This day, back then, frightening. Light and love of my life, your heart stopped for six interminable minutes. Doctors, family, friends, all tethered you to this earth. I celebrate every day we have together.
Thankful to share life with you.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today we’re to write a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title, that includes the word “light”.
Eleven years ago this morning, George suffered a six-minute cardiac arrest. Because of what I call angels along the way, he is still with us, cognitively 100% okay, healthy and as fun-loving, kind, and wonderful as ever. I am forever grateful – thankful for every day.
I sit gazing. The world around me asleep except for occasional gulls flying overhead. Stillness surrounds me waiting for the sun to rise. This ocean, the morning before, roiled in protest to darkness disappearing. Today it lies calm, smooth as glass. Two sailboats sit atop the water their hulls mirrored reflections, motionless, tranquil, silent in the absence of wind.
Skies stained with thin veneer of pastel pink await the dawn. As sun’s sliver stealthily appears, skies rouge in excited anticipation. Sliver grows to arc, to half-circle, to orb, and I sigh. Thankful for another day.
Photos taken yesterday morning from our deck in Provincetown on Massachusetts’ Cape Cod.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Open Link Night and writers are invited to post any poem of their choosing. Bjorn, our pub tender today, also provides an optional prompt you may choose to use.
ALL are invited to dVerse LIVE on Saturday, September September 14th from 10 to 11 AM New York Time. The link to join with audio and video is embedded here. Come and read one of your poems aloud OR come to just sit in and enjoy! The more the merrier!
Rising sun creates shimmering shine on the ocean’s surface. A lone gull floats illuminated in sun’s path, as waves softly lap the shore.
I sit alone during dawn’s arrival, in awe of what is unfolding. Above me, the sky’s bluing gains brightness. I smile and sigh in contentment, thankful for another day.
Written for NaPoWriMo day 26. The the prompt is to “write a poem that involves alliteration, consonance, and assonance. Alliteration is the repetition of a particular consonant sound at the beginning of multiple words. Consonance is the repetition of consonant sounds elsewhere in multiple words, and assonance is the repetition of vowel sounds.”
Photo from some years back at our beloved Provincetown, on the very tip of Cape Cod. View as seen from our deck on the unit we rent every year for two glorious weeks in September.
sipping chardonnay cold, crisp, oak tinged mysteries celebrating love
once more round the sun older, wizened, holding hands thankful every day
gathering blessings from days past and those to come sun still shines at dawn
Image from Pixabay.com
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Punam asks us to consider wine or whiskey or any beverage, and somehow incorporate that beverage into our poem. Go here for a better explanation of the prompt.
To my readers: Since October 13th, I’ve been going through the “process” of cataract surgery. In the scheme of things, it is a piece of cake. However, I’ve found it difficult to read and work on the computer – hence my participation in dVerse has been limited and I’ve not responded to other posts as I usually do, or to comments on the poems I’ve sporadically posted. I am happy to say, I am coming out on the other side of this process – and the results of the surgery are, to me, miraculous. I see colors in their brightest hues. I see print on my computer that is clear and straight. I look out the window and the world is no longer blurry. I am without glasses for the first time since I was twelve years old and am now half-way through my septuagenarian years. I only wear inexpensive “cheaters”, otherwise known as readers when I want to read or write. All of this to say, age brings cataracts to almost everyone. It is one malady that can truly be reversed. One type of anti-aging procedure that really works. I don’t mind silver hair (a nicer way of saying gray) or wrinkles or crepey skin or the inability to do some of the physical things I used to do in my forties or sixties. But I did mind seeing a blurry world. And that is over! All this to say, I’m back to my writing and back to dVerse!
It’s this day again. It’s come every year since this day nine years ago. An emotionally tough day in this autumnal time of year.
I awaken before dawn. Sleep elusive, memories churning. You cheated death on this day, nine years ago today.
I lie listening to your breath, thankful you are here. Thankful for angels along the way who helped tether you, tether you to earth and me.
This afternoon we will walk meander along the glistening Charles. We’ll scuff leaves with our feet, admire fall’s cacophony of colors and revel in a new day of love.
Photo taken last year along the Charles River in Boston.
We’d been aboard the cruise ship for fifteen days. This, the sixteenth, our last day prior to disembarking in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. Relaxation our goal, we never got off the ship. We simply explored this glorious vessel. Marveled at her sculptures, paintings, photographic art; and her six fine dining rooms, each different in décor. We enjoyed delicious entrées and delectable desserts. Our stateroom had a king-size bed and large bathroom with rain shower and soaking tub.
And then, on this sixteenth day, the Captain’s announcement: There is a raft on our starboard side with sixteen refugees. We will remain near them for approximately three hours until the U.S. Coastguard comes to their aid. We are committed to the safety of everyone at sea. Through binoculars I watched a green rubber raft bobbing in white capped waves. Four oars floundered, trying to propel and steer the raft. Desperate people struggled to survive against the elements.
I’ve read articles, seen news clips, about refugees plodding across and through unforgiving terrain. But nothing compared to seeing this from my cruise ship balcony. The juxta-positioning of my life at that moment, the privileged lives of everyone on the cruise ship, to what was happening before my eyes. Heart-wrenching. It started to drizzle and a rainbow appeared, arcing over the raft. I immediately thought of it as a metaphor for hope. These people, hunched against the wind, shoving four wooden paddles through the teeming ocean, desperate to overcome the insurmountable, seeking a better life, with God knows what going through their minds. And me standing there, so privileged, that I could formulate poetic thoughts and think metaphorically.
fire hydrants gush kids splash, jump in ghetto streets – country club pool soothes
Written for dVerse Haibun Monday. Frank asks us to write something in relation to Thanksgiving or being thankful. We just returned from a Caribbean cruise on Celebrity’s newest ship, the Apex. The ship is stunningly beautiful. On the last day at sea, what I’ve written about in this haibun happened. Watching the refugees, I suddenly understood how privileged I am. I prayed for these poor souls, hoping they survive their treacherous journey. We could only surmise they left Cuba to get to Florida’s shores. Watching them, from a cruise ship balcony, I realized how fortunate and how blessed I am. Thankful for every day. Thankful for freedom. Thankful for a warm bed and food. Privileged to afford a cruise. Humbled to watch this scene unfold. Photos all taken on our cruise.
There is a pain too raw. Too personal to write down. Wrapped in the shrouds of death it came too near, but for angels along the way.
Pain of illness, threat of death, most astute tutors of life. Love every mundane moment, cherish them as a gift. Celebrate every dawn.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Ingrid asks us to consider pain and how we can come out on the other side of it stronger. Photo of dawn from one of our many trips.
Nurses, doctors, attend.
Frenetic patient care,
selfless dedication.
Here. There.
Identical clocks,
hands moving in sync.
But sense of time?
There versus here?
High gear to the extreme.
I live across the street from Massachusetts General Hospital, a major care giver for Covid-19 patients in Boston. Photos taken from our windows. God bless all who are working on the front lines in these challenging times. And may all my readers stay safe and healthy.
Written for day 5, national poetry month. Prompt is given from Imaginary Garden with Toads. We are to write about the intersection of time and space.
lillian the home poet 