Tag Archives: Poetry

#FlashFictionFriday: Oregon Sunset (reprise)

We sat on the beach near the fire,

Two old people bundled against the cold Oregon sunset.

Friends we’d never met fished the surf,

Children and dogs ran at waves’ edge.

Red sky, red mist, red sunset. Fire, water, wind, and you.

 

Wind whipped my hair, gray and uncut,

Tore it from its inept braid,

August wind, chill inside my hood, but I remained,

Pleased to be with you, and pleased to be on that beach.

 

The sea roared loud, filling my ears,

My blood and

My heart,

And where ever you are that is my beach,

My ocean, my sunset.

 

Mist rose with the tide, closed in and enfolded us,

Blotting out the falling stars and,

Laughing at our folly,

We dragged our weary selves back to our digs,

Rented, but with everything two old people needed.

 

The gas fire warmed me

And you warmed me,

And these memories warm me now

When snow blankets our inland valley

And Oregon seems far, far away.

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#FlashFictionFriday: Talisman (reprise)

 

Talisman

 

The evening sun lingers,

Red, golden,

Unwilling to set.

 

Time seems to stop.

This moment

Will be a talisman,

 

Hanging in my heart.

Warming me

When winter’s fist is closed.


Talisman, Copyright © 2017 Connie J Jasperson, All rights reserved, originally published Apr. 7, 2017 on Life in the Realm of Fantasy, http://conniejjasperson.com

Puget Sound Sunset, By Vladimir Menkov (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC BY 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

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#FlashFictionFriday: Stolen Heaven

Hydrangea_cropped_July_11_2017_copyright_cjjasperson_2017 copy

Sunlight gently falling

On blue,

Lighting the green

Branches that support you,

Leaves that frame you.

Blue the color of

Heaven on good day,

Framed by a green

Limes would envy.

Sleep eluded me and

I was there at dawn,

Witnessing the splendor of

Heaven,

Stolen for a few brief moments

And illuminated by the sun.


Attributions:

Hydrangea © Connie J. Jasperson 2017 (author’s own photo)

Stolen Heaven © Connie J. Jasperson 2017

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#FlashFictionFriday: Tomorrow will be better

Morning came

Along with the bandages and healing,

Along with your frustration and helplessness.

Morning came

And I, as your mother, tended your wounds.

You didn’t ask for this burden.

You didn’t do anything wrong.

You didn’t cause epilepsy.

Tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow your wounds will be healed

Even if your ego isn’t.


Tomorrow Will Be Better, © Connie J. Jasperson 2017, All Rights Reserved

Photo credit: After a great sun rise, Photographer: Simon Eugster, SSA CCA 3.0 Licence: {{GFDL}} via Wikimedia Commons

If you or a loved one are suffering from a seizure disorder, the Epilepsy Foundation has resources for you http://www.epilepsy.com/

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#FlashFictionFriday: Quiet of an Early Summer Morning

Passer_insularis_Smit

The quiet of

An early summer

Morning

Sinks into my soul,

Warming my spirit like coffee.

 

At twelve past five

The birds are present,

Singing,

Songs of love, poems of war

While I appreciate my coffee.

 

Feathered beings

Living swift and fierce,

Passionately,

As summer waxes into fall

And I enjoy my coffee.


Quiet of an Early Summer Morning, by Connie J. Jasperson © 2017 Connie J. Jasperson, All Rights Reserved.

Depiction of the Socotra Sparrow, from its description in the Proceedings of the Scientific Meetings of the Zoological Society of London. Female above, male below. Joseph Smit 1881 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

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#FlashFictionFriday: Ballad of Jennet Adair (reprise)

Jennet, she lies

‘Neath the white rose tree

And never again will she

Play false to me

 

T’was not my hands

Round her lily-white throat

But would that I could

Drown her deep in the moat

 

Her hair was as dark

As summer is fair

Her lips were for kissing

Sweet Rose of Adair

 

Jennet, she lies

‘Neath the rose tree white

My brother will hang

For her murder tonight

 

Jennet, she lies

‘Neath the white rose tree

Never again will

Those lips lie to me

 

T’was not my hands

Round her lily-white throat

She ruined my brother

She ruined us both

 

Played us like pawns

In the age-old game

Until she did misstep

To her sorrow and shame

 

My brother will hang

‘Neath the town hall light

And who will tell mother

What happened tonight?

