Tag Archives: water

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Don’t come back

I wish you weren’t coming back. Ever.
I don’t want to see you here again.
I drive down to the beach thinking never.
If your car was there, I would park you in.
That makes me laugh out loud at how absurd
my stupid heart is longing all the time.
Hurt and vengeful, all those words
for a heart in tears. You won’t change your mind.
My pessimistic side growls I don’t care.
And thinks up gruesome ends for you.
It’s sad that you’ll be torn up by a bear
or eaten by Sasquatch in a stew.
Just think, at last you’ve managed to be free
From one thing always. It happens to be me.

Sonnet 13

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pessimist.

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Rules

On each new site we read the rules anew.
Check that we are not a bot and real.
Check that we will not link to porn or views
traumatic, that we promise not to steal
others work or game or avatar. Why is it
that in each site of any and every ilk,
someone has to watch and delete the bit
where the rules are broken, spilling milk.
The truth is we’ve learned how to behave
or rebel in neglected or violent homes.
I wonder if humans should be saved
when again the trolls must be stoned.
We think that humans should dwell on Mars.
We’ll need rules and moderators in the stars.

Sonnet 12

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Preparedness

I am at a friend’s: she doesn’t have matches.
I am at a friend’s: she doesn’t have bandaids.
“You need a tsunami kit,” I say. “Now!”

My daughter made a tsunami kit for college
with a life straw, an emergency blanket, ace wraps
and bandaids. A leatherwoman for tools with a knife.

Watching after the earthquake, it’s the crowbar I think of.
It is in my back yard, under the apple tree.
If we have our earthquake, I should be able to find it.

Or if I can’t, you know where it is now.
Please, take it to help someone
if I can’t.

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Spring?

It was cloudy most of the day yesterday. I went to the beach when the light was fading, so at 3 pm, and the sun was peering underneath the edge of the clouds. Groundhog Day, so does that mean we will only have five more weeks of winter? Or four? Or mixed with the sun peeking through?

I found my first moss agate, too.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: optimist.

This is not a short watch, but they are where I go when I am worrying.

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I think of you as dead

I think of you as dead.
Love is not dead, not mine for you.
This is not respectful to those
truly dead. Yet you are dead to me
in that you lie and say forever.
Torched and ashes, now it’s never
and the real you is dead to me.
I love the you that made a different choice,
that loved me back. He holds my hand
and walks with me and laughs with me
daily. And there is nothing you can do
to stop him and me. If anyone asks, you are dead
to me, dead forever, and I will love
whoever my heart chooses, for all time.

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I found the chalcedony nodule on Indian Island yesterday.

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Small hopes

Alone today and quiet, happy with it
“I think you write more than I do, even though
I write for a living.” “I love it,” I say.
It is my daily quiet writing time: four am.
No one is here but me and the cats
and they just ate and are grooming each other.
Just me and paper and pens and computer
still dark out and cold. I check to see if it is clear.
No, not today. I hope to see the green comet.
Little hopes, small ones, quiet ones, that do not
bother anyone. No one is jealous or wants to take them
away. I hold them warm in my heart, Beloved,
and do not think of love.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: temptation.