20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


5 Comments

Echoes of Tomorrow’s Past

In your tear-filled rage
of not deserving,
time and space
collide with the moon
in your heart,
guide, seek,
draw you to the edge,
invite you
to cast your sorrows,
your excuses,
into the Unknown,
nothing more than
echoes of tomorrows past

©SpiritLed 2014
http//:wp.me/p2Ptur-6p


A Bit of Grandma’s Wiisdom

Once, as autumn was blowing away

on  crunchy brown leaves,

and frost had appeared, taking the last asters,

I sat on my porch, shivering,

thinking how long it was until spring.

I longed for daffodils,

and warm breezes.

I looked deep inside and realized

that I longed for my past.

When my kids were little,

before I lost my son and health.

When my marriage made me smile.

When I was young.

Then two of my grandsons ran up the street.

They hugged me so tight,

“I love you, Beebee” they smiled.

And I smiled too.

I remembered my grandma used to say,

“We should never wish time away.”

She lived to be 96 years old.

She was so brave and so wise.

I smiled and hugged my grandsons,

and tried to appreciate the biting winds

yet to come before daffodils.


Can’t Stop Time

Time marches on

But all I want

Is for it to stop,

Pause in this moment

Allow me to enjoy where

I am,

To stay safely

In a moment of comfort.

Life blurs by

As I hope desperately

For it to slow

At good times

To speed up in times

Of pain and discomfort.

Time listens to no man

Or woman for that matter.

It rules above all else,

Taking us along for the ride

Willing or not.

Fight as we might

Time – life always wins.

We all die in the end

We all live in between

According to the whims of

A moving sun.


1 Comment

I Close my eyes

IMG_0051

The flight of life, all I am or hope to be. I close my eyes.

I am a child, turning as I look for signs of growing up,

then a teen, swirling in front of a mirror,

dreaming of college, midnights out, no curfew.

Suddenly, I awake to the sound of wedding music

and then a baby cries as I shake my head.

The laundry awaits, my feet hurt.

Life, where is it going, it used to seems so slow.

Now I’m bandaging skinned knees, paying mortgages.

I see my teen swirling in front of a mirror.

I find myself looking at the obituaries in the paper.

I notice a little gray in my husbands hair.

Graduations, weddings, then accidents, surgeries,

my back hurts when I garden all day, the house needs repair.

I cry at the tombstones of my parents,

suddenly becoming aware of my own age,

Life, speeding by at the speed of light.

Computers have replaced the written word.

I feel outdated, like I don’t belong here anymore.

Struggling to keep up, I feel the desperation of loosing my edge.

Yesterday, I was young, had hope, dreams, health.

I remember whirling in the wind beneath the moon,

Oceans waves crashing behind me, the bright lights of town

glowing distantly, calling to me, “Come, live, love!”

Now it is nighttime, winter, cold and bare.

The dreams have been fulfilled or died long ago.

I try to imagine where it all went, how it got away,

A tear rolls down a weathered cheek. I close my eyes once more.


2 Comments

April Challenge

I have been dutifully editing my poem every day this month (except for the two days I was in the hospital)…and want to now simply go on record to say that I’m finding it more and more difficult as the days go on. This isn’t to say that I think my poem is complete. I know that extended editing can result in a really good poem. At the same time I don’t want to edit just for the sake of editing.

I am glad to be spending this kind of time on my poem. If you happen to be following my work on it, you’ll see that some days I make small changes and other days the edits are more significant.

I’m having trouble foreseeing doing this for two more weeks. But, I love a good challenge, so I’ll give it my best shot.


2 Comments

Counting Days

Crescendos toward December sound, like wind
a-whooshing through the fall toward winter’s blast.
All elm tree foliage has come unpinned
and ground is covered in those crisps that last

until the earth’s adorned in gowns of white.
We march to our Thanksgiving, make big plans,
then Christmas shows its colors day and night.
We gather families and our friends, our clans

to celebrate. But what of days between?
What ordinary Tuesday strikes a chord
of music, makes us polish to a sheen
our house? We are the lady and the lord

of this, our manor, and we do not wait
for special times. Each one is special, yes,
and so we dust it off and note the date.
A tree, lake, note, a word means more, not less

as time plods on. Or does time race? I hold
the precious close without apology,
for I can feel it. I am getting old.
Please keep the lights bright on my life’s marquee.


I feel nostalgic…

I feel nostalgic,

remembering those days

when everything was childish

because I was a child,

everything seemed so effortless

because I made it so.

I wonder why can’t it be so-

that everything becomes childish and

everything becomes effortless

once again, today.

I wonder why can’t it be so-

I can relive those years once again.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,480 other followers

%d bloggers like this: