Clouded

It's Poetry Friday.  

I've not been here in a while - posts have been sporadic, visits to other blogs have been scanty.  

I apologize for being neglectful.  

It's been, as with everyone, a different time, different in so many ways for so long, that I've come to expect the unexpected at every turn.  But there are breaks in the difficulties that make you remember you know how to smile and how to laugh, and when to dance. Lol, dancing has been a long time coming!  But I kicked (albeit gently) a soccer ball with my grandson.

I've posted mostly on FB lately, not a venue I had been using much.  But I've done a Squiggle and a Poem every day up until this week when I missed a day.  Playing catch up.

I hope everyone is well and safe!  

I am fine and recovering and mostly feeling positive.  

Sometimes though, a myriad of things attempt to weigh me down.  I'm still getting up.

Clouded

ever clouded

the way is not clear

and I fear

that I hurt as much

as I hurt

I would wish away

the hurt

I would wish away 

the cloud

so loud

fearsome thunderous

it is

I would wish

the tears of strain

would not sting

but they do

that the skies 

would blue shine

and I could see

you seeing

but it's clouded

and it hurts

I want the hurt

to not be

for

Anyone

ever

never clouded

anymore

ever

except for

that one cloud

over there

in the shape of a heart

that can stay

by Donna JT Smith, 5/29/2020

More Poetry Friday links may be found at Mary Lee Hahn's A Year of Reading.

A Squiggle and a Poem

For much of the month of April I have been doing a Squiggle and a Poem...

The process involves very little time.  I simply get my iPhone, go to Notes, get the Markup open and make sure I'm on black marker.  Then I close my eyes and make a squiggle on the screen.  I give myself about a minute to make some sort of sense to the squiggle and then begin using other colors to fill in the image I came up with.  When it is done, a poem emerges and I write that, often on my iPhone in the notes, sometimes on the computer or paper.  The poem is usually in one quick burst, though somedays I have to get up and get more coffee!  Or, as with this one, I got interrupted by who knows what, and it never got finished.  I finished it mostly last night, with just the last few lines of the poem eluding me until this morning.

Slick Kicks

I got new slippers, they’re the best,
Not beat up, torn up like the rest!
They keep my tootsies fireplace toasty,
Wrap my toes all cozy, roasty.
Don’t know why they call them slippers,
‘Cause on the bottoms they’ve got grippers.
“Take off those slippers, hop into bed;
Can’t sleep in slippers”, momma said.
So I slip them off, leave ‘em on the floor
Beside my bed always ready for more
Comfy foot time when I’m awake;
They even dance and shake, shake, shake!
These pantofles are the best thing yet.
You’ll have to look that up, I bet!

By Donna JT Smith, 4/30/2020