We’re all trying to get back home, even if we have never been there before.
Rob Merritt
11/5/11
Monthly Archives: April 2015
Distant Shores: a Poem about Our Hearts and Memory
I.
Distant shores elongate in a pose
a clock stands still
as decades from long ago sweep across my face
a wrinkle in the corner of my eye holds a memory
II.
people from our past creep in like marbles on a tile floor
spreading across our hearts like a surf wide angle lens
a frame circles a dot in a tiny box in a room from far away
the lens captures the crevices that donate a sweeping song
over the senses to someone’s soul
deep and uncovered
a blanket lifted to the moon
underneath are the hearts that beat
from this shore to the next
III.
the people we let in and out of our tiny boxed hearts
are bigger than the space we allow them to exist in
so they manifest into giant sequoias
that boast ballerinas
dancing in time cloaks from yesteryear
there they dance
and twirl into magnificent muses
tucked in our tiny pocketed hearts
bleeding onto the distant shores with their surf wide angle lens
Cliffs of Dover in Dover, England — Summer 2014
I wrote “Distant Shores” on MySpace. Is MySpace even in business anymore? Thought I would share it since it is National Poetry Month.
bleeding
a frame
Red Socked Toes
Death moves
slowing in
a nursing home
creeping softly
with red
socked toes
jutting
out of opened
doors
Hunched over
in wheelchairs
waiting for
something
death could
be more exciting
than the actual wait
sitting here with Betty
and a nameless
old lady
I asked her
her name
her matted
pink gums
holding in
her smile.
I wrote this poem May 28, 2011 while I was visiting my mother in a nursing home. She has since passed away. I found a notebook titled “Light” and decided to share since it’s National Poetry Month.