A child spoken to Poetic Bloomings

 A Question

 

I don’t know why

my oldest sister said it,

what I did

at about eight years old

or what the situation was.

But she said it.

“Where is your common sense?”

 

Ever after, those words haunted me

and I felt I was destined

to bumble through life

while my common sense

had hidden itself

or packed up and went on vacation.

 

Perhaps that’s why

I’m so hard on myself

when I do dumb things.

But I’m learning

that, like my writing muse,

common sense comes and goes.

It’s part of the human condition.

Forgetful Poetic Asides

 New Normal

 

Having a nightmare I wish I’d wake up from

Memory loss of my thirty-seven-year-old son

Phone calls, emails and texts all day long

And no one is able to tell us what’s wrong

He’s home now, new normal: Day One

 

His mind’s a bit clearer all the day through.

He remembers it’s January, he lost his job, too

He repeats himself and asks the same questions

He guides his day by his sister’s suggestions

One day at a time, new normal: Day Two

 

When he wakes up it’s not clear to see

He has to sort dreams from reality

Sis set an appointment for his doctor

She’s strong and not letting this rock her

Moving forward, new normal: Day Three

 

My son woke up Sunday morning with about three months of memory loss and spent the morning in ER. When the prompt was “forgetful” I couldn’t think of anything else to write about! My son and daughter are both single and live together in my daughter’s house about an eight-hours drive from me. We just had a foot of snow so we’re exchanging a lot of phone calls and texts, working through this. There’s no official diagnosis yet.

Dream Poetic Bloomings

 

Dream Day

 

What would a dream day be like? I’d get up at six and pray, read the Bible and sing a hymn. I’d then do some stretches and dancing out on my porch. Next Hubby and I would have breakfast and share our plans for the day. I’d do dishes while he’s finishing up. Then I’d do some writing, alternating with housework. Then we’d have lunch and do dishes. Then my friends and I would pack up our food for a cookout and our foldable kayaks and spend the afternoon at the lake. We’d barbeque for supper and then head home. I’d relax, with hubby on our back porch then take a ride on my Ebike all over town. Then I’d come home in time for evening Bible Study. I would lead the singing with my ukulele and we’d read the Bible, share insights and pray for each other. After they left, I’d relax by painting. And then I’d read for a bit or watch an educational video then go to bed around 11, dreaming about our next trip out of the country.

 

Dreams may seem far-fetched

Like a huge jig-saw puzzle

Pic forms, piece by piece

Dream Poetic Bloomings

 

New Normal

 

Having a nightmare I wish I’d wake up from

Memory loss of my thirty-seven year old son

Phone calls, emails and texts all day long

And no one is able to tell us what’s wrong

He’s home now, new normal: Day One

delay

 

Procrastination’s an ill pursuit

Just give it the good ol’ boot

You sit there and wait

But why hesitate?

You must start, to see the fruit

Delay Poetic Asides

 

Plane’s delayed

Nerves are frayed

Missed connection’s a fear

Don’t cry or shout

It will all work out

At least within the year  

Delay Englynion

 

Lord, return and don’t delay

Yes, come quickly this we pray

We look forward to that day