Author: poetryfest

Too Early, Too Soon

Green drapes blocked her view.
First cries weren’t heard,
but the chills told her
a part of her was taken
too early, too soon.

Even body-numbed,
the chills came fierce,
coldest inside her
because her 28-week guest
was out
too early, too soon.

The chills a rite of passage,
tearing the veil
between woman and mother.
Crossing that line, no turning back.
Mama’s first
too early, too soon.

Another human,
raw and tiny,
living and fighting in a bright, cold world.
Damn the disease that wrung him
from Mama
too early, too soon.

Where was her prize for passage?
Wrapped in plastic and whisked out
in a box by robed strangers.
Covered faces and pinched eyes
fixing Mama
too early, too soon.

The chills rocked Mama.
Careful strangers covered her arms.
Mama smiled and held still.
The lifetime of pretense had started.
Too-chill Mama
too early, too soon.

stick your tongue out, by Pavel Frolov

what if wearing masks is worse than
isolation
an entire generation short of social
cues

and what if everyone is making a
face
underneath their mask, like a
silly weird crazy
grimace
stretching lips showing
teeth

sticking out your
tongue
means different things in different
cultures
agreement and respect, or
rudeness and disgust, or a sexual
provocation

non-verbal communication
with eyes and eyebrows
gives your forehead
wrinkles

OLD MAN, by Mirjana Grbic

I LL NEVER BE SO CLOSE TO THE SKY
WHILE WATCHING DEEP INTO YOUR EYES
AND ALL MY TIREDNESS WHICH PUSH ME DOWN
WHILE I COUNTING SCARS IN MY MIND
THAN FEELING OF OLD MEMORIES
I DON’T FIND
AS AN OLD MAN WITH NO DESIRE
AS AN OLD MAN WITH THE FIRE
ONE WHO GETS HIM HIGHER AND HIGHER
TO A PLACE WHICH IS A MIRROR OF YOUR FACE
BEAUTY AND SUNGLIGHT TO THE SPACE
LIKE DAY BEFORE AND AFTER DAY
WHEN ALL SHADOWS PASS AWAY
THAN BRIGHTNESS OF YOUR SMILE
JUST PUT ME IN YOUR EYES
AND ALL MY BEING VIBRATING FAR
SO FAR TO A NEW STAR
FOLLOW THE DREAM UNTIL IS DONE
IN THE SPACE
WHERE INFINITE SUNSHINE
FLICKERS TO MOONLIGHT

THE PAINTING “OLD MAN” BY MIRJANA GRBIC

Frank
~ A poem by Robert Evans ~

As I sit here
in your Jacuzzi
on a balmy
Palm Springs night
the sound of your music
fills the air
I take a sip of wine
and think
of how
it must have been
A thousand voices
in idle chatter
the clink of glasses
peals of laughter
spaghetti dinners
made by your mamma
Famous guests
Dean and Sammy
Joey and Peter
Shirley M.
Marilyn M.
Jack K.
Cary
So Many
So Many
And now
as I enjoy
your music
I know…
you will live
forever…
your way

Poem: To My Mother, by Bev Irwin

My mother, my confidant, my friend
I do not want to lose you
I want to hold you close
Clutching your body to mine
But I am afraid of breaking
Those fragile bones
That hold you so loosely together
I do not want my great need of you
To hold you to a life that
No longer has meaning
What regrets do you have
As you look back on your life
What changes would you make
Would you have used
Different threads
In the tapestry that you wove
It has been a difficult life
Not one filled with as much love
As it could have been
Yet you endured
And gave us love
Did you keep going
More for us than yourself
I see you getting weaker
With each passing day
The oxygen tubing
That binds your life to ours
Becomes more strained
And less efficient
As you struggle for each breath
Do not hold on for me
I will survive without you
You have given me your love
Your kindness and your strength
These gifts will be with me always
Your memories I will hold in tender grace
To bring out one by one
As I continue on life’s journey alone
But let me give you my love
And allow you the peace
To take your next step
On your journey to God

