Poetry

Resonance

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White on white
      A white girl
      In a white room
      Being pushed into a white machine

Kindly pushed I should add
     Paul is my MRI tech
     I hate MRIs
     I get through this MRI by thinking about my man   
     I call him the beautiful man
     He’s gone now. Gone forever.
     His name means too much
           so I can’t say it
     He has simply become 
          The Beautiful Man

Beeps and buzzes bombard me 
      Enter me
White walls entomb me
      It’s hard to believe these machines don’t cause cancer
           Terror comes nearer
      I repeat every beautiful thing he ever told me
      Time with you is a precious gift
            He said
      I remember his kisses
           His eyes shut
      I remember asking him how I did
           After our first kiss
           Magnificent he said
      I remember my read resting awkwardly on his arm
           Our backs on the grass 
                outside Garfield Conservatory
          Leaves against the clouds 
               filling my view above
          His lean face filling my view to the right
      I remember him skating backwards
           Grinning and relaxed
           At the outdoor skating rink
           Me skating towards him
                Chatting about his two boys
                Wearing his extra hat on my head
      What should I call you?
           He asked
           Playfully working to find the best pet name for me
           I never needed a pet name
           I just needed him
           He could have called me catface
                and my heart would have melted
      My beautiful Abigail
           Is the last thing he ever called me
           And the best
           Because he said “my”

Who knew
      Someday he would be gone
      And his memories would rescue me from an MRI machine

   

I Saw the Dragon

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Dear Mike

I saw the dragon eat the moon tonight

    It fell down into its belly

        opulent, opaque, opalescent

I saw the dragon lose its jaw tonight

    Old man dragon it became

        Then no dragon at all

Dear Mike

Did you see the dragon tonight

    Opulent, opaque, opalescent

        Wispy, fairy and free?

I saw the dragon tonight

    High in the sky

        Made of clouds and wind and rain

    The moon its playmate

My backyard front row seats to this theater

Dear Mike

    Are there dragons in England

    There are in Illinois

    I saw one tonight

    It says hi

    And so do I

Unwritten Things

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But she had loved unwritten things instead,
I pondered as night’s windows filled with gray
and all the things the rain had left unsaid.

To live not of the heart but of the head
has been my curse, each memo to its tray,
but she had loved unwritten things instead.

That such unlikes, by wry chance, should be wed!
What, in this voiceless autumn’s disarray,
of all the things the rain has left unsaid,

but walks that road, kneels in the flashing red,
as if she would awaken where she lay,
for she had loved unwritten things instead.

Who knows where noon’s flecked sidewalks might have led
had I let schedules look the other way?
And all the things the rain has left unsaid

might have voice still, the A string that was dead,
the improvised sonatas she would play,
for she had loved unwritten things instead,
and all the things the rain has left unsaid.

Written by M Ragland | Source

To Get Home Before It’s Dark

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A dearly loved poem, written by Grandpa.

Once I was young and active, and now I am getting old.
My body, once warm and dynamic, now becomes so cold.
I was a child around children, now older folks are near
To be my close companions, to share and help and cheer.

Once I loved to travel distance, and see all kinds of sights.
But now I want to stay close by and be at home at night.
I loved to travel here and there, and life was such a lark,
But now my aim is always to get home before it’s dark!

I took a wife and enjoyed life and worked with all my strength.
We built our home with beauty, going to any length.
We worked and played just every day, resting so sweet at night.
With sparkling eyes we bought supplies and did that which is right.

Then came a child into our home, and then arrived her sister.
And, oh, we were so happy; we hugged and cooed and kissed her.
Now I’m a child again, as I play with our sweet family,
And wife and I again games play, so very warm and happy.

The years roll by, grandchildren come; then quiet is our home.
They’ve moved away, makes long my day, as o’er the earth they roam.
Now since I’m old and weary, and have of life a spark,
I’ll keep Heaven on my mind to get Home before it’s dark!

– Rev. Marion R. Thomas