Travel Into that Good Light Dale Schierbeck Down down, travel into that good light Our youth burnished new with the rising day Run,run away from the birth of the night. Tangled in the ignorance of the fight Between a divide and an entrance way Down down, travel into that good light. Good dog, loyal and…
Enter Leo
You are a master criminal a canine thief you’ve stolen the rug under my feet once steady in grief memories you’ve rappelled burgled my bed cunningly chewed through a rawhide safe camouflaged yourself in dirt vandalising my garden my chair my everywhere entwined you in me two…
Again
You are here today Again now upon my lap my hands in you when you passed into a tomorrow today yesterday is Again born into a day birthday candles extinguished with a spark a bark peals back the dark your face printed on your name you awake the silence with a look a belly rub…
Preparing My Heart
Heart wounded cage fetched opens heals Open Ben’s toybox leashed old memories Remembering smells warmth paws popcorn pats Pawprint captured clay pressed into palm Into muzzle nuzzles love melts pain Love forgive me wholeness renewed held New puppy licks tenderness — forever’s kiss. ∞ Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo). Today’s…
Outdoors
I’m carried — we’re carried, nine of us, one by one — in a nurturing arm 13 and half paces from front door to a wrap-around porch from four weeks, three days and a piece of remnant carpet and the 2×6 walls of fir the box of our birth to a confined space of black…
Autumn Thief
Paw prints cling to air Memory touches golden fur Dry ash coats my mouth Weeping salt stings sight Your breath, still, falls on my heart Autumn you’re a thief. ∞ Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo). Today’s prompt: write a poem that: Is specific to a season Uses imagery that relates to…
Letting Go
When to let go? when do I …? when does the holding on stop being pain and become a habit of always checking the door before bed always running a fork through my fish always hanging an ornament given by someone you don’t even remember of dusting dog bowls four years empty — when does…
My Phantom Limb
A phantom limb I feel your pain gone and dead. I walk with a limp now four years a broken limb ripped from my trunk weathered wormed worn gone and dead. A limb warm still beating and bursting golden into a sky ready to burst with tears still rustling through my fingers. A limb that…
Memory’s — — Space
Today — — you rest remembered — — in — — a space — — a place of sand — — and ash pawprints — — upon — — an urn a soft spot a safe — — sojourn waiting — — having left — — me listening — — to your memories — —…
Possessing Loss: Remembering Ben
I’d never realized that loss is such a complicated and nuanced concept. I thought you either had something or you didn’t — that something is either possessed or it is lost. I figured the only complication would be if something is misplaced. But over the last year, I’ve discovered that loss is something that can…
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