I LL NEVER BE SO CLOSE TO THE SKY
WHILE WATCHING DEEP INTO YOUR EYES
AND ALL MY TIREDNESS WHICH PUSH ME DOWN
WHILE I COUNTING SCARS IN MY MIND
THAN FEELING OF OLD MEMORIES
I DON’T FIND
AS AN OLD MAN WITH NO DESIRE
AS AN OLD MAN WITH THE FIRE
ONE WHO GETS HIM HIGHER AND HIGHER
TO A PLACE WHICH IS A MIRROR OF YOUR FACE
BEAUTY AND SUNGLIGHT TO THE SPACE
LIKE DAY BEFORE AND AFTER DAY
WHEN ALL SHADOWS PASS AWAY
THAN BRIGHTNESS OF YOUR SMILE
JUST PUT ME IN YOUR EYES
AND ALL MY BEING VIBRATING FAR
SO FAR TO A NEW STAR
FOLLOW THE DREAM UNTIL IS DONE
IN THE SPACE
WHERE INFINITE SUNSHINE
FLICKERS TO MOONLIGHT

THE PAINTING “OLD MAN” BY MIRJANA GRBIC

One day he marks me down
and walks away.
He wings out
to places, I hate to know

Next, I want him so
but he tours
on a cove, I despise.

Soon I will not care
for the filth
he has as his den.

I bury stillborn dreams.

I learn to stay
in the crisp mist
far from his residues.

Today I howl him down.
My dreams wear padlocks:
No Entrance.

Today, I regret
Taking him back to the day
He came:
Not a word of excuse
Love
Why
Wherefore.

We set off from there.
I smother
Whys and wherefores

The mind, however, does not forget
And I revisit the boneyard
Of yesterday’s dreams.

If I could see today a tomorrow of many years to come, would I see a world at peace where human beings care for all in times of need? Would I see a humanity that has overcome its selfish and indigent behavior? If I could see today a tomorrow of many years to come, would I see the beauty of the earth in all its grandeur? Would I breathe clean air and drink pure water? If I could see today a tomorrow of many years to come, would I see all who are different accepted and all who believe coexisting? Or, if I could see today a tomorrow of many years to come, would I see a world still entangled in hatred, bigotry, and the mistreatment of all citizens of the world?

I pray that today there are tomorrows of many years to come.

A wet Saturday night
And the girls can’t decide
To go uncool with umbrellas
Or risk their curls without
The street sways free
Looking for a fight
Late for a connection

No prowling tonight
Not for me
With you, sweet boy
I’m always where I want to be.

We are taken by the give
Of our dusky rug
The amnesty of the evening
Heals up our headlines.

I stroke your forehead
As my father stroked mine
Though never long,
Never long
enough

And I realize how much
Through all my life
I’ve expected what I gave
To come back to me.

But all I got
Was a chance at the end
To stroke my dad’s hair
As he lay dying

It took us that long
To turn all the tables.

So
I stopped waiting for boomerangs
Of such unwrinkled joy
Giving doesn’t mean
You get.
Just take a toke and pass it on
Like yesterday’s paper…

We don’t breathe as one
You are twice as fast
Muffled in my armpit
Your hair so fine
It sticks to my chin
Reminds me to shave.

I have you now
So close to my life
That it seems very near
When you’ll stroke my hair
As I stroked my father’s
On that dry rainy night
When the walls drew in…

The old miser kept a stash
Of love, regrets and cash
He got wiser much too late
Death was waiting with his fate.

I guess he never heard
About the holy word
You can’t take it with you,
So know this is true:

Love is
Worthless, if you hoard it,
Priceless, if you give it
Away.

I’ll say it again.

Love is
Worthless, if you hoard it,
Priceless, if you give it
Away.

So give it away.

Don’t you dare grow old
Hoarding love like gold
It will wither and then rot
And what have you got?

If you give it all away
When you’ve lived your final day
It pays a good return
From others who learn:

Love is
Worthless, if you hoard it,
Priceless, if you give it
Away.

I’ll say it again.

Love is
Worthless, if you hoard it,
Priceless, if you give it
Away.

So give it away.

Don’t hoard love till you grow old
Love is not the same as gold
It is earned, but can’t be sold
It will warm you when you’re cold

It will share your heavy load
It will smooth your rocky road
It will pay more than you’re owed
You will reap what you sew

Love is
Worthless, if you hoard it,
Priceless, if you give it
Away.

So give it away.

J. Alan Hostetter