I’ve always loved Otis Redding. I think Marc does a fantastic job on a timeless plea for love.
skin toned pink
upon yours, wishful thinking
oh, how you must feel
This 5 day song challenge is a nice addition to my poetry, Holly, thanks again for having me join along.
*A few of you have mentioned being up for the challenge. Consider yourself chosen. Go for it!
You placed me in danger
Thirteen separate times
In two hours
Don’t tell me that you love me
When I know that’s a lie
I remember promising you guys that I would post a picture of the doodlings I sketch out, while waiting for words to arrive on paper. An epiphany occurred after I’d drawn this picture, then a poem created from a memory.
The picture is meaningless, well not the thirteen heavily drawn red tallies, it seems, which have permanently indented the next few pages of my tablet, but overall it’s just doodles.
What I’ve realized is that actions DO speak louder than words. Yes, this message has been heard a million times before, I know. Now, the missive is understood. Finally. Lack of protection will never translate into love. Not for me, anyway.
Silence is the result of what you’ve requested
Requested and desired are two different directions
Directions are explicit commands I submit to freely
Freely is how I materialize for you in your dreams
Dreams are the light during my darkest time
Time is all I’ve ever asked for, bashfully
Bashfully is the only way I know how
How is the question that will continue a circle
Circle is the shape for the ring of promise
Promise is the agreement of pinky fingers
Fingers grasp tightly, an act of true love
Love rarely survives the quiescient sound of being dismissed
Dismissed hearts will never answer to silence
I enjoyed trying this style originally found on Benjamin’s blog: The Breakdown of Taboo – Leftovers. Thank you, Benjamin, for the permission to give this poetic form a try.
As if my clouds had warned specifically
Life does not end in a single breath
Have faith in Him and honor His test
Sit still, believe miracles happen daily
Update on Dad:
Initially, Dad refused treatment, further testing and our pleading words. The idea of him not taking the opportunity to try medical advancement was devastating news. Who makes that choice? A stubborn cowboy who doesn’t believe in doctors, I guess, maybe, someone unsure of what the fight will look like, and I can easily identify with that fear.
Eventually, Dad agreed to take the next step and was transferred to another hospital in Denver. I like to think he knew how much his refusal of treatment was affecting us and wanted to ease our pain, but I believe the support of my three siblings being with him through each step gave him the confidence to move forward. I understand, there’s a process that goes along with hearing such terrifying news. We tried to be patient.
Dad is surprisingly well, and it has been determined that he has less than Stage 1 Lukhemia. His body has reacted to the initial procedures and medication and the blood results are amazing. They are recommending that he do six months of chemo just to be sure all has been eliminated. Dad has agreed to do chemo twice a month and it’s a very low dose of treatment. This means no loss of hair or sickness, so business as usual for him, eventually.
Dad is home from the hospital and the pneumonia that put him there, due to low immunity, is under control. Had he not come down with pneumonia we would’ve gone much longer without knowing that he had Lukhemia, as it had been just short of 50 years since he’d seen a doctor for anything. Early detection saved his life. Our family is blessed.
So now…me and why I haven’t been around or writing. The highs and lows of it all had me so confused. I roll my eyes at myself, as I consider Dad’s emotions. I think shifting from horrid news to elation so quickly had me shocked. Frozen, even. I took a few days to sort my feelings. How does this happen? Who cheats cancer like this? A blessing I cannot even wrap my head around, yet I know it is all God’s doing. Prayers were answered. We continue to pray that the chemo rids his body of anything that remains.
I think I’m back…maybe. Smiles.
The support I’ve received from y’all is humbling. Last week’s poetry was full of beautiful and loving comments and I thank you. Your emails proving your devotion continue to make me smile. Thank you…
The Greatest Man poem was the first poem I wrote after getting the call from my sister last Friday afternoon. It is now one of my personal favorites, as my Dad has proven to me that he continues to be my hero. I’m thankful that he realizes how much I do need him and how relieved we are that he is willing to fight cancer for himself and his family.
The Giggling Siblings poem was the night before some major tests. (defining the stage) I love looking back at that snapshot of our family pulling together and smiling. (Even if they were making fun of me…) All of us fearful of the news we’d eventually receive as the results came through in the days to follow, yet calmly waiting and diverting that fear with some giggling.
The result is a stronger bond, which none of us thought possible, as we’re already each other’s best friends. Maybe now, however, Dad understands how deep our love for him goes.
Divided by who she is and must be,
Complicated beauty, spinning.
Broken trust, yet willing to thrive,
Found from somewhere deep inside.
Torn between suffocating her color,
And accepting that which brings her life.
A painted essence you can see,
One she’ll deny continously.
You’ll want to rescue her, catch her,
Have the hand she leans towards first.
Know she’s twirling effortlessly,
Used to living sublimely,
Dedicated to using what’s hers,
Independence, her curse.