"A Bright Day..."

Thought-full - in its way.

It grew while I wasn't looking - who knew?

“A Bright Day…”

 

Sitting…

Opening blinds…

A bright day.

 

From the door -

sunlight raising waves of heat…

asphalt shimmering like water,

under the absolute lightest, clearest blue -

a now …a forever… view.

 

Time to water the porch plants -

our thirst a visible, breathing, NEED.

Their still-rolled flowers awaiting …calling -

atop drooping, begging leaves - fingertips

…shivering in the heat

mere childrens’ souls awaiting…

shriveling more and more as time softly squeezes

…our existence.

 

Step out - onto the porch.

Boards giving way as they’re meant to be.

Standing still, barely being, swayed

as life’s breath passes - slowly

…slowly… enwrapping with such a long, long sigh… me’s.

 

Pausing - looking out across the rail

then down …down… down into thens -

A timeless pause and it’s now.

I seldom notice the boards -

You know - that I used back then

And made into …this.

Life has its own boards too.

And I noticed them.

Held them.

Believed.

Built…

 

As the boards swell and shrink,

the paint wistfully peels -

in curls, in curves, and strips

up and off ‘til fractures spread.

And the bits -

the bits …float and whisper with the errant breezes

as breaking the bonds

- life-worn

- Time …worn…

existence …worn… by moments

…we become as we are.

 

 

Water stains…

change every view and now -

whethers leak from I’s

…can…

OR just God’s visiting of lifes’ happens…

- Strange how the sun kisses

damp cheeks …dry -

And the rail is a balance

- as life seldom is -

while fingertips softly stroke night-twisted petals.

 

And I -

and I step off

down the stairs…

to wander outward - across the ways.

Walking stick tapping time and place

and balance as my pacing -

following sidewalks, stepping on cracks -

mind-living-numb

…errant ants racing on oblivious scents

following …following… our needs -

needs to follow others’ traces,

others’ wants, wishes, dreams(?), lives-deaths-paths.

 

The sun …a mistress - a vision

sinking into gray-brown-green morass

of over-blown, undergrown saw-toothed needles

crushed by caringless-and-less feet.

Ghostlets swaying in my eyes

on empty-chained swings -

cob-webbed teeter-totters frozen - in time

with seashells and springed-horsies

rust-stained and keeping place.

The squirrels are hammering my ears -

Go…go away - faster …faster - LEAVE

GO AWAY… and I am

I am …going away

And I and they know it.

 

And the light fades

And the blue …deepens

And I stare

And we stare

…into forever.

 

Chris

Author's Note

feel free

EVERY WORD was chosen - no typos.

Reviews

[Crowley]

What a down hill roll. As a whole this piece is amazing, broken into the sum of its parts, there are sections that are pure genius. "Life has its own boards too. And I noticed them"...etc. That is the core of this piece, everything else seems to extends from that in both directions. I loved reading this, it hits all the right spots and since we all resemble this poem at some point, its truth cannot be denied.

[Stephany]

Funny the things that can make us reminisce

[Chris]

isn't it...sigh

[‘Thoughts In Time..]

Oh wonderful- we all need that special place and time- time taken out to just need and be- I feel your peace your acceptance appreciation of the now- the beautiful calm- I pray your heart is free of worry and that peace replaces pain- I see how you watch each second passing by feeling beneath ur feet the connection of being here and now- wonderful watching waiting and not knowing exactly what comes next but not afraid to follow the way with acceptance- beautiful picture you’ve set and peace all around- I pray it’s peace you have found- blessings🌹

[jacob erin-cilberto]

boards creak, bones creak....life moves on and eventually without us...

but like those boards on the porch we get used to things...and people get used to us being around...

will we miss those boards if replaced? will others miss us when we are replaced?

this poem reminded me of my dad who passed away a year ago March at 97---
he was like an old comfortable porch---his view points...the view of him sitting in his easy chair...
the life he would review with us...i loved hearing the old stories...they were like a comfortable breeze to me.
j.

[Weeping willow]

Nicely expressed as the words form into images ;-] enjoyable.

[Coyote Poetry]

Amazing use of words and thoughts. Sometime we must slow down and enjoy our world. I liked the places you took me with. Thank you Chris for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Lyn Anderson]

This one is worth not only a revisit, but another review. Those weathered boards are beautiful and carry the weight of things past and the expectation of tomorrow's yet to come

[Jack Lamar]

lovely. an macabre orchestra of words.

[Chris]

The tones carry us as they may...

[J. J. Nightingale]

A very real read..as always
No steps for me, but cement near and far, to meet and navigate., and fear.
And yes, ants.. bees, flies and other lives..
Trees 60 - 70 yrs old.. still reaching, needing .. teaching.
And we love so many things, we see and hold, and hear, and realize..
Oh how we can relate, to weathered worn and aged ..

Thanks for sharing your world..your journey..your heart..

Take Care...♥

[Lyn Anderson]

There are so many elements to this piece. Can we be sad and accepting, hurtling toward the thing we know is coming, and deliberate at the same time. Of course. The sun is not one thing, nor are the things we've made in this world or the people we've met along the way. Wonderful contemplating

[Chris]

Thoughts and memorabilia... go figure.