Friday, July 30, 2010

The Sun and the Moon

The orange sun
was floating
like a big balloon
on the horizon
when I went out
for a walk
one morning
last week
in Florida.

I was there to visit
my mom in assisted
living. She knew me,
of course, since I am
part of her past,
but none of our conversation
made sense.
It was sad for me
but she was happy
wherever she had gone
to while I was there.

So, I got up early
to walk my sadness
away. I started
up the street,
looked up,
and saw the almost
full moon bright
in the blue sky,
hanging in there
until the last
possible moment.

I thought about Kylie
and how she’d asked me
when she’d get to see
her Nana Nana again.
When I said I didn’t know,
she said simply,
“I miss her.”

I miss her, too, Kiki.

The sun warmed
my back
like Kylie time
warms my heart.

I walked on.
The moon got fainter
and fainter.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

3WW: Bait, Jump, Victim

Swallowed the bait whole
then jumped around for a while~
another victim
Another victim
swallows the alluring bait.
The fish jump. I jump.
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To see a picture of the actual fish he caught yesterday click here.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Poetry Train: The Red, White, and Blue

I wrote this one three years ago yesterday on Independence Day.
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The Red, White and Blue

Today, I'll hop
on my red bicycle
and ride to the beach.

I'll sit under a blue sky
and watch the white
clouds play tag.

I'll listen to kids
laugh as they run around
their parents.

I'll read a few poems
and maybe write
one of my own

on plain white paper.
I'll stretch out
on my blue towel

and stay as long
as I want.
Later, I'll join friends

for a barbeque
and dip red lobster
meat into melted butter.

Then, in the navy blue
twilight I'll listen
to the pop gun

of fireworks and see
freedom written out
in multi-colored calligraphy.

Sunday Scribblings: Me

Memories Underfoot

Ocean Park Beach
at low tide
provides a firm
surface to walk on.

My steps
leave only shallow
little bits
of myself
that I shed
as I walk.

The worry
over money
is way back
at the beginning
because it is really
so insignificant.

That little spat
with Gary
is back there
into the sand.

School stress is left
a couple steps
so that now
the indentations
are empty
just filled
with promises
and hope.

I breathe
salty air,
hold it in
my lungs,
every last
of it.
Linda's Poems