NPM 2011: Prompt 5

22 thoughts on “NPM 2011: Prompt 5

  1. my knees hurt
    each day in new places
    like that Jennifer Grey on that dancing program
    what’s it called.
    Fifty years old she was
    doing the splits like a seven-year-old.
    She had the knees, too,
    but you wouldn’t know it to look at her.

    and with that, the bench settled and sighed
    warming against the cool morning.
    Andrea´s last blog post ..poemaday 4

  2. By Our Friend

    For years,
    Each evening
    We walk, but these days
    The walk grows shorter;
    Her old bones hurt–
    So we sit, rest, wait;
    And she crosses her paws
    Her kind eyes watch us,
    And we wish her sun
    would not soon set, not
    This evening
    At least.

  3. An empty bench,
    Built for two,
    Beckons in the waning light.

    If I take a seat
    Would my action encourage someone to follow suit,
    Show my comfort in solitude and independence.
    And, instead lead him to walk away feeling
    Unneeded or unwanted.

    If the bench,
    Which was meant for two,
    Holds the promise of a journey traveled together,
    Should I not instead,
    Ask for someone to marvel in the evening
    Side by side,
    On the bench?

  4. “The Green, The Tender”

    I might sit down on the opposite side
    of a Formica-topped table, and I might see
    the flecks of color in the pattern like constellations
    sparking, and the coffee rings that looked like planets
    you had haphazardly placed over the years.

    I might wait impatiently for the coffee to brew,
    the percolator marking time, and forgive me,
    I might not be able to wait to gnaw the corners
    of a windmill cookie, eating the fan blades first
    to leave only a place I might live, with a window.

    I might ask to use the last bit of milk
    to watch it swirl in the brown, and I might marvel
    at the Corelle wear cup, how it could never crack
    all the while knowing not to test this claim
    I want to believe in the unbreakable.

    And after a spell, I might return with you
    to a hill where you planted each spring,
    I might marvel at you there, conducting the dirt
    wearing a threadbare cotton dress
    hoe in hand, gently tending, taming.

    I might remember the seeds
    in your hands, and how they scattered
    into rows like children awaiting a lesson
    something along the lines
    of growing tall and straight.

    I might remember asking you
    what kinds of flowers these might be,
    but I won’t remember what you told me
    in response, only the sweeping of your hands
    upon your apron and the indelible mark of dirt.

    I might do all of these, if I were young,
    instead, the best I might be able to do
    is bring this gift to you, not of my tending,
    but from some seed planted by other hands,
    an offering, a conversation starter.

    But I can be sure of this—that I will remember
    these places are for kneeling, and to linger
    too long is a promise of supplanting,
    you might inspect my palms to note
    they are still tender; I have forgotten so much.

    After some time in this place,
    my knees might press into the grass
    leaving a temporary impression resembling a heart
    and earth might say softly, “Remember your root,
    your season, and you will know how and when to flower.”

  5. One More

    I’ll bring the Co’Cola
    in bottles wet with cold
    and peanut butter cups,
    melty in the sunshine

    meet you in the park soon
    meet you and your new shoes

    we can talk
    about the girlfriend you never met
    and the woman I married instead

    or the Thursday and the turkey
    or the van ride and the turnkey

    and the son you left too soon
    and the man that he became

    It took a long time.

    There’ll be no squeak of leather
    no stuffy furnace hiss
    no wicker swing

    no park to walk to like your park no longer

    but we take what we can
    when we can
    when we can’t not

    just Co’ Cola and chocolate
    just pictures and sunshine

    just one more
    just one time

    please sun, don’t go down
    please sir, don’t go home

    please Dad come, too

    (come soon)

  6. Web

    Let me tell you a secret.

    I lied.

    That night when you asked me what was wrong.
    I was in a strange bed in a strange state.
    It was dark downstairs
    because you had closed the door at the bottom.

    Still awake? you asked.
    Nightmares, I lied.

    Dad was on the road,
    headed back to L.A. for Mom and the rest of our things.
    Now I wonder how we could have had enough
    in those thin times for more than one trip.

    Then TV won’t be good for you.
    And you closed the door again.

    I wasn’t having bad dreams,
    just wanted to be close to someone who sort of
    felt like my mom
    and loved me like only grandmas do.

    I lied and lost my moment.
    Don’t think I ever got it back.

    If I had a park bench that let me have you back,

    I would sit for days and listen,
    even if you didn’t speak,
    I would listen to you.

    For days on that park bench,
    I would tell the truth.

    Let me tell you a secret.
    I lied.
    Stephanie Elliott´s last blog post ..Poemaday 5- Web

  7. All falls down,

    You were closer to me than my breath, but now

    My love is like the sun in this moment,

    It is the moment of sunset,

    It is the moment that all falls down,

    the sun, the light, the temperature, and the love.

    All falls down

    You squandered my love

    All falls down.

  8. Times flies like Concord, its been ten years

    when the sun sets , the sound of the birds

    the wind blowing from the west to the east.

    when you carry me on your arms jump with me

    we run around the park with your small advice mumbling into my ears

    which will i never forget. suddenly, the thing that every one hates

    took you very fast.

  9. I wish I had seen you

    I wish grand-father I could,

    my heart is tumultuously hurting

    I don’t think you should,

    I always dream about you

    and I think it is something good,

    I miss you grand-father

    I miss the neighborhood,

    I wish I have seen you

    I wish grand-father I could.
    Yasir Ammar Jalal´s last blog post ..Extra credit post 3

  10. One day,
    during the sunset,
    I went out with my favorite niece to the garden,
    we ate, drank, and played
    And at the end,
    While talking with my friend
    She started singing
    Her innate talent was surprising
    It was really a very fantastic day!!

  11. I’ve had a dream,
    Of you and me,
    Sitting on the bench

    I’ve seen a life,
    With you and me,
    Sitting on the bench

    I’ve experienced nightmares
    Of not you, but me
    Where you’re not on the bench

  12. The Bench

    For years
    He sat on the bench

    Watching the leaves blow
    Listening to children laugh
    Thinking about the future
    Praying for forgiveness
    Wiping away the tears

    All while holding her hand

    He sits on the bench
    waiting for her

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