a poem in my pocket

Linda challenges us with paint chip poetry…I used them all for the fun of it!

In breezy conversation
at the Indigo Cafe
our waiter recommends
the special for today:
tostados rancheritos
smothered with
habanero sauce
“I’ll try it,” I responded
not thinking of the cost.

My hot tongue pricks
with pins and needles
my gut it churns to mud
consciousness is quicksand
I fall to floor with thud
my friend now questions waiter
how four-star menu rates
We fear those rancheritos
may lead to pearly gates!

grief is loud bawling

wide-eyed cow calls to dead calf

udder full of milk

death is pond ripple

concentric rings pulsing out

mark place of impact

grief is rogue sea wave

turbulence serges higher

wipe-out on beach

death is empty egg

hope’s promise of life deferred

only shell remains

grief is thick blind slug

vulnerable on mud path

unaware it’s stuck

I write these haiku one week after my father’s funeral.

I.

death is squared
concrete vault
heavy, cold, uncaring

grief is round
worn river stone
smooth, comforting

to carry inside
your pocket until it
grows warm, familiar

take it out,
gently turn over
in hands to examine

II.

death is sharply
broken, black umbrella
ruined beyond repair

grief is softly
falling rain shower
watering the garden

you stay out
in the weather
exposed to droplets

look up at
grey skies with
blurred vision, wet face

I’ve given my body

to my children as

a living inheritance

of primal sustenance

vital to ensure their

childhood survival;

for life education and

milestone celebration.

A woman’s body

amazes, astounds

envelopes, nurtures,

stretches elastic

grows softly round

with love surrounds

heartbeat pounds.

They left their marks

indelible, incredible

creases, sags, bags

every gray hair is

strand of costly

(and mostly, yes)

sweet memories

rooted in the heart.

Linking to Grace’s prompt to write “body” poems at dVerse poets pub today…