swing
Of my well tanned body
Captivate
Before I meld
Into the impromptu parade
Of dancing bodies that pass by

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National Poetry Month – Day 8

I Dive

Forever airborne am I
Vailing to my goal
Yet never landing

Living in day and night sky
Yet earth-bound without soul
Is so demanding

Sun and stars don’t ask why
Sentenced without parole
My time ever expanding

And like my brothers to do or die
I glide in complete control
Until I break notwithstanding

rosa-mexicana-fly

The decor at Rosa Mexicana Restaurant. You cannot really see it in the pictures, these figures cover an entire wall of cascading water in precision. Though an homage to the La Quebrada Cliff Divers of Acapulco,  Mexican, renowned for their diving skills, these particular dives ever sail through the air never to land (unless the rod that holds them in place breaks).

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National Poetry Month – Day 7

If You Had Just …

If you had just

Taken one more breath

For you will always win it
As long as you’re in it

If you had just

Take one more breath,
Inhaled just one more time

Showed so many others how,
What stopped you now?

If you had just

Take one more breath,
Inhale one more time
Maybe that would have made the difference

Because “taken by her own hand”
I still cannot understand

If you had just

Taken one more breath
Inhaled just one more time
Maybe that would have made the difference
Between choosing to live or end your existence

Just. One. More. Breath

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Still reeling

 

The Process…

And thus the process starts and ends with me
 I wake with the warmth of the new spring sun
 And break through my covers damp and earthy
 The first stages of life newly begun
Through summer I grow and
 Bloom; recreating myself and
 My brethren once more in the
 Flight of birds and bees.
 
From autumn’s wings we land upon the ground
 In winter’s cocoon I slumber once more
 Then like the phoenix rise again in spring
 And thus the process starts and ends with me
  

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Theme – Thursday | Spring

National Poetry Month – Day 3