Regret--National Poetry Month

Here's a double haiku poem for Poetry Month entitled

Regret

At the end of my time here
The days like small coins
Fall tink'ling through my fingers.

For what purpose have I spent
Or perhaps squandered
My limited cache of coins?

© 2016 by H. Linn Murphy

You can read about haiku at this site.

Gone the Day

It's day the 18th and I have chosen a Free Verse poem to celebrate all the black and white movies I've been watching as I lay on the couch drowning in allergies. They wrote and spoke more lyrically, more introspectively, in those early days. Sometimes I weep inside with the beauty of their words. Here's my tribute to them:

Gone the Day

Quiet, now, time to pay

The piper of today, that spinning, 

Dancing, cavorting player upon the pipes

Sleepily the night winged birds dip towards horizon

I stand watching the sunlight fade to gold-burnished indigo

The day has fled, drawing a blanket of stars across the velvet night.

I drink in the night only infrequently, refusing to lift my head

Gone with the sun, today's helping of rich potential

Departed, falling through the glass

As sand, mounding up

Never to return.

And I? 

Have I mourned

That tender gift of time

Which now is gone away?

No. Never sufficiently. I have paid

For my tomorrows with the sunsets of today

And garishly and carelessly have I danced away

The possibilities with which tomorrow lay festooned.

I crouch, instead, fearful of lesser things which I have wrought.

I wish I'd filled this day with the brilliance of a fresh-cut rose.

Knowing I shall never retrieve that which I have lost

A single, wasted tear, for nothing brings what

Has flown away, back again.

But what of tomorrow?

Await the Morning

© 2015 by H. Linn Murphy

Review of On Little Wings

It has been a long time since such words wove through my hair, my clothing, and my mind--like sea spray in a stiff breeze. On Little Wings spoke to my soul and reminded me of my own lost, bittersweet loves, my summer magic, my little death as I said good-bye. He waits in my memories, laughing, teasing me. I was once seventeen too.

More than that, the book speaks to me of another--of my own wounds left unbound, years still slowly bleeding as we watch our separate lives slide away in silence. How I wish I had the courage, like Jennifer, to reach out and draw him close, knowing that he finally understood. How I wish I could understand him before it's too late and dark regret seals me away from him.

Thank you, Regina, for your luscious imagery, for your journey to the sea, and back into hours left standing in dusty jars. Thank you for reminding me that words are to taste, not to bludgeon. I'm keeping this book