Category: Poetry

As the word says, this site consists of poetry, some written by others, but most are mine.

Too Long Gone

With or without my knowledge or permission things change.  It seems I have been on hold and life has happened all around me.  Today I find myself residing in an RV in Arizona with my husband and dog and loving it.  Who moves to Arizona from Washington in May?   I thought all these years I couldn’t take the heat and have found out it’s the humidity that gets to me.

There is so much more I could say.  Many events have occurred in the last couple of years worthy of remark and remembrance.  But I think I am starting at the shallow end to return to blogging.

 

Years come and go and so do one’s friends.                                                                                      Life has its chapters, its beginnings and ends.                                                                                Though I still love you we both have moved on.                                                                            I hope we will never be too long gone.

Talking Aloud in Silence

There is nobody here yet to hold and love,

Alone in this room I wait.              

For company who understands my hurt, 

Knows how to both love and hate.
We hurt for our losses and that for ourselves
We feel pain for each other’s grief.

We hold on to love we try to find hope

We hunger for peace and relief.
Alone in this silence I wait for return

Of the love and the hope and good dreams.

I know we’ll be happy together again

In a future as good as it seems.

In A  Night

Toss and turn too hot too cold 

Breathing drawn in, sorrows untold

Seeking solace, ease, peace, sleep. 

Dreams arrive at last, burning deep

Demanding the treasures be a sacrifice

On an alter crafted of man’s every vice.

In reaching for the clouds I begin to fly

Rising higher without will into a brilliant sky, 

Finding more like me in the clouds nearby.

Below are many sleepers seeking solace and peace

I whisper to them  and their fears they release.  

Ease and comfort I breathe into their sleep

As I drift back to earth I find that I weep

For joy in the freedom the dreaming has brought

And the comfort and solace bruised soul had sought.
Denise A. Carr    March, 2016

Ghosts of Christmases Past

Magic, wonder, excitement, feet thunder
Down the hall, you hear me call,
Hey, get up! It’s Christmas!

As I grow tallish I get to polish
The forks and spoons, sing Christmas tunes
Help set the table now that I’m able.
Hey, come eat! It’s Christmas!

Later in high school trying to be cool
Caroling in snow. Does anyone know?
Hope they don’t hear me, please don’t come near me
I’m out here to sing! It’s Christmas!

Magic, wonder, excitement, feet thunder
Down the hall, I hear you call,
Hey, get up! It’s Christmas!

July

Bright sun blinds and reveals                                                                                                              At one and the same time                                                                                                              Glaring off a windshield                                                                                                                    Coloring a rose sublime.

Hear the sounds in the heat                                                                                                                  Of children laughing, playing                                                                                                                 Of water cooling and flowing,                                                                                                            Green garden hoses spraying.

Breathe in the blooming flowers                                                                                                        Smell the newly mown lawn.                                                                                                               Taste and see and feel                                                                                                                         Before July is gone.

Ball games, picnics, and fireworks,                                                                                                    Lakes and pools and streams                                                                                                              Willows swaying in the wind                                                                                                           And dancing in our dreams.

The hot and restless nights                                                                                                        Whirring from the fan                                                                                                                  Smiling at the memories                                                                                                                     Of when this day began.

July

 

Denise A. Carr

Standing in My Mind

Today I sit leaning back in the recliner
Dreaming of strength
Remembering better times
And seeing myself through the eyes of others.

In my mind I see me young and slim,
Independent, intelligent, indestructible.
Was I living in my mind even then?

Was it ever true? Was I shy,
Needy and broken?
Did I accomplish, did I grow,
Or did I hide inside of myself?

Ah, well, that is the past,
This is now and now is the time
I am standing strong and tall
In my mind.

Fickle Muse

Dreaming awake turning one way repeat
Feeling the blanket, sweat on the sheet
Hear the voice of the Muse soft and so sweet
Promising words with pattern and beat.

Gentle wind blowing ideas to me
Longing for freedom, longing to be
The message, the message that others will see
As I follow the vision entrusted to me.

Line after story run through the night
Muse breathes to my soul until new day’s light
Hope filling heart pouring from a great height
Fingers are poised yet the page remains white.

Faithless Muse taking those thoughts far away
Finding a new soul with which to play
Again the filling, then taking away
Leaving sorrow behind to fill the new day.

Cruel Muse.

Another Day Another Daydream

I dream. I eat. I breathe. I hope and pray. I love. And I daydream.

Looking out the window I see the clouds which hold the triggers for the dreams, past present and future. I can drift backwards through the seasons and the years to find the seeds of today in those occurrences which through good or bad times shaped and molded the person I was becoming. Moving ahead through decades I recall highlights and lowlights and some no-lights. It’s odd to see the dreams I had as my younger self who still lives within me, pushing, pressing, trying to get out and have another chance. She looks at me with hurt in her eyes, silently blaming me for missing out on all of her dreams, as though I asked for us to be struck down.

Now I am back here and now. The clouds still float by changing shape with every wind, winds too harsh for me but producing gentle beauty. But dreams are not daydreams, and the past yields lessons and memories, not daydreams.

I watch the clouds and travel with them to another land. I’m a star, an actress of untold depth who is not diminished by aging but rather increases in making her audiences believe in her character. The imaginings travel the world, doing good works, changing the face of the future through her passion and eloquence.

I float above the clouds as I run to a marathon, feeling the breeze on my sweating body and welcoming its cooling touch as I press on toward the finish line with one hand pressed to my chest, feeling the pounding of my heart and the rasping breath against my ribs. I win.

I remember watching ballet, then beginning to dance alone or with a partner. Again I have the sensation of flying, and using every muscle to its maximum. Exhilarated,  I then choreograph and star in a great ballet. I take my bows, accepting the adulation of the crowds as my due.

A moment later the dream is lost as my eyes catch sight of a hawk soaring above, looking for prey. How down to earth can it get? Just like that the real world is back. It’s time to work my way up from the recliner and into the bedroom to lie down and sleep. Perhaps I will dream of flying, or singing, or riding, or being young and clever with lost friends and family at hand. Maybe…

PCDD

It was the day after Christmas and all through my house

Not a creature was stirring, not a cat, not a mouse

The dog was all settled with me in my bed

And visions of family danced in my head.

The house had been full, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day,

Adults sharing gifts, children at play.

Then came the next day, all quiet and calm

Which to my twitchy soul should have been a great balm.

Instead a great weight fell, rimmed with a dark border

I call the Post Christmas Depressive Disorder.

I’m better today, though, I’m pleased to say.

Two beautiful children are coming to stay.

TV and popcorn and a kiss and a hug

We snuggle together like bugs in rug.

And then tomorrow all through this bright house

Adults and children, maybe even a mouse.

After they leave there returns the dark border

I call the Post Children Depressive Disorder.

Denise A. Carr

Voices in the Night

The night is filled with sorrow and grief
For so is the world, friends and strangers,

Never a lack of tragedies to hear in the dark.                                                                                      Sit up and worry in the nearly black room,

Hoping morning will be here very soon                                                                                        And the lightening day will drive away
The memories of voices in the night

Telling us to share the load.                                                                                                        Telling us how to help.

Ah, now they are gone.