New poems

I just submitted the chapbook I created as a result of the November poem a day challenge. The prompts were creative and varied. And, I swear I tried to limit writing poems about Paul to a bare minimum. But, as usual I couldn't help myself. And, since this is his birthday week, it's fitting to post those now while I'm here in my office in what used to be his room. And, as always he is very much on my mind. It turns out I wrote four Paul poems out of the 30 poems I wrote last month - not too bad for me, usually a one-subject poet.

November PAD 6 – someone (or something) covered

The rabbi sets the baggie of ashes
into the tiny grave
and we, shovel by shovel,
cover him with dirt.
After a year we lay a gravestone
on top of the bare earth
as an added protective cover.
I return to that gravesite
two times a year –
on his birthday and his death day,
always wishing I could
lift off that granite stone
and dig away the dirt.
I wish I could uncover my boy,
reach inside that baggie,
take those ashes into the palms of my hands
and transform them
back into the son
I lost so many years ago.

November PAD 10 – a love poem

What do you do with love
for someone who is gone?
Where do you put it?
How do you contain it?
I haven’t learned yet
after 10 years to stop
loving my boy
who left us
by his own free will.
I love him as if he were
with me right now
and not in the cold ground.

November PAD 21 – an invention poem

Bach’s Two-part Inventions

As a girl I was enthralled by Bach.
I would practice his inventions over and over
on my piano
never tiring of the intricacies
of his compositions.
When my son, Paul,
started to take piano lessons
I introduced him to Bach
and he too, played the inventions.
He integrated them into his daily pratice routine
and made them sound so much better than I ever did.
It was if Bach had invented his inventions
just for him.


November PAD 22 – an emergency poem

There are no more emergencies.
After my son’s suicide death
and the calls to 911,
police and fire emergency vehicles
blasting their sirens
as they came down our street,
strangers stomping through our house
looking for evidence,
breaking him out of the shower enclosure,
then taking him in a body bag
to the coroner’s for more investigation,
nothing is an emergency anymore.
Nothing else could top that.
So, I stay calm and collected
and take things as they come.
There are only little worries now,
nothing I can’t overcome.