Tag Archives: hard decisions

To Kiss or Not to Kiss?

To see what led up to this poem, you must first go to Forgottenman’s blog and peek in on a Skype conversation we had prior to my writing it. Go HERE to see his blog, then hurry back here. (In case you wonder who Remi is, that’s what Forgottenman calls me.  Long story…

To Kiss or Not to Kiss.

Please forgive my oscillation
due to my slight trepidation
concerning your excitation
due to your anticipation
of a proposed osculation.
But I fear your oscitation
creates a slight oppilation
blocking much of my elation
concerning your machination.
Will there be conciliation
or gradual occultation
leading to my castigation
and reduction of your station
as simply a tiny ration
of my love life education?

Below are the words he prescribed to be included in a poem, along with their definitions, which he did not bother to provide. Must say, I had never heard of four of them:

Oscillation: to move back and forth between two points, like a pendulumTo vary between two states, amounts, feelings, or opinions
To be undecided about something, or waver between conflicting positions or courses of action
Osculation: kiss
Oscitation:
 the act of being inattentive.

Oppilation: the act of crowding or filling together, an obstruction, particularly in the lower intestines.
Occultation: the state of being hidden from view or lost to notice.
Conciliation: the action of stopping someone from being angry; placation, the action of mediating between two disputing people or groups.re settled through conciliation by the official body”

These are additional rhyming words added by me. None of them obscure, so no definitions necessary:  anticipation elation trepidation education excitation castigation machination station ration.

4 A.M.

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4 A.M.

The old cat yowls a caustic moan—a banshee’s rough lament.
It rips my slumber wide apart. My gentle dream is rent.
A night comprised of eight-hours sleep would now seem heaven-sent.
My friends urge euthanasia, but I’m of another bent.

I toast the bread and spread the jam. I let my coffee vent,
then take a sip and watch the cat sip oil but not dent
the surface of the tiny can of shrimp and cod I’ve bent
to plop into my grandma’s dish that was never meant
to house a meal for animals—that family heirloom leant
power by its years of use—everywhere it went.

No human family member can know the full extent
of what this antiquated vessel means in its descent.
It is a loving blessing. A secret grand event—

a little ceremony to honor her ascent
to wherever old cats go when it’s time to absent
themselves from an easy life that’s turned into torment.

Why can I not cut loose the cord? I am a dissident
regarding being left once more. Those other loves that went
more silent into that good night, finally content,
somehow have not prepared me for this coming event.
I cannot be the agent hastening her demise.
The cat and I return to bed to close our stubborn eyes.

 

Prompt words for today are comprise, tout, lament, antiquated and bread.