VIVID!


Vivid! Bright colors and raucous sounds
The scene stands out in my mind,
Vivid is a special word and I find
it jarring!
Vivid! Bright lipstick red,
Pick another color instead!
How about yellow?
Could it be mellow?
How about icy blue,
To stand in sharp contrast
And Still remain true?
Or white, even at night,
White can be bright.
Vivid! A bright crimson red,
Startling the world
And filling me with dread.

TEAMWORK


When a baby is born,
And family and friends gather around
Celebrating and Encouraging,
That’s teamwork.
When a soldier is homeward bound
Carrying memories with pride
And thoughts of those who lived or died,
He remembers teamwork.
When medical personnel, firemen, and the law
Save someone from death,
allowing even one more breath,
That’s teamwork.
When mothers and fathers spend the time
teaching their children right from wrong,
That’s teamwork.
When all work together
To make the world a better place,
That’s teamwork.

QUICKEN


“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
There was nothing I could do. Every time I saw her my heart would quicken and I would sweat profusely. My reactions were uncontrollable. I had no reasonable answer to her question. I tried avoiding her by misinterpreting what she meant. “How about them Yankees? Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
Of course, I could have simply said, “I agree with you that love at first sight is powerful and can knock someone for a loop.”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s the way I felt when I fell for your brother. It happened so suddenly I couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, and for a few wonderful moments I couldn’t breathe. That’s what I’m talking about.”
This changed my whole perspective. She wasn’t interested in me. I relaxed mentally but my heart was pounding. This was wrong. My life had been planned out for a long time. She didn’t know that my heart quickened and skipped a beat each time I saw her or even heard her name. This couldn’t be happening. I wanted to yell, to curse, or to take her into my arms and kiss her.
“Excuse me. You aren’t talking about you and me? You don’t like me? You are in love with my brother?”
“I was thinking about you, and considering whether I liked you just a little bit when I looked up and saw him. Now I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
Now there was a problem. I had spent several years enjoying my bachelorhood. Yet I was tired of being alone, tired of going through the endless questions and answers pertaining to my future. I just wanted to find THE ONE, settling down into a comfortable life, and loving forever.
She had recently invaded my dreams and I was slowly falling in love with her. No, I didn’t fall for her at first sight. I enjoyed her friendship and in my mind connections were made with a concrete foundation. I never anticipated she would find someone else, especially my brother. I couldn’t stand being around her while she gushed about him. She was my friend, not his.
“Yes,” she said slowly, “I thought I was in love with you but you ignored me and pushed me away. I’m glad we can still be friends.”
My anger flared. It was a flash fire out of control. “I can’t be friends with you,” I said. “I need much more than that. I want passion, not love at first sight. I want a love that binds, builds, and creates. I want my heart to quicken each time I see you. I want to hold your hand on long walks, kisses after we talk, and sharing moments of joy. Don’t you want the same?”
(To be continued)

There is nothing as loud as silence.


There is nothing as loud as silence
when I should have said something.
There is nothing as sad as crying
When I could have wiped the tears.
All the things I could have done
Keep me awake at night listening.
All the wounds I could have prevented
Ooze on and on, with no way to heal.
I did not cross the road to bind the wounds,
pay for the care,or help anyone in need.
I did not object to the leader’s words,
Or pray for peace instead of swords.
There is nothing as loud as silence
While the world prepares for war.

SHE OWES ME A KISS


Shivering at the edge of the abyss

I shouted, “She owes me a kiss!”

I glared at the jagged rocks below,

Accusing the storm, screaming against the wind.

“You’re the one who ought to know!

Why did you bring me here?

She was my darling, my sweet dear.

“Why?” I yelled again.

The storm roared on and on,

Oblivious to me, convinced it had won.

“My sweetheart lies cold and now she’s gone,

And I’m chilled to the bone.”

I took another swig from my flask.

“Is there no one who loves me, if I dare ask?”

I was ready to leap, but something held me back.

Was it courage that I lacked?

Should I follow her to a watery tomb,

Was I ready to meet my doom?

An unknown voice pierced my inner storm.

“Can I hold you and keep you warm?”

I was sure I heard an angel’s voice.

In the midst of chaos I made a choice.

I  chose a stranger whose kind eyes and sweet smile

Made me love her. (We’ve been married quite awhile).

You ask if I’m happy, I’ll tell you before I go,

My heart loves both, if you want to know.

I come here, and I always will,

To pay respects to my first wife, I love her still.

I’d be lying if I denied all this.

But it seems like yesterday,

And she owes me a kiss.

 

 

 

BUZZARDS ARE GATHERING


BUZZARDS ARE GATHERING

I’m moving slowly this morning.

My back hurts as I do the Parkinson’s shuffle.

One foot, now the next,

Not too fast, I warn myself.

This dance is not for the weak.

The buzzards are gathering.

I’m not dead, but I haven’t had my coffee.

Usually I pour the hot steaming liquid

With finesse and flair.

But today the smell of death hangs in the air.

I’m too tired to put the little container

Into the coffee maker and push start.

I’ve lost mastery over that art.

My muscles have been cramping,

My hands have been shaking,

Neurons and glial cells shrinking,

Nothing I can see, yet it’s happening to me.

I continue to function

Learning and memory gain as my goal.

Regeneration of brain cells.

I search for some research

That offers me a cure,

Or a reason for hope

Or a reason to laugh

Or a reason to live and love.

I look around.

The buzzards are still gathering.

 

April 20, 2016

Dan Roberson

 

 

HE LOVED HER MOODS


He loved the ocean’s many moods,

From red skies in the morning with all alarms,

He warily observed the smooth horizon

But prepared for her oncoming storms.

Beginning with majestic swells,

The ship rode waves from trough to crest.

Inside the cabin he felt content and safe,

Like being at his mother’s breast.

 

There were also quiet clear nights,

Electric nights filled with glowing fish,

That darted alongside the ship’s hull,

Ready to grant him his favorite wish.

He wished he could be one of them,

Leaping and flying from wave to wave.

But as he watched he felt great despair.

He would never be quite so brave.

The sea could lure him from time to time,

Her beauty had him under her spell.

He would return and walk that rolling gait,

She knew his heart too well.

Seascapes were surreal but always a delight.

Harbors were protection during perilous night.

The ocean was his mother, his wife, his lifeboat,

And from the crow’s nest, his world was afloat.

 

4/20/2016

Dan Roberson