Grief (Page 3)

Watching you breathe (a poem)

It’s quiet.
Except for nurses
in the hallway.

[continue]. . .

A white, painted brick wall, with handprints, smears, and splatters of red across it.

Bleeding Out (a poem)

Truth runs red.
Flowing
everywhere.

It cannot be stopped,
held back,
contained.

[continue]. . .

A pink, stuffed bunny, with one ear bent backward at the halfway point, and a brown teddy bear, with a red ribbon around its neck, sit side by side on a wet road in pouring rain. The bear's arm is around the bunny's back, and its head is tilted toward the bunny, as if showing compassion and care.

never (a poem)

there are days, seasons
when i am by myself
lost and overwhelmed

[continue]. . .

A dense, green forest with a grove of beech trees and lush undergrowth.

ever lost (a poem)

deep in the green
buried amongst the trees
no discernible path
no place to bed down
I struggle to find
my way

[continue]. . .

The US Capitol building dome is aglow as the sun sets for the evening. The blue sky is partially covered by purple and pink clouds colored by the setting sun. Shot from the water across from the halls of Congress.

It’s a con job (a consistent poem)

A
confirmation
of
CONTROL.

Congratulations
to the
CONSTRUCT.

TW: Politics

[continue]. . .

A woman in mourning, in a black coat and dress, with a black umbrella and a single red flower in her hand, faces a cemetery in Fall.

Shadows and Rain (a poem)

Beneath the black umbrella tops
their hearts beat in time
with each and every falling drop
of rain against the pine.

TW: Death

[continue]. . .

A stork and gulls sit atop the rubbish in a public landfill.

A Mother’s Day (a poem)

I live on land that is not mine.
Her people, long departed,
left not a trace.
Their legacy, a world in balance.

I am not like them.

[continue]. . .

A bearded young man with long hair, tan pants and lined coat, sits on a brick-paved walkway, holding a blue and white striped paper cup, and a cardboard sign with the inscription 'Homeless and hungry.' People in winter clothing walk past.

“It is what it is.” (thoughts)

“It is what it is” applies to:

…a rainy day.
…when you forget the lyrics to a song.
…getting a hole in your sock.

[continue]. . .

An empty school hallway with rust-colored, painted student lockers and yellow-beige walls. A single tan, covered garbage can sits aside one of the walls.

Another… (an anaphoric poem)

Another family dinner.
Another empty room.
Another grieving parent.
Another lost too soon.

[continue]. . .

The poem "We have lots of time" consists of the title, a byline, and a single period as the poem itself.

We have lots of time (a poem)

I was at the hospital with my dad. He was there to be tested for an issue related to what took my mom’s life a few years before. While waiting, an idea for a poem hit me.

[continue]. . .

Grief (Page 3)

Watching you breathe (a poem)

Bleeding Out (a poem)

never (a poem)

Shadows and Rain (a poem)

“It is what it is.” (thoughts)

We have lots of time (a poem)

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