Alive, or: Dead

‘We are teachers to our grandchildren’, a d’Verse free verse poem

He was supposed to teach
  her math and now 
he fucking won't because he's ~

We? What 'We'? Is this the 
collective
  'We who take being alive 
for granted' or 
  'We who are not to live again 
salute you - No - just 
kidding! We're ~

He was supposed to teach her math!
  He was supposed to 
be here. Today.
  He was supposed to 
wish me a happy birthday.
  He was not 
supposed 
to be ~

I grew a longer beard after Papa 
died
  Not shaving 
is a Jewish 
mourning tradition, you know 
(did you?)
And it makes me look
  older. 
  (Good - because I am!) 
I have some white 
hairs in it; some day 
  they will all be white 
and I hope 
to be 
  buried that way 
  
    when I am ~

Don't tell me that Papa
is teaching her
  through me. He's not.
He's not teaching 
her math;
  he's not teaching 
her 
  anything - because he's fucking ~

It's my birthday and -
  I'll ~
  I'll ~

The above poem is my take on d’Verse’s ‘travels in the wild’ prompt.

d’Verse gave us a selection of potential titles for our poems, and let us do the rest.

‘AB’, or: Negative

‘The Dude abides’, a d’Verse Quadrille

Above an abyssal abime 
abide abeles; and abelmosks 
abound, abloom, ablush, abutted by 
abandoned aboriginal abbey, absent 
absconded abbots. 

An ablegate abroad abreacts absorbedly; 
aborted aborning abracadabras are 
abomas abiding about 
his abdomen. 

Aboulia abidingly absterged; 
abhorrent abuses absolved, ablins, 
in ablutions of absinthe. 

The above poem is my take on d’Verse’s Quadrille challenge #117.

The quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words (excluding the title), and it can take any form. This week’s challenge was to use the word “abide” in a quadrille.

Pleiades, or: ‘Whatever’

Pleiades – a poetic form

Only one word is allowed in the title of the poem, followed by a single seven-line stanza. The first word in each line begins with the same letter as the title. The line length is restricted to six syllables.

The poetic form is aptly named: the seven lines can be said to represent the seven sisters, and the six syllables represent the nearly invisible nature of one sister.

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Whatever came of my
Wretched inspiration
Which once welcomed ev'ry
Word ~ letter ~ syllable
With endless wonderment
Worthy of those Sisters
Who all had their own ways?

Am, Are, or: Always

no doors in walls to Keep out fear
 just: Look and See, but no walls there...
  once structures, now Convulsing lines
   there's Is, there's Was, less timeless rhymes
    no what, no I, but only Am
     Am Flail for textures; Whisper, "damn..."
      unbearable, Am's Feels Are Galled
       Walled in, Crawling, no space at all!

nouns swiftly Twisting into verbs
 Think straight! no theater left to Be absurd
  Am Think, Think Knows, and on it Goes...
   and then: Am Start. "Do Are Suppose?"
    Are Could Aid Am by Opening...
     the... the... constantly Creaking th...ing?
      Are Know... what... Am... Am Trying to Say...
       dear, Grab the Turns and Pull that... way...

Hope Looks; Look Sees; See Steps; Step Lands-
 Am find myself in Are's... dear hands?
  hands warm... Hands firm, Hands' Form confirms
   Convulsions slow; Walls' Lines conform...
    are... You... am I... I... feared I'd die
     before I... held You one last Time...
      I... want... to say... I've come to see...
       That... You and I... We'll al...ways... be...
   

H/T @Joni

H/T @João-Maria

Watch, or: Don’t

It is my Papa's watch
Now it is not his watch
I did not use to wear a watch
And now again I wear no watch
But I did

Chronos notches Aion's 
Endless hours and minutes
Did his scythe cut Kairos down?
Blind hands feel for 
Fate's flinty face
To finitude they're now attuned
Though it's been said time heals all wounds
Blind hands feel for Fate's flinty face

There's a truth I'd so like to share
With the folks who haven't been there
I knew not pain, but then it came and named me heir
So perhaps you will find me
Spinning clockwise endlessly
I've bared my wrist, 
But found naught there to set me free
I've tried but cannot unknow
The fleetingness of this grand show... 
Although, although... 
Although... 
Although...

Chronos notches Aion's 
Endless hours and minutes
Did his scythe cut Kairos down?
Blind hands feel for 
Fate's flinty face
To finitude they're now attuned
Though it's been said time heals all wounds
Blind hands feel for Fate's flinty face

It is my Papa's watch
Now it is not his watch
I did not use to wear a watch
And now again I wear no watch
But I did

Through my mind's eye I can see
Ancient venerable ancestry
That lived and died as Jews 
So that some day I could be free
A generation stands now (mine)
By merest chance or grand design
Through all those ages tryin', 
Our destinies yet intertwined
Today his watch face is looking at me-
Eternity could never be

Chronos notches Aion's endless hours and minutes
Did his scythe cut Kairos down?
Blind hands feel for 
Fate's flinty face
To finitude they're now attuned
Though it's been said time heals all wounds
Blind hands feel for Fate's flinty face

Distancing, or: Dancing

She dances- freely where air is music in her own home 
Fearful of green waters; of slickened thickening foam
Charting- studying; the Talmud, Torah -the course
Focus; stay sane; stay healthy; still... plunged into wet depths
Masked breaths through that heavy silent lullaby swift swept
Smothered in her queasy bubble uneasily reaching forth

She dances- stretching against taut sticky edges- viscous
Constricting restrictive her mind bears the risks of
Keeping- speaking with; old photographs -active
Routines; days drawn out into months nearing years
Broken; tears muffling the stuff of sacred scared prayers
Slumping into depression; not of God's flood this captive

She dances- as she once defied cruel capture by cancer
Fighting fierce not to ebb first; silence soaking; no answer

Kept, or: Captive

Captive, he was pulled, undone, his angst gripped tight his heart 
Swiftly, his tears dissolved into her darkening hues of night 
Ragged his face, thin weakly limbs, a forlorn, dreadful sight 
Should have, should have, should- have seen it from the very start

The stars had come out like lamplights that once upon a dark-
Above thick canopy floating, they lit up three lobed leaves-
Through branches, through the fireflies- he'd flitting flash perceived 
So innocent he'd been that night- mere children's game, a lark

Net swinging after glittering tail- on sudden, silly whim
Surprised, the boy uncupped his hands- saw sparkling gaseous star 
Unscrewing lid, he beckoned it- float up into the jar
Entranced, he felt light warmth pour in- and overflow his brim

Years, years rolled by, and bliss kept out his pervading sorrows
Always, always, there for him, for- him, for- no one else
He watched her growing and reddening and- kept her to himself 
When both blazed-gone, none saw a thing- she'd swallowed his morrows

H/T @Yassy