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Suffer Unto Me - photo by Wild Thing

Suffer Unto Me – photo by Wild Thing

Weary he listens
One by one
They come
Seeking absolution

Justifying
The behavior
Hoping this time
Instead of forgiveness
They hear
They did right

Shocked by
Belief in
Their own
Moral superiority
He must guide
In some cases
Yes, admonish them

The sins
Committed
In the name of GOD
Chills his heart

He quakes
With anger
Do they not listen
Each week
To sermons given
Meant to teach
The way

Righteously
He questions
Do they even
Tell truths
Or do they
Withhold deeper sins

Why bother
At all
They will only
Commit their sins
Again, after piously
Listening to gospel
Taking communion

In fury
He delivers
Harsh penance
Saying
“Go and sin no more.”
Knowing they will

He waits
In silence
His anger ebbs
He leaves

Head bowed
He kneels
He crosses himself
“Bless me Father
For I have sinned . . .”

Wild Thing ©2017

Stolen Moments

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Sunset in Mist – photo by Wild Thing

Beautiful door
Only opened
As they arrived
For those
Stolen moments

No day
Would pass
They would meet
To talk … touch
Whisper of
Love and promise

Then . . .
Darkness came
He disappeared

Every day
She faithfully came
The door
Remained locked
She sat by the door . . . waited

She dreamed
Of the door
Always open
They were always
There . . . together

Each doing
Their own thing
Side by side
In happiness

Brushing past
Each other
With smiles
Sharing the day
Quiet nights
Passion filled

A dream
That will never
Come to be
And so, she waits
By the door

Wild Thing ©2017

Written for Prompt 2.15
Writing Rebels

Moonlight Skate

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Frozen Moon – photo by Wild Thing

Warm old truck
5 years old
“Where are we
going Daddy?”
“You’ll see.”

Rough road
Lots of bumps
She giggles
When she flies
Off her seat

Deep in the swamp
Large bag
On his shoulder
Short walk
Narrow path

Under moonlit sky
Snow glistens
On a pond
Blue square
Empty of snow

Deadfall
nature’s bench
Carefully stacked
Just offshore
Bonfire wood

In the bag
Skates!
His old ones
New white
Double blade
Ones for her

Hand in hand
He guides her
Teaches her
Until sure
She can skate
On her own

Wild Thing ©2017

Written for Prompt 2.21
Writing Rebels

 

Promises*

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Autumn Burdock – photo by Wild Thing

A promise given
Received
With joy
Gently placed
In a basket
To be savored
Until its arrival
With expectation
Hopeful days
Pass
It never comes

Another promise
Arrives
In the basket
It goes
Believing again
Only to see
It curls up
Like the other

Soon the basket
Fills with
Withered promises
It’s put away
With the pain
Of being forgotten

More promises
Arrive
Like butterflies
Beautiful
Then flutter away

Leaving behind
Wistful
Knowledge
That it will
Never happen
Which is
Better than
Expectation
Unfulfilled

Thin layer of dust
Burying its pain

Wild Thing ©2017

*This poem was written for the Prompt 2.17 for the Writing Rebels.
It must suck to have promises made that are never kept. I mean we all know what it’s like, but to be an entire race of people? I think of Standing rock … being Black … Hispanic … all the broken promises made to them & then I am ashamed to bemoan any that have been broken to me. Anyway, I tried to capture that feeling & don’t think I came very close to it … but for what it’s worth. This was my attempt.

The Thieves of Hearts

annies-kitty

photo by – Annie

*Special Note*
I wrote this for my dear friend Annie who recently lost her beloved little kitty.

They arrive
Unlooked for
Winning you over
With playful ways
To make you laugh

Each unique
In personality
Still sharing the
Feline independence
Grace agility
Curiosity

Some stay a
Lifetime
Then there are
Those chosen few
Who stay for
A season or two

We nurse them
Give a life
Of freedom
Unconditional love
For with them
That’s how it is

Then they go
Feeling their loss
A little deeper
No matter what
We tell ourselves
We ask
Why steal our heart
Only to leave

Little Thieves
Take that gift
To those
Who have left
It helps them wait
Until
They see you again

Wild Thing ©2017

Mad Dance

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A Day in Sunshine – Digital Art by Wild Thing

Candle lit hall
Voices … laughter
Wild music
Playing
Some danced
Others ate

Here
Games of chance
There
Fortunes told
Jugglers … acrobats
Weave in and out

An assault
On the senses
Bright … bold
Glittering
Exotic scents
Roving eyes

Above it all
Upon his throne
The King
With jaded eye
Observes all

Buxom women
Vie
For position
He comments
Giggles with
False modesty
Answer him

As if
From thin air
Gold and
Sapphires with
Rubies and
Amethyst appear
Time stops
Or did it

Dashing men
Attempt
At claiming
The bright treasure
Their success
Denied

Its glitter
Captures the eye
Of the King
He watches
The failures
One by one

He must
Possess this
Treasure

As he walks
With purpose
The crowd opens
A path
Before him
Until he stands
Before this beauty

First attempt
Denied
Angered slightly
Bemused greatly
He waits

The treasure moves
Just a bit
To the right
As if
To go around

The king moves
To block
An odd chess
Game begins
A move here
A block there

The King
Suddenly
With a
Hearty laugh
Grabs the treasure
Claims it
For his own

Looking into
The sapphires
His lips kiss
Ruby ones
Golden hair
In his hands

As the treasure
Yielded
It was a mad
Beautiful thing
And the dance
Had just begun

Wild Thing©2017

Prompt 2.14
Writing Rebels

Nonconformity

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Daffodil Van Goghed – digital art by Wild Thing

I . . . am
A nonconformist
I don’t require
Your affirmation

While valuing
Your opinion
It won’t change
How I live
My life or
See myself

I can’t fit
Into the box
You try to put
Me in
Be what you
Want me to be

Who you think
I should be
The role
I should play
In this life

I do this
Not out of
Disrespect
For you
But because
I respect me

I do this
So we each
Can have our
Space to be
Who we each
Were meant
To be

Wild Thing©2017

Prompt 2.12
Writing Rebels

Earth Healing

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A Moment in Time – photo by Wild Thing

Dense fog
Crows overhead
Break the silence
One leaf falls
Earth’s poetry
Awaits
To heal a soul

Wild Thing ©2017

Written for Prompt 2.13 Writing Outside the Lines

Dark Places

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Darkness – photo by Wild Thing

Shoulders drop
Head down
Dark … cold
Alone

Harsh words
Vibrating
In her head
Hard … loud

Mirrored visage
Blue black eyes
Hideous
Scarred face

Broken glass
Underfoot
Woman’s photo
Strangely familiar

Words again
“Crazy… Nutso”
She’d answer
“I’m not”

Must be true
Why say it
If not
If so …

Penance
Is required

The outside
Must reflect
Ugly inside

Broken glass
In trembling hand

Deep now
Two marks
On each cheek

One for Crazy
Another for
Nutso

Wild Thing©2016

Nineteen

140

Fogged State – photo by Wild Thing

fish fry
proposal
everyone there
said yes
thinking
will end it
in a month
mom pushes
for a date
dad’s business
wiped out
mom fired
sis and brother
still in school
left college
found a job
supported
my family
new house
had to be sold
broke mom’s heart
bought Christmas
boom box
for brother
hope chest
for sister
turned 20
told mom
no wedding
she said
cold feet
shake it off
money already spent
grasped my arm
it hurt
dad called out
now what
mom said
nothing
seamstress
forgot to
take up the hem
kicked my
wedding dress
down the aisle
crying all the way

Wild Thing ©2017