Who can know what memories we will find
As we go through the stuff in your closet,
All the treasures that you have left behind,
The ones you wished we would never forget.
We piled them up on the couches and chairs
So family could go through what you had
In the hope they could find fashion like theirs,
Thinking that their new homes would make you glad.
Not all items can find that special place,
So we will have to bag up all the rest
Because we are trying to make some space
For those left behind in this empty nest.
It is not that you will be forgotten
When we get rid of all that you’ve gotten.
Tag: sonnet
A Dog’s New Home
What is this strange new world I landed in
Filled with happy people beneath the trees?
It is nothing like the place I have been,
A paradise with a salty air breeze.
I will walk down the street to take it in,
Finding new smells, on the way, as I go.
The rush of traffic has a controlled din,
And they’re happy even when they go slow.
I have plenty of space on this sidewalk
Where I don’t have to worry about cars,
Giving me extra time to sniff and stalk,
Society free from restricting bars.
I cannot believe this utopia,
A dog’s favorite cornucopia.
Patio Politics
The summer was made for a patio
Connected to a neighborhood tavern.
It is where the beer taps can freely flow,
And we can ignore how the world will burn.
The television only airs sports shows,
And we can cheer for our favorite team.
It does not matter how the final goes
Because it distracts us from the obscene.
The locals chatter about their long day
As they struggle to put it behind them,
But is is better than watching the fray
Of a nation singing its final hymn.
We can stand up and attempt to compete
Against the government in its defeat.
Return to My Childhood
There is a pink building in west Lakewood
That draws crowds from all over the nation.
The cuisine they serve is not very good,
And bills have gone through a price explosion.
But it is hard to resist the cliff diver
Performing to a Mariachi band.
The roaming gorilla is the driver
For the amount of fun to be on hand.
They will keep your margarita glass filled,
So you can explore Black Bart’s Cave.
The puppet show is just as it is billed,
And the illusionist is all the rave.
My lost childhood is ready to meet ya
In the world famous Casa Bonita.
The Move
I know crazy is about to happen,
And this is the reprieve before it does,
So I breathe deeply to take the calm in
Before we return to the way it was.
The hours starting at seventy-two
Will count slowly down until we arrive,
Washing away the day and the flight we flew,
Not to mention the long cross-country drive.
There will be arguments along the way;
Instead, we will remember the laughter,
For we will need that for a later day
When struggles are what we need to ‘counter.
It is something bigger than a road trip
Rather it’s our life going through a flip.
Summer Bar-b-q
As the sun hangs over the horizon,
And the swelter of the day fades away,
I look for comfort with meat on a bun,
And a beer with its glistening display.
I have put away all of my papers;
Their beckoning can wait another day,
The eternal workload never tapers,
And right now, it is time for me to play.
On this porch, I’ve gathered my closest friends
To help forget about the week-long fray;
Instead, to think about where the week ends,
And how within it, I would like to stay.
So let’s enjoy the simplest of meals
To engage in this time we get to steal.
Airport Reunion
The crowds continually flow out the gate
Into the city which they landed in.
I look at each new face to indicate
The memory of the one who has been
In my mind since the last time I saw her.
It takes a trip to the local airport
To initiate the loneliness cure
That my heart has recently had to court.
But the passengers keep passing me by
Not showing the face of the one I love,
So I scab the crowd until I descry
That she has returned from her flight above.
I am always amazed by this strange feat
When we find that moment when our eyes meet.
The Last Day of School
When you have put in the all the final grades,
And cleaned the papers from your cluttered room;
You can watch as the year’s memory fades
As the potential of the summer blooms.
Will you ever remember this school house
When the key turns on last time in the lock,
And the neon hallway lights have been doused,
Ticking the last moments of the clock?
The next year, they will start it up again
With a new face there to greet the students,
And there might be some who recall a when
Where you were there, a part of those present.
It is a bittersweet kind of goodbye
When the time has come to go off and fly.
Rainy Sundays
O! To have one of those rainy Sundays
Where the remote finds itself in my hand,
And my mind seeks comfort in a deep haze
Because nothing for me, anyone planned.
I may have to wander to the kitchen
To satisfy my grumbling stomach
With a bowl full of quick junk food fixin’s,
And a cold beverage I had to make.
Sometimes I will look outside the window
At the dark cloud threatening to drop rain,
And since I have no place I need to go,
I do not need to bother to complain.
I will nestle further into my chair
To spend all this day not giving a care.
Summer Bar B-Q
The smell of chicken wafts over the grill,
Blending with the puffy cloud afternoon.
The sweat of the bottle matches the thrill
Of not having anything to do soon.
A cool breeze feels good against my bare skin,
And I join it by rocking in my chair.
I watch the sun curve to the mountain rim
As it will soon become my only care.
I enjoy sharing this meal with loved ones
During the early part of the summer
Because I know how it is that time runs
Where there’s few moments we can number.
We must make the most of the ones we can
To live fully within our short life span.
John Collings 