When You Least Expect It

Its easy to miss
The steady hiss
Of gases poison-
Us
Grief, Anger, Helplessness
Fill the skin
Till it becomes thin-
ner
Explosion sudden potent
Creates a vacuum
Sucks the air out of
The room,
Her lungs and heart
Escaping barely in-
tact
Return to darkness
And confusion
Shun of reconciliation
Moving through the day
Fragments of soul shattered
Clatter re-
Mind her of sorrow
Another night
Collapsing on her pillow
Yet, familiar fingers seek
And find
Intertwine
With cheek pressed to cheek
Warm breath whispers
Love, Apology
Tears soften broken edges
Allow her to
Stitch together the pieces
With a thread of hope

This is written for Poetry Pantry at Poets United, poetryblogrollblogspot.com. A bit of the dark side this week, but as MLK said  "Everything that is done in the world is done by hope" and as the Beatles say "All you need is love" :-). Wishing everyone a healthy dose of both this week.

A Week of Stumbles

Little toes press to tippy toe walk
Moving before we can talk
Never seeing those dangers that stalk
Our steps, making us stumble
Falter, yet keep us humble
Years, tears, we reach and fumble
Seek joy, make sense of life's jumble

This is offered for Mary's prompt about steps--poetry jam--poetryjaam.blogspot.com; and for Poetic Bloomings form challenge to write a Saraband--really how could I resist that? And for dversepoets.com who are honoring fellow poet Dave King, who passed away this week and I'm honoring my friend's son who at 19,  passed away last week after an inspirational life--he was born with a defect in his liver and survived 5 liver transplants.  Sigh.  Cherish the days and the people you love--I cherish all of you :-)

It Remains To Be Seen

My hands wished to
Draw a leaf
Not words, with a pencil
No color, just graphite
Like a "B" or "2B"
Soft, to smudge
And glide
Not scratch the paper
I was striving for lush
Instead shadows eluded me
And I got bones
A leaf skeleton
It's not really finished
But I am
Finished
With the drawing
For now

For now
The drawing is finished
But, I am not really finished
It's a leaf skeleton
I got bones
Instead of shadows
That eluded me
I was striving for lush
Not to scratch the paper
And glide, soft to smudge
Like a "B" or "2B"
No color just graphite
A pencil, not words
To draw a leaf
Like my hands wished

This is offered for Laurie's intriguing prompt at poetry jam, poetryjaam.blogspot.com, to write a poems and then rewrite it "backwards". I love cycles and refrains so I really wanted to do this.  I think I like the backwards version better (figures...).  Based on a true story, happened today....