Haibun Monday – the only thing we have to fear…

Today I am hosting the Haibun Monday prompt. It is on fear – fear of things, fear of being out of control, fear of losing loved ones, fear – primal and raw. Come join us today.

My Mother’s Daughter
Several years ago my mother began displaying erratic and irresponsible behavior. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Since then it has been a downhill road – she has forgotten how to walk, often forgets she has not eaten, has become incontinent. It is heartbreaking. Especially as my mother varies between paranoid, hostile towards me, and loving mother. My husband and I have no children. We did not get married until I was 49 and he was 39. It is just us and his mother who is starting to go somewhat erratic herself.

I am afraid when I look at my mother that one day, I will be sitting in a wheelchair, in her place. I will have no one to know or to care about me except maybe a nursing home. I kept her at home as long as I could but then one day, it became evident I could no longer care for my mother. Then I was afraid of the nursing home in which to place her. But praise God, she was sent from being in the hospital to a small nursing home with only 90 beds and ten minutes from our home. I can visit her often and have formed, during her stay there since January, friendships among the staff and caring relationships with some of the residents. But I am still afraid. My past fears of clowns, losing loved ones, spiders – pales in comparison to this new fear of Alzheimers. Alzheimer’s – one of the scariest words in the human vocabulary.

spring sky turns black – storm
begins and wind blows strong – hawk
flies against the wind

dVerse Poets Pub: Open Link Night 193

Today is Open Link night over at dVerse Poets Pub and people can submit any one poem of their choice. This week, Bjorn, “head” of dVerse posted a prompt on another poetry site. He is a physicist and so wanted people to write about time stretched, space time continuum, etc. How time changes. My mother is now in a skilled nursing facility. Time moves differently in that sterile place. a nothing event to us is an occasion to the elderly who live in the facility. Come join us at dVerse for the varied poems submitted this week: https://dversepoets.com/2017/04/06/openlinknight-193/

Bingo Winner
time stretches l.o.n.n.n.g
like taffy being pulled between
two people
time moves s.l.o.o.o.w.l.y
like a tortoise trying to cross
a busy highway
Listen – you can hear the seconds
the old woman makes a ceremony
of choosing a prize from the cart –
she’s just gotten bingo!
will she choose the pale green
and pink decorated cake
or the green plush bunny
or the box of tissues?
the younger woman holding the prize basket
sighs and the old woman woman’s
hand wavers between the bunny and the cake.
at last she chooses the cake.
t.i.i.i.c.k. t.o.o.o.c.k…

dVerse Poets Pub – Open Link #185

Grace is hosting our Open Link Night, #185!!!!   Here is my submission for that.  Enjoy.  and please visit us at dVerse Poets Pub to read and/or submit your own poem.  https://dversepoets.com/2016/12/01/openlinknight-185/

between the cold of
late autumn and the warmth of
early winter = leaves
cling to the branches – a crow
caws and no bird answers

Autumn is Fall(ing) to Sleep

We have a guest pubtender, De Jackson, at d’Verse today who is prompting us to write with the enjambment poetic device. Please come visit and read all the varied submissions for this interesting device.  http://dversepoets.com/2015/11/05/lets-get-jambin/

Autumn is Fall(ing) to Sleep
Autumn is fall(ing) to sleep and
the creek at the foot of the hill is not
the gurgling child it was. Slower now
and grey around the edges. Stones left
behind from summer flooding dusty
and sad at being left behind. The frogs
have vanished and dragonflies
with-drawn to their secret blue cave in
the sky. Autumn is fall(ing) to sleep
withered sere leaves drift aimlessly
in the occasional breeze. (Hum)ming birds
have flown farther south to the land of eternal
jewels – treasures of another age –
placed carefully
in a museum of warmth and sun.
One night soon the stars will freeze in
the blackness of winter. Frosted morning grass
will crunch under my feet as I won(wan)der
shoulders hunched hands in my pockets
knowing going on without you is like
trying to thread a needle with one hand
with frozen fingers. Autumn is fall(ing) to sleep.

withered leaf

Monday Musings – The Remains

dried rose

There is always something leftover.
The snow and ice have melted
And soaked into the earth and run down into the creek.
But the azaleas are bent from their weight,
Some branches snapped from the tulip poplar
And lie discarded in the yard.

There is always something that remains.
Coffee cups with a slight residue
In the bottom or a ring marking
The undrunk coffee and left in
The sink overnight.

There is always something unwanted.
Chicken bones, a bit of salad,
A smear of egg on a plate,
The faded teeshirt from last summer –
Worn with so many smiles
And almost like a talisman – at the time.

There is something always that remains.
And though you’ve washed that pink set of sheets
A thousand times, when you make the bed with them,
Your eyes go to that spot,
The semen left behind to dry and crust
After he said he wanted to branch out
And find others more suited to his
Supreme wonderfulness.

There is always something discarded.
The dried rosebuds,
The handwritten notes,
That silly teeshirt he bought
And you wore, almost like a talisman
At the time.

There is always something unused.
Like that beautiful tie
You bought for him the day before he left.
There is always something wasted, unwanted
There is always something remaining,
There is always something discarded.
and this time, it is you.

藤 Wisteria – haiku

White wisteria –
ghosts in the trees weeping with
the misty spring rain.

Doves and Wisteria by Kono Bairei  1844 - 1895

painting by Kono Bairei  1844-1895

夢 Yume


Cherry Petals Fall Like Teardrops

Cherry Petals Fall Like Teardrops (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Black hair, streaked with grey.

Longer, below his shoulders.

Mouth still firm and full.


He said, Little Bird

It is hanami.  Let us

Go and sit and talk.


Pink and white petals

Above us, petals falling

Like teardrops on us.


His eyes full of peace

As he told me how lonely

The years had been.  I


touched my hand to his

cheek and he put his hand on

mine.  I knew his touch well.


We sat under the

Cherry trees and spoke only

Heart to heart, no words.


I closed my eyes and

Tears rained down my face.  Always

He said.  Forever.

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