I must take umbrage over those words
that you have shared with all the world.
My deepest secrets, revealed, I thought, to you alone––
lie here, their magic lost,
trapped in tabloids––worthless
except as wraps for fish and chips.
A Cherita, for dVerse Poets Thanks to Matthew Reyes for use of his image on unsplash and to Forgottenman for his additional prompt “umbrage.”
See other poems for this prompt HERE.
Class Reunion
I wish I’d set the truth aside.
I wish instead that I had lied
when you asked the reason why
I didn’t choose the other guy.
I wish I’d said you’d won my heart
quickly, from the very start.
But, alas, I told the truth.
Blame it on my careless youth.
It was, perhaps, naïveté
that made me answer you that way.
I said you were my second choice,
then heard that quaver in your voice.
For all those years forever after,
I’ve recalled your bitter laughter
as you said you guessed you’d wait
for the type of girl who’d rate
you first when making her selection,
and thus began your swift defection.
After all these years, I’ll tell
that I remember very well
regrets I suffered at your leaving—
all those nights of futile grieving.
Watching as you met your wife,
had your kids and built your life.
Every few years at class reunions
as we all share our fond communions,
I’ll catch your eye and feel the spark
that goes unnoticed in the dark.
And every day, until I die,
I’ll wish I’d told that little lie.
for dVerse Poets the prompt is to write a poem about any pivotal moment in your life that left you with gnawing regrets or you could cover the entire gamut from anger to forgiveness and reconciliation. In short, you will be writing about a krisis in your personal life. Image by Viktor Talashuk on Unsplash.
Revolution
You’ve staged a friendly takeover of my willing heart,
and now you hold the power to upset the apple cart.
You are the despot of my dreams, plotter of all my hopes.
You share that flashy facade of other misanthropes.
By accepting without judgment all your base instruction,
I complied with your deception and shared in my destruction.
You are the low point of my life and now I must be free
to leave that life you cast me in to see what I can be.
For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 703 the words are:
flashy facades free takeover destruction power despots low hope heart hold how
Dear Jane
I hold your letter in my hand as the sun like a crimson dragon claws through the thinning clouds––spreading its sunset colors against a sky bruised with the remnants of an earlier fog. It casts a halo around your head–a spell broken by what you have just repeated to me in person––those words that have hollowed out my heart, now empty of all those past promises gone without a trace.
You are bound for the glory of that new career, far off in a golden land. No mention of my coming along. So I will remain, formerly yours, broken-hearted, in this place where the sun has now set for you, ready to rise again, as you will, on the other side of the world.
For the Sunday Whirl Wordle #694 the prompt words are: hollow clawing bruised broken spell spiralingfog halo bound trace dragon crimson
Falling
I dreamed I fell into the rain
that held me in its midst.
It flooded me with memories:
the room where we first kissed,
the tree tapping the window
as you claimed me as your own,
both caught up in that deluge
where I now drift alone.
For Wednesday Poetry Prompts 717, the prompt words are: dream, fall, own, rain, tree, window.
Double Betrayal
Her thoughts in parting were most candid,
her emotions, clearly branded
on her face. They reprimanded
him for how he cruelly stranded
her within their love affair—
how he left her standing there
alone, heartbroken, vulnerable.
How he’d burst her true love’s bubble.
Thus was her earlier promise broken
before a single word was spoken
when she met them, face to face,
engaged in intimate embrace—
that one who was to be her mister
with her faithless younger sister.
For dVerse Poets
See how others responded HERE.
Broken
Though I can’t say that I’ve been missing
hugs and cuddling and kissing,
still I have a memory of
those intimacies wrought by love.
It is as though there’s some obstruction
probably of my own construction
that makes me concentrate on things
instead of all that loving brings.
It’s true that objects may be lost,
but still, it’s not at half the cost.
For it is when loved ones are taken
that one’s world is truly shaken.
When objects break, it pains our purse,
but losing people is much worse.
For when death rends lovers apart,
the thing that’s broken is a heart
I woke up to this prompt from Forgottenman:
No friggin’ idea why, but I just conjured up a three-word prompt: anvil, fluffy, sediment. Do with them as you will or not. (Yeah, I needa head to bed.)
I’ve said before that I am game for any challenge, so here goes:
Cold-Hearted
You’re fluffy as an anvil, as sweet as cod liver pie.
The sediment from the hearts you’ve broken piles up so high
that you can’t be seen behind it, so there you sit, alone.
reflecting on the shattered loves for which you must atone.
Image by Kasia Darenda on Unsplash. And this poem, although written in the second person, is not directed at the prompter.
“Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.”
Love Lost, Love Gained
Since my true love just up and left,
there’s no relief. I am bereft.
No matter how much I expound,
help is nowhere to be found.
Come, wipe the memory of his face.
Let, then, a new love take its place.
“Us” bleached out from my memory,
kiss wiped so a new kiss may be,
and so forsake this moan and vetting.
Part of love lies in forgetting.
For the dVerse Poets prompt, we were to take one of the given lines and to make a poem of it, using each word of the line, in order, as the the beginning word in each line of our poem. The the line I chose precedes the poem: “Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.”
For dVerse Poets
To see other poems written to this prompt, go HERE.
Memories of Loves Past
To improve those ancient feelings regarding love that’s past—
all of those sad endings for love that didn’t last—
relate the facts as comedy. Banter about life’s failings.
Laughter serves you better than retroactive wailings!
Actually, the past love I’m fighting sad feelings about today is the 22 year old Royal Poinciana tree that they are cutting down today. It had root rot and was in danger of falling so it had to be done. So, unbeknownst to me, I gave myself good advice in writing this poem which started out to be about love of another variety. Here is the tree in all its former glory:
.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 