What FLutters On The Line

IMG_3446Late afternoon sun warming a wind
fluttering scarves she had hung
on the line to dry.
There is not enough green
to call it full spring,
so the brightest colors come
from a yellow scarf
one with red roses
scattered in no particular pattern
and another with pink flowers
on a field of blue,
both gently used and well worn.
She is most fond of a handkerchief
that had belonged to her father.
Years ago she had washed it,
along with a red sweater,
it remained a pinkish red all this time.
She loves that handkerchief
because it reminds her of the day
he had discovered her mistake
and found her crying with embarrassment.
Rather than be angry
he had scooped her up into his arms
and forgiven her completely
although, he never really let it go
reminding her of that fiasco often
even when she was a woman
with children of her own.
He’d call her to say it was red hankie day.
They’d laugh sharing that memory.
She uses it herself now that he is gone
A bright treasure fluttering in the wind
today, still imbued with her father’s love,
remains a lovely shade of red.

©04/19/2019
Judith A. Sears

Inspiration for this poem was a watercolor painting I did in a painting class I took with my friend Kathy. To my knowledge I never mistakenly turned my fathers handkerchief red. That is not to say that I would have never done such a thing. My father forgave me plenty of other things.  I gave this painting to my mother on her 91st birthday, she’s forgiven me many things, too,   jas

Delusional

 
Drawing by Dan Panosian

He knew they were behind him, 
just there to his left. 
He glanced down at his empty hand,
what should have been there, was lost.
His wits, his only weapons now. 
So, unsure about so much 
he knew he didn’t appear ready,
but he could be swift and agile. 
He’d surprise, this yet unseen menace.
They’d expect him to run, 
but he’d turn rapidly, sweeping
his fisted hands, landing hard fast blows,
knocking them off balance. 
He pictured it all so clearly 
as he stood there gazing 
at his empty hand, wondering 
where he had lost it. 
What had it been? 
He was very suspicious
of who might be following him,
if someone was following him. 
Feeling so much more than lost, now
and completely alone.
He stood quietly suspecting
that reality was only a trick
like images inked 
on a tinted page
deceptively enlightening.

©04/17/2019
Judith A. Sears

“Delusional’ was written in homage to a drawing Dan Panosian posted on social media. I was looking for something, a prompt, to help me write the last 100 or so words of my daily 1,000 word goal. The drawing inspired me to write about a possibly very confused person. That is probably not at all what Dan had in mind. All that he had said about it was that it was a ‘work in progress.’ I sent Dan a rough first draft of this poem and asked if it would be possible to use his image on my Website. Not only was he kind enough to respond to my request, he also granted me permission to use this fantastic drawing.

Dan Panosian is an American graphic design, comic book, advertising and storyboard artist. He is known as @urbanbarbarian on social media and he hosts The Original Drink and Draw Social Club livestream on YouTube. jas

Spring Forward

purple shirt

Today I wore my purple shirt
or maybe it was plum on Saturday
I don’t know, it’s cotton and comfortable
the sleeves are extra long
it’s just the right amount of warm
Today, there seems to be an amazing
amount of softly hushed gray outside
there are puffy white clouds
drifting at a nice pace across the sky
there is the occasional bright patch
always off in the distance so you never
see the blue sky you’re expecting
Today, all I possess seems to be in shadow
those fleeting sunny moments
never venturing close enough
to kiss my stuff or hold me close
no spotlight on me which is just as well
I’ve no desire for the attention
Today they seized control of time
with the power to make us change our clocks
stealing an hour like we were wrong
to want that early morning sun
so who can blame today for being gray
in my own purplish sort of way
a promised extra hour of evening light
means nothing to me on this overcast eventide.

Judith A. Sears
©03/10/2019

It’s funny, I’m not a rebellious sort of person but I would champion the cause of never having to change our clocks again.

The Expanding Celestial Sphere

equidistant from my Earth my
great Earth the exact center
of all dark space
between every point of light
I thought my vision showed me all
all beyond the ethereal sweep
of tilting galaxies
of restless suns
of measureless infinities
I see stars and their static
placement in my sky
like spangles on the dress
of ancient gods
but my tiny Earth is nestled here
like a shy marble nearly unnoticed
by the everything of everything
and I’m uncentered kneeling here
on the edge of the darkest dark
unable to hide only observing
what fills this perfectly clear evening sky
tonight I’m left unsatisfied wondering
what is but a small bit further than
where my eyes can see what is
just beyond the sphere of my imagination

Judith A. Sears
©03/01/2019

I have declared that uncentered is a word, so it is.
Inspiration for this from the WABASH COUNTY ASTRONOMICAL SOCIETY there is a video on facebook of me reciting these words.

Noises

Sitting here in the sun from my window
it is almost silent, I have to listen too hard
hearing snow land on what fell last night
it only whispers soft and hushed near silent
it’s the wind I miss, the summer wind
it’s the only appealing thing about summer
wind moving through fields of corn
it sounds like a river rushing over rocks
rivers that dream of being ocean waves
rolling from the sea to tickle the sand
water sounds, wind sounds, just noises
I wonder as the sun saves me
from this days icy air keeping me inside
I needed this morning to sing to me
I can’t seem to keep silent long enough
to hear this winter sun so I settle
for finally being warm in its light.

Judith A. Sears
©01/21/2019