The Game

[Guest Jennifer T]

With fevered brow and thoughts of war

Redeeming time, a settled score;

Again she calls, panicked and strewn

Her mind tormented, seeking too soon

What I cannot give. Yet in her state

Seeks resolution, but can’t abate

The childhood games; one up on you,

A repertoire played right on cue.

The phone still rings, forlorn at night

I close my eyes, ignore the plight.

And yet my heart does yearn to see

Her mind at rest, but can it be?

When life deals cards, we each our hand,

And calls to play a final stand

It beckons, “call,” as time draws near

and in its wake we loathe, we fear.

Knowing full well we cannot see

What we cannot hold or cannot be;

That shade of loss, a fearful plight

Someone of flesh of thought and sight

Whose vision clears and thoughts dispel;

A game surreal, we seek to quell.

I touch the pad; a familiar tone

It softly rings, “Noone at home.”

So for this night I lay to rest

Resolve and dread of my own quest.

And with the morrow I pray to see

A path more fair, a way to be

That light she needs, serene and calm;

And play the game, a reasoned psalm.

But with weary heart and wounded soul

And spoken truth my only goal

I pen these words, a hope to be

Much more than my soliloquy.

-Jennifer T.

[Sally]

Jennifer,

That was beautiful, I absolutely loved it.

It really make me think and at the same time is such a beautifully structured and easy to read poem that almost sings, a sad tune perhaps but it does sing.

The art of the rhyming couplet is not dead - merely sleeping.

Together we just might be able to wake it up.

Love ya,

Sally

[Guest Donna Jean]

Oh my goodnes....

That was nice ...even if a bit sad.....

But, I liked it...

Interesting rhyme patteren...

The art of the rhyming couplet is not dead - merely sleeping.

I agree with what Sally said!

HUGGS!

Donna Jean

[Guest Joanna Phipps]

I admire the skilled smith that can do such a thing, its beyond my meger skills to do such wonderfull work. Thank you for it, even if it made me cry

[Guest Jennifer T]

Thank you for the kind words. I'm glad you liked it.

[Guest Emily H]

What beautiful words dear, and spoken truly! Hang in there my sister, its what its all about.

~Andrea

[Guest Jennifer T]

“Broken”

In dreams and things

unknown to those

who do not view within

lie dormant thoughts and ponderings

for times and places when

one seeks to know the self

who dies

and calls to mind a song

of deeply yearning, longing hearts

for days when all was strong

Imprinted in the circuitry

of memories and dreams

Are visions of a way unknown

yet familiar, and it seems

That if we strive to touch the hem

of that we know must be

We stumble o’er the fruit of that

forbidden, gilded tree

that brought us to this place in time

where strife and pain abound

and angels with their broken wings

fall silent to the ground...

- Jennifer T

[Guest Jennifer T]

I've been sick the past few days. Last night was very feverish and I awoke many times through the night. And each time there she was. She always stands at the edge of my consciousness and beckons. But so much more so in my dreams; worse when they are feverish. A child who wants to grow up; a heart that wants to beat in the light of day; feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her face. So sad, so broken.

Sorry to resurrect such an old post; but my hearts aches this morning