Each Dream Casts Its Lot
I stood and pondered the world,
That part of me still a child,
And wondered where dreams go
When outgrown, lost, or defiled.
Would they float away to another's mind
Or burn out like a sun?
Might dreams take form in other lands,
Subconscious battles lost and won?
Or are they put away inside,
A deeply slumbering seed of light,
A hope ignored, but not destroyed,
Surviving, entombed in our sense of right?
My dreams in dirt I dare not touch
Lest the shiver of shame fill my body and soul,
Existence I know and deny in one breath,
My damaged parts, all part of the whole.
And the dreams almost grasped,
Jerked away but a sigh from fulfilled
Leaving raw, aching need,
Longing for planting, like soil freshly tilled.
And the dreams that seem foolishness,
First goals laid stark in the logic of later age,
Proving Summer's wish is Winter's regret
To be pondered in self-convicted rage.
So many dreams seem simply lost,
And ne'er stumbled over in paths of thought,
In places once treasured, but no longer visited,
To fate and to time, each dream casts its lot.
© 2009 Jerri Hardesty
Memories of Lori
A very special miss indeed
Always minding the rules of etiquette
Whether as a child or as an adult
Her introductions were impressive
Books were always “her thing”
As well as chocolate and Mexican food
Big Brother Brad taught her shoe tying,
Clarinet playing, and how to drive a car.
never one to miss a party
Her heart brimmed with gold
Just like Frank Sinatra’s song,
Lori did everything “her way.”
She’s still “up there”
Solving those crossword puzzles
And writing in her journals
Even as a star shining in the ebony sky.
© 2009 Marian Knesek