It’s dark here, so dark, and getting darker by degrees.
Darker than a well, ‘round with heavy metal walls.
Darker than our pasture when coyotes bawl.
Darker than sleet, quickly falling down.
Darker than the future for this love-forsaken town.
Darker than the traveling cookers, making meth.
Darker than the search for still-born breath.
Darker by far than ever I’ve seen.
Darkness that cuts like a guillotine.
An original piece by Lori H. Copyright Feb 9, 2018
As a small child atop a large knee,
I learned a thing or two ‘bout me.
“Blue eyes can be captivating.
Love is great and worth the waiting!
Smart and savvy aren’t the same,
and yes, you’ll have your share of shame.
Hard work doesn’t always pay,
and cherished folks don’t always stay,
and fortunes rise, but they also fall.
Through it all, yes through it all:
The tough, the rough, the messy bits,
your lot of fools and senseless nits,
You’ll pull through,
and do you know why?
‘Cuz I’ll be watching out for you!”
I think maybe I’ve shared it here before.
My super power is INDECISION!
Admittedly, it is hard to see how this super power is going to help save anyone, let alone aid the world, but there it is.
Today, I’m trying to navigate the murky waters surrounding a new 401K plan at the job, offered by the new owners. Ugh, I am not financially savvy.
Not at all!
With a lack of financial savvy and indecision nipping at my heels, this girl is a bit overwhelmed this morning.
Alas, this too shall pass. Until it does, I will be dreaming of a green pasture somewhere and billowy clouds sailing by over head. My happy place in NEPA!
Do you sometimes procrastinate when faced with confusing information? What gets you going when you’re stalled?
Poetry by Shel Silverstein
Remember folks, this ain’t literature, it’s my 5-Minute Monday poem and stress-reliever, so take it as such. 😉
So. Much. Fun!
My week can begin.
I’m ’bout to dig in.
The week is before me,
A plethora of choices,
a passel or more.
I could mop the kitchen.
I could trim the shrubs.
I could bake some cookies
His feet, I could rub.
It wouldn’t take long to change out burnt-out bulbs,
Oh, could I? Yes, please!
Get out in the sunlight and stroll in the woods?
I would, if I could, and I can.
“It’s all good!”
Piles of it.
Skirts, way too short.
The evidence of life, well-lived.
Soiled briefs boot-skooted through agitating foam.
Stanky microbian fumes pirouette,
dance the pole down poly pipes on their way to the sewer.
Corruption washed away by the Tide.
Detergent gifting redemption.
Funny how little shifts in the universe upset otherwise stable worlds…
A man in his sixties makes an off-handed remark about wanting to retire some day and dozens of lives shift left two degrees.
A leaf blowing across an abandoned parking lot is snagged, caught by a post jutting up from the asphalt floor below; an adventure into promise shifts ever so slightly right.
A goal-setter looking to improve her odds embarks on a ambitious plan to lose 10 pounds at the same sad time her neighbor walks up the front steps of the brown stone, a pan of ziti in her arms.
He-squirrel, running frantically to catch up with his next sexual partner meets fate at the hands of a passing car, while she runs free to romp and mate again.
Shifting sands, all.
Pitfalls in disguise.
Buckets of sand shifting, shifting, shifting.
Another shimmering mirage takes form.