Sorrow: a poem

Sorrow 
by Janet Muirhead Hill
(in memory of Florence Ore—a poem I wrote about a year ago as my dearest friend, mentor, and supporter was dying. She passed away on October 17, 2014)


Sorrow sits upon a shelf
high above my head.
Unwilling to see inside myself
I avoid what I most dread.

And so I find I do not feel.
My mind and body are numb.
The source of pain seems so unreal
that tears refuse to come.

To face another loss to death
is hard for me to do.
As I concentrate on my breath
I wish more life for you.

My dear friend, I love you so,
I don't want to say goodbye,
but I see that you must go
and in time, I know, I'll cry.

Night Life

Night Life, by Janet Muirhead Hill

A whole nother life, I live you see
When I am sleeping peacefully
A life of which I've not control
And yet I live there, heart and soul.

I immerse myself in what's going on
Until I wake, and then it's gone.
A dream journal, I do not keep
I just enjoy the life I have in sleep,

Adventures of all kinds and places
Known only in dreams: great open spaces
Houses with a million rooms
Nooks and crannies the size of tombs.

Sometimes I'm driving in a car
Or walking naked on a lonely bar.
Horses, birds and mythical creatures
Talk to me; become my teachers

I enjoy the life I live at night
Which slowly fades with the morning light.
For it takes some time when I awake
To determine which life is mine to make.

Resolutions

New Years Resolutions, by R. Grieves

New Year's resolutions?
Not making them this year,
For in mere months, sometimes days
I break them, that is clear.

Instead I'm setting goals
That are possible to achieve.
Things I want that I can control,
If only I believe.

I'm shunning rules full of don'ts
or promises I cannot keep
Like don't eat that, you will