Day 7--National Poetry Month--Free Verse--Gold and Dust--Senses Poems--Ghost Pepper, Prophet

This is a Free verse poem I wrote when my son left home. How I miss him still.

GOLD AND DUST

I stand in your old room

And weep

For the hours

Not held to my heart

When they were new

Now fled through cracks

And into dark spaces

No one sees.

I finger your old toys

Imbued with ancient laughter

And sibling angst.

The sound of little boy giggles

And questions 

As you seek something

Under the bed.

Bricks and tinkertoys, 

Darts and scouting badges,

Books and swords and magical cards.

You no longer need such things

To make you happy.

She has your heart locked away

And keeps the key

On a short chain.

Will she allow you

Only fleeting glimpses

Of the past?

I hear them echoing

In ears long quiet

With your lack.

Why did I not take note?

Hours sifted like

Golden hourglass sand

Through my fingers

As my gaze hung elsewhere

On other gold-painted coal.

My time with you

Now relegated to

Memories not noted

By anyone but me.

For you, now, seek

Other vistas

Eyes looking outward

Not back at me and

Other dusty old things

I want to clutch you

To me

And fill your ears

With bright warnings

Mark an X where you

Bury your treasures

For even memories

Can flee on feet of lightning

Take time to sit

And brush the dust from those

Slippery bits of moments

Long sloughed away

In favor of the new

Shiny thing

Tack them down

So they cannot fly

For, though dusty, they are

That gossamer

Of which you are made

They are your wheelhouse

And your anchor,

Keeping you on the track

Towards becoming.

Without them, 

You'd flounder in

Uncertainty.

I stand at your door and weep

For you have gone,

Taking only a few

Bits and bobs

You deem important,

Leaving the rest

To silt away

Into obscurity

Until for some reason

I shake them out

And brush them off

To watch as once again

You play with your first

Christmas toy

Or build amazing structures

From bricks and

Your imagination.

My boy, my boy.

My winsome son.

Eager to please, 

With a mischievous grin.

Ah my heart,

Overflowing with

Love for you

And memories.

I close your door, 

Weeping.

Now I see your

Long lost shadow,

Your quirky smile,

The glint in your eyes,

Caught like cobweb

Among your things.

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy


This is a senses poem. This is the link to how to do one.

Ghost Pepper

I see this tiny, unassuming red thing on a neighboring plate.

I smell the overpowering scent of chili peppers.

I hear the laughter in the back as the kitchen staff watch a noob deal with his first ghost pepper.

I feel the crunch of ghosty's lesser brother, jalapeno beneath my teeth.

I taste enough heat to fire up a three stage rocket.

I think I'm glad I don't have one of those demon fruits on my plate.

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy


And another:

Prophet

I see a frail old man with eyes full of power--of the Spirit of God.

I smell the odor of ink as I capture his incredibly wise words

I hear amazing principles inspired by Christ, words which will fill my life with meaning

I feel my heart bursting with a will to reach out and up

I have a sour taste in my mouth considering all I have yet to do

I think this man was sent by the Father to lift and urge me to a better, though less easy path.  

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy