Finals Week

In such slow motion

we walk along autumn.

The first snowflake amidst rain

flickers before unnoticed death.

We dance by with eyes closed.

We skip, gallop, we trip and give a

day or two of thanks. We lift our heads,

there it is: Finals Week.

Like brushing teeth without water.

Like combing hair with thick fingers.

We plunge in with a mask but no air tanks.

Who knew we could live so long without breath?

Mourning Land

I am hurting.
I am sorry
this may not make much sense.
I was little when my parents
bought a piece of land
built a house
made a home step
by step added layer after
layer until theirs was a family of six.
I was 6 when my Father passed away.
I remember only the things a six year old remembers.
I remember bear hugs  and all encompassing warmth
from love and fury the ways Dads did.
I remember watching them through the rain lower
him in his box into the ground.
but there was the land.
It was a five star kitchen
and we served the best mud-pies with sides of cattails.
Then there was my step dad.
It was Hell in many ways
as his children were the demons
who would forever torment him
he could not love them enough
he would never love us too little
and there we were trapped in that.
But there was the land.
We explored it and it fed our tummies,
our hearts and our minds
some twenty years plus
there was divorce
but there was the land
it would stay with us and so we lived
our lives and took for granted that land would always be there.
We walked it. We looked out over it.  We loved it.
But we did not tend it.
Thirty years to the day
we lost Father number two.  Disbelief.
Pain. So raw.
But there was the land.
It was stable. It was constant. It was there.
As it was before.
Then it wasn’t.
I say goodbye not just to the land, but
to him and him.  To a Childhood of sketches and poetry and bumps,
bruises, and broken hearts.  To tears of sadness and of happy.
To smiles and laughter.  To cookie flour strewn about the laminate
floor and metal stairs that beckoned for injuries.  To the smell
of peat moss and the sound of pure country as the stars blink
at the cricket’s call.
I mourn the loss of the stage
that always played
my most favorite parts
of the life that was mine.
There are those that hurt
a same hurt
and I shall hold
on to them.

Here’s to you

Original Work by J.Lyn 11/7/2014

Here’s to you
my funny friends who have
such entertaining posts & tweets.
I lol’d all over the fof or
is there no such thing?
 
Here’s to you 
my infinite pixeled photo opp
and the ability to share – so teets!
or tits? so totes. Adorbs. For real.
So a word can say a thousand 
words the way a photo can?
 
So for the year 2014
I devoted all my time to scrolling 
through feeds and clicking like to every
selfie, cool app, baby laughing, cat falling
every random poll that tells me who I am
 
But I cannot lie
I miss oh four when myspace
was barely there and still not here. 
When friending was done in person
and goose flesh resulted from
hearing laughter and tasting tears and it
 
Occurred each day for real.

Just Once

                                                                                                                                                                          Original Work 11/7/2014 J.Lyn

Once upon a time in tales of yore
were stories of unmatched moral compass
They reached across from shore to shore
to set right various sorts of rumpus. 
 
They guided hearts and mended minds
they spoke to kids and wives and husbands.
They warned which words caused lasting binds
and traced traits that made slow time sands.
 
But then one dark and gloomy day
a man all dressed in night
decided scaring children away
just didn’t seem all that right.
 
He took the stories, shook them out
shedding what made fright or fear
He aimed for dry and safe all about
as he wanted every record clear.
 
And soon the children forgot the why
of not to play at night
And there came this woman not at all shy
dancing through moonlight
 
The colors were Oh! so very Oh!
and everyone craned to see
They followed one by one and so
that city began ceasing to be. 
 
 

Why wake

20131231-103122.jpg

Why wake if but to die
When you look you see the reasons why
You laugh
You smile
You Love
You cry
and those my Child
are The reasons Why.

~J.Lyn.  Dec 5, 2013.

Lost In Reverie

 

Lost in Reverie      ~J.Lyn          ~10/9/2013

 

Quite unintentionally, I have determined where I live

Did I always thought it was here and now, I did.

and so I disposed myself to the reason hid

for life at all in this life someone did give.

 

I searched the lines of shelves of books

dug deep in hidden passages and nooks.

I looked to the stars, thru the prophets, heard jokers.

The while long I shied away from badness and blokers.

 

I worked hard and harder still as any good person does at will

I fought my demons. fought tired. fought ill.

and still I fought when others did not.

I saw them, they know, when their sins they bought.

 

And there I was, here I am, still wondering

and every little thing wraps into one pondering.

While I gaze upon the fabled words in Hollow asleep

I found my place in reverie as Irving did keep.