It takes a seashell
lifted to a landlocked ear
for faith to whisper
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We are not our masks
Nor the monsters underneath
We are what's between
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Everything starts
To matter less and less and...
Less and less and less.
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The cage I'm in breathes.
My Stockholm syndrome pulsates.
I succumb, shrugging.
Robert J. W.
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despite the distance
I like to think we lock eyes —
midday moon
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A bevy of clocks
and not a one with answers
beyond the moment.
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“Save”
Save
A single flower /
cannot save you, except – /
in contemplation.
.
.
#save #flower #contemplation #photo #poem #poetry #haiku #senryu #oldnorthknoxville #davidebooker #october #sunday #100123 #2023
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headlights loom
and disappear into night
the stars still shine
Stephen Brooke ©2024
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4/6/24
identical long swords
the option to stay
or go
A remixed poem from:
Maas, Sarah J. A Court of Mist and Fury, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2020. P.157.
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The stairs wet from rain
My dad sitting on the couch
A lump on his head
. . .
"Where are you headed?"
Here! I came here to see you
Can't you remember?
. . .
"Where are we going?"
You need a doctor right now
We're on the way there
. . .
He didn't even
Know who the president was
Said "head of lettuce"
. . .
Back over the hill
I'm driving slow but I know
I'll still get there first
. . .
His brain is bleeding
Emergency surgery to
Try and save his life
. . .
Sedation removed
But he hasn't woken up
Hard bebop playing
. . .
A second brain bleed
A decision involving
Quality of life
. . .
Family dinner
The food is good except that
Dad's in a coma
. . .
Life support removed
I can't watch him breathe like this
Oxygen starvation
. . .
My face wet from tears
Me standing next to my bed
A lump in my throat
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We are infinite
when moonlight floods the darkness
our spirits embrace
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Over blasted fields
Black birds scatter asudden
A lone hand rises
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deep shadow
I figure whalers are haunted
by dead gods
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