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Back Page--Archives 05/22/2020

Updated: Jun 2

The Chosen Few

Becca


Wandering through the stacks, she spies

Dad's smoke rings encircle and into her mind delve

The smell lingers, heavy, burning her eyes

Her old favorites leaning on the dusty shelves


Dad's smoke rings encircle and into her mind delve

Why have they kept these chosen few?

Her old favorites leaning on the dusty shelves

They appear to be worshipers sitting in a pew


Why have they kept these chosen few?

They spoke her language when they hummed

They appear to be worshipers in a pew

Keeping rhythm with the heartbeat of a drum


They spoke her language when they hummed

The smoke in her mind and in her nose

Keeping rhythm with the heartbeat of a drum

She now recalls almost every line of prose


The smoke in her mind and in her nose

Air heavy with the ones who were lost

She now recalls almost every line of prose

Rupert Brooke, Isaac Rosenberg, not Robert Frost


Air heavy with the ones who were lost

Their brief remembrances of wars fought

Rupert Brooke, Isaac Rosenberg, not Robert Frost

She read them in the papers, their books never bought


Their brief remembrances of wars fought

Stories never to be shared or recalled

She read them in the papers, their books never bought

The demise of the ones whose writing stalled


Stories never to be shared or recalled

They only kept the words they spoke

The demise of the ones whose writing stalled

In Dad's pipe went up in smoke


In Dad's pipe and lingering in the musty air

The words they keep are only the words spoken here



Fate Of The Gods

Becca

Your Hard exterior meant to keep you alone;

Are you awaiting a piercing?

Solid facade, a deception full of holes;

Fissures with your pouring Spirit, sing

Always a fool for the confusing love;

Sex, affection, animosity, the pendulum swing

O! How I falter, stumbling over the pitfalls;

My emotions cut deep, my heart left aching

Carved of a solid, smooth piece, yet open;

Allowing the flow of your gifts, bathing

Perturbation, chaos, the lingering;

Disorientation, new knowledge tangling

Our infatuation so strong, the wrath;

Hate, passion, the apple found enchanting

Held in each other's arms, temptation;

First risk, first child, innocence and yearning

Our child, another fool too naive to realize;

The bewilderment of life, the thrill of falling

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