Tag: Poetry

A Caregiver’s Heart.

I cared for you even before we met.

As letters meandering the page
sketched the contours of a portrait,
I looked forward to meeting you.

As I enter the room,
I sense a fragrance of time past,
of struggles endured years before–
silent whispers of a mind’s unrest
reflected through misted eyes.

As we talk,
of a soul’s facade you steadily disrobe.
Words of suffering and pain, joy and pride-
each syllable a silvered twine
weaving your life’s story.

I examine you.
Your heart-
that fulcrum deeply hinged.
A bittersweet thrum
of a battery strong but worn.
Your lungs-
that which sing
their own melodious song,
a lulling carol
invigorated with each exhale.

From there a journey it becomes
to strengthen you, to make you whole.
A disease conquered, a valley bridged.
A hollow filled, a life restored.

We work together.
As ripples in a wake,
your life affects mine,
for the same heart that aches
when you suffer
rejoices with you
in your victories.

Because this is what I treasure–
the chance to care for you,
to walk with you.

It is a privilege.

So thank you for letting me.

Puppydoc on…YouTube?

One may have noticed something peculiar about Puppydoc’s posts this past week…in that they contained videos of her. It is true: Puppydoc has decided to start showing her puppy face to those in her world who would want to see it. As for Samantha,…

A Letter to Grandma.

Fragments of moons past
sketch silhouettes of
a scenery divine.
A daytime reverie.
Fond memory.
A granddaughter missing you.

Do you recall, grandma?
Long ago, a grandbaby born
into an era of bitter lack,
that enriched by your presence,
comforting embrace,
renewed to an age of precious worth?

Do you suffer, grandma?
Parted by spanning seas,
my tears diffuse beneath the rain.
Had I a wish and a dove I became,
my wings would span,
sealing the distance between us.

Do you remember me, grandma?
Though the crook of time
has stolen your sight,
stripped your mind,
blunted your strength,
with a heavy heart
I still see you as before-
with beauty so simple,
love so pure
to inspire
a nightingale’s lament.

So fear not the season’s change, grandma,
nor the graying sun,
the silvering stream-
as the end of the road
will glisten a rainbow,
and the mists of tomorrow
will clear away your fog.

And then I will again be your grandbaby.

Embraced.

A love unknown…

A Search Within.

The search for strength…

Assurance.

Frosted stars proclaimed by breeze,
a dance of farewell before their queen.
Revealed by moon’s glow in misted eyes,
a wish reflected. A longing…seeking…to be found.

Thread of secrets, thrum of time,
silvered braids upon wounded soul.
A queen before her horizon heeds the echoed
promise of a rising sun. She smiles.

Dawning.

Snowflakes.
Fading upon blushed flesh,
its rivulets a frame
sketched for the captive soul.
Gaze glimmering, hope dissolving,
an echo to the void of twilight’s end.
She longs to be released.

A breath divine.
An oasis to a threadbare wish
sculpts bittersweetness
into frosted air.
Embraced by light,
she follows the seraph’s call
and is freed.

A Lunch with a Gift.

“…You are a doctor to many,
but an angel you have been to me
who encouraged, cared, and healed my pain,
and a light you made me see.

I am sad that you are no longer my doc
but am glad that you are my friend.
And I hope we can keep in touch
until the very end…”

Tomorrow.

Cheer that blossomed within our hearts,
stirred by your presence at each day’s start,
yearns to wilt when you depart.
But our song will sing again, tomorrow.

The smiles that pierced through saddened guise,
the rays which conquered thundered skies,
they ache to dim neath heaven’s cries.
But the sun will rise again, tomorrow.

For many years our lives you blessed,
but the hour has come for you to rest,
to soar upon hills on golden crest.
So have no fear, tomorrow.

For on that day, I know we shall meet again.

Cleansed.

A
teardrop
drifts beneath
the shoal as river’s
waltz caress my
soul.

Forgotten.

Stains of sorrow from ages past
capture frost within the haze.
A spirit scarred, of treasures stripped,
It yearns to find the way.

Haunted by a stillness cruel,
this wanderer amongst the trees.
Solemn, aching, silently–
she fades into the breeze.

A Bitter Thanksgiving.

Allow me to spin upon the spindle
a tale of an encounter true.
A patient once, a homeless mum,
her words now shared with you:

The hour of autumn arrives anew
when mirth and feasts abound.
But let me confess my days to you,
true gifts which have been found…

The steady cadence of my heart,
voice to praise when souls fall dark,
vision to behold each fresh day’s start-
For this, I am thankful.

The assured exhale of every breath,
joys gone by, its memories kept,
cloth to shield from winter’s death-
For this, I am thankful

Days when I can veil my cries,
days I look you in the eyes,
to know on night lies brighter skies-
For this, I am thankful.

So for this…I am thankful.

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