 

Jennet, she lies

‘Neath the white rose tree

And never again will she

Play false to me.


Ballad of Jennet Adair © Connie J. Jasperson 2016-2017, All Rights Reserved

The Ballad of Jennet Adair by Connie J. Jasperson was first published July 31, 2015 on Edgewise Words Inn, as a song her character, Huw the Bard, might have written. It is a story poem, written in a traditional, bardic style, and was inspired by the Child Ballads collected in the 19th century by Francis James Child.

Bouquet of Roses at the Window, Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller 1892 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

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#FlashFictionFriday: Rain Falling on a Young Girl’s Face

Here_comes_rain_again

Rain falling on a young girl’s face,

Falling down, down,

Rolling down, down.

Went where she shouldn’t.

Broke the rules,

Broke their trust,

Broke her dreams,

And all because he seemed so nice.

Too young to drink, but drank too much,

Said no, she wouldn’t,

Said, no, he couldn’t,

Said no, he shouldn’t,

When he pressed her,

When he forced her,

When he mocked her.

Rain falling on a young girl’s face,

Falling down, down,

Rolling down, down.

Punished her for breaking the rules.

Can’t bear the shame,

Can’t bear the guilt,

Can’t face her family.

Rain falling down, down her face.

Who will raise her up?

Who will sooth her pain?

Who will say “It’s not your fault?

“He had no right.

“He had no right.

“You broke the rules, but He had no right.”

Rain falling on a young girl’s face,

Falling down, down,

Rolling down, down.


Sources and Attributions

Rain Falling on a Young Girl’s Face © 2017 Connie J. Jasperson

National Sexual Assault Hotline (No matter who you are–woman, man, or child–you are not alone: click https://www.rainn.org/ or call 800-656-HOPE)

Image: Here Comes the Rain Again, By Juni from Kyoto, Japan (Flickr) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

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#FlashFictionFriday: Old Man Walking

Rembrandt_Harmensz._van_Rijn_070

Old man walking to the tavern

No license, mumbling.

Saw too many things

Knows too many things

War is one of those things.

Old man riding to the tavern

A young boy’s bike.

Lost his license

Lost his mind

Lost his self-respect.

Old man walking to the tavern

No license, mumbling.


Old Man Walking, by Connie J. Jasperson, © 2017 All Rights Reserved.

Head of a Bearded Man (Manner of Rembrandt) after circa 1630 [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

If you or a loved one are a wounded veteran and are struggling with PTSD, call Vet to Vet Assistance 888-777-4443 or log onto the National Veterans Foundation https://nvf.org/about-national-veterans-foundation/

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#FlashFictionFriday: Talisman

Talisman

 

The evening sun lingers,

Red, golden,

Unwilling to set.

 

Time seems to stop.

This moment

Will be a talisman,

 

Hanging in my heart.

Warming me

When winter’s fist is closed.


Talisman, Copyright © 2017 Connie J Jasperson, All rights reserved

Puget Sound Sunset, By Vladimir Menkov (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC BY 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

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#FlashFictionFriday: Silence and Love

Silence and Love

There was a time when we talked,

A time when words connected us the way kisses join lovers.

You mind amazed me as much as your body did

And I knew them both better than I knew my own.

You still amaze me but years have wedged silence between us.

Not the stony silence of anger or hurt—thank god, not that.

 

It is the silence of comfortableness,

The soundless speech of two old people

who sometimes read each other’s minds.

The quiet sharing of a back porch in the summer.

Side-by-side on a second-hand settee with a blue cushion,

You reach for my hand, and I am swept away.

 

Now when we speak, it is a more cerebral sharing,

Mind to mind, heart to heart,

Two old people still in love, but with little to say.

Did we say it all in the young wild days?

Did we spend our words the way we spent our kisses?

If so, then many more remain, waiting to pass between us.

 

No. We were learning each other, discovering truths

and facing our self-deceptions.

Now it is a calm sharing.

I still know your mind and your body

and love them better than my own.

I still love it when you hold my hand.

 

And when we speak it means something.

And when we kiss it means something.

And when we hold hands in the silence

Of an evening on a back porch,

Side-by-side on a second-hand settee with a blue cushion,

It means everything.


Credits and Attributions:

Silence and Love © Connie J. Jasperson 2015–2017, All Rights Reserved (First Published Nov. 13, 2015 on Life in the Realm of Fantasy)

Sun in May, Józef Mehoffer 1911 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

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