FORGIVENESS

It's Tuesday Poetics, and
Frank has suggested the topic
of forgiveness and blame.  I don’t
take the topic lightly, but I couldn’t
resist having a bit of fun with it. 
Submitted to dVerse
February 27, 2019
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On the topic of forgiveness
There are books of wise advice
I’ve tried to master the art
I’ve read them all once or twice

I try to practice forgiveness
And walk in another’s shoes
Often they don’t fit too well
Some things are hard to excuse

It’s easy when things go awry
To point a finger of blame
And not accept that our own bad choice
Changed the play of the game

One point that left an impression
Before I returned a book to my shelf
Was that one of the most important things
Is to learn to forgive yourself

Another point that impressed me
Came from that fellow John Wayne
“Forgive your enemy”, he said,
“But remember the bastard’s name!”

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A SIP

It’s time for Quadrille #74
and Mish asks us to feature
the word sip, or form thereof.
Submitted to dVerse
February 25, 2019
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Eloquent with age
secrets lie within
your chipped porcelain
of lips that sipped
from your communal cup
cool, clear water
from some unknown well. 
Secrets of those sippets
remain your story to tell 
assuring a slip of the lip
remains beside the well.

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Art by David Arms

NIGHT FRIGHT

Open Link Night at dVerse, and we post a
poem of our choice.  I rarely write on the
dark side, but this one was fun.
Submitted to dVerse Open Link
February 21, 2019
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Deep in the woods at the dead of night
when fog shrouds the forest paths
and small creatures burrow deep for safety,
the Gonnagetchas snuffle and growl.

Evil settles over the countryside
in a dank miasmic cloud of discontent.
Babes are restless in their cribs and
seek their mother’s comfort. Dogs cower
and bark at shadows.

In the branches of the tallest oak the owl
asks “Who?“ and small birds chatter timidly
in response.  Behind the barn, the cattle
huddle a bit closer and move restively. Chickens
cling fearfully to their roosts and exchange
clucks of concern.

I pull my covers ‘round my ears,  listen to
the tick tock of grandma’s old clock, and
wait for dawn to come and save me.

PRIVILEGE

It’s time for dVerse Poetics, and we’re
asked to consider privilege … a topic with
infinite possibilities and much food for thought.
Here are my thoughts on privilege.
Submitted to dVerse Poetics
February 20, 2019
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I sometimes wonder at the privilege to be me.
After all, I might have been, for example,   
a child in a ghetto in India., a struggling mother
of 6 in poorest Appalachia, a victim of sex trafficking,
the wife of a Masai warrior in Kenya, or living in
poverty on an American Indian reservation.

By what quirk of fate and serendipity was I born
to loving parents who pulled themselves from the
poverty of post-depression  middle America.  I
was privileged to get an education, to marry a
good man, to have children who’ve made me
proud, to have lived in comfort, if not in wealth.

I’ve not been ridiculed, bullied or suppressed
because of my race, creed, gender or merely the
happenstance of my birth.   I’ve been allowed to
speak my truth, explore my possibilities, and
enjoy the luxury of  a safe and secure environment.
Who am I to be so privileged? What incredible
spiraling chain of DNA led to the person that is me?

GAMES OF CHANCE

Sarah has challenged us to select
three names of games from a list
and forge them into a poem.  The
list was such fun I got carried away!
Submitted to dVerse Poetics
February 13,  2019
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Doom follows my torchlight
down the Path of Exile
through the myst
peopled with dark souls

Is this my destiny?
Have I signed some assassin’s creed
Or made a deal with Diablo?
I quake at the thought.

God of War, spare me
Lead me to my honey mine
before the Space Invaders
precede me to the Blossom Blast.