Holding on to what is real, rather than elusion,
Alluding to my narrow, if noble, perspective;
Presenting a pattern of objective confusion,
Perhaps it really is time for new directive.
Yearning for a moment frozen in time and space,
Never taking into account, potential consequence;
Each dawn has its day, then vanishes without a trace.
While I know it was there, I haven't seen it since,
You took it, laying rightful claim to what you own.
Eventually, life lines fade and become thread bare,
All too apparent when I look to find you are gone;
Reminders, like clues, are strewn about, everywhere.
Reckoning is a task I find altogether foreboding.
Of all advances taken, two steps forward and wait;
Seeing the final vestiges colliding, imploding,
Every step taken leads one to this certain fate.
For all I imagine, and that which I know to be true,
Running in place, from past, is all that makes sense.
Obstacles only impede if I choose to allow them to,
Much to my benefit, at present, I am easy to convince.
Moving forward requires us all to turn and gaze back,
Yet this lesson must be reminded, and learned again;
Keeping with the ancient order, staying on track,
Even a final dawn has its day to claim. What then?
Michael Todd (2013)
Disclaimer: If I have ever written a poem about the turning of a page on a calendar, as a new year commences, I don't recall. Maybe I am running out of things to write about. Possibly, I just overlooked the topic. Or maybe, a part of me hates to put the old year to rest, at best, passed and gone. Just call me sentimental.
While I adore the concept of a happy new year, and wish that, sincerely, for any and everyone I know... there are few things that make me happy. But, the upside to that is that what does make me happy has a great impact. And, more importantly, who can make me happy can do so with minimal effort. I do not require a detailed directive. Just point me in the right direction. That is all I need.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Ice Cream Letters (for Lainey)
Send me ice cream letters, post marked no later than a Tuesday,
to afford me something special to look forward to on a weekend.
If I get in a rush to open one up, to review and see what you say,
A potential paper cut, small price to pay, to read what you send.
Send me ice cream letters, covering any subject matter of your choosing,
Be it anecdotal in nature, or dwell on random whimsy of your design.
Touch on your dark side if it makes you feel better, although amusing
is preferred. If you're happy, I'm happy, so I'd rather you enlighten.
Send me ice cream letters, to warm my heart, at your discretion,
I have seven empty picture frames, hanging in tandem on my North wall;
Their spots reserved until such time, you send a rendered interpretation;
Once the letters are framed, I'll seal them with adhesive, to never fall.
Send me ice cream letters, seemingly insignificant to you, "Just a note..."
from your perspective, but to me, they are the ultimate ever end all:
Sprinkled with epiphanies, infatuations, intuitions... so much to quote;
Sent from your heart to your hand, on to me, your deemed port of call.
Send me ice cream letters, should you be inclined, towards me proffer,
Or make a request, you'll find me altogether amenable at point of contact,
and thanking you sincerely for the opportunity, your more than kind offer.
Or, if you open with "I don't need a thing," you will still make an impact.
Send me ice cream letters, with the envelope exterior displaying SWAK,
and maybe a heart and arrow combo, you know how I love your illustration.
Still, getting down to the heart of the matter, not on the front or back,
But what's inside, when I fold back the flap, that makes an impression.
Send me ice cream letters, if you've the time and it goes well with you.
You don't know how they raise my spirits and help to pass time, or delay.
I revel in your success, despair in you failings, in all you say and do;
Thanks in advance for your correspondence; hurry soon and send one my way.
Michael Todd (2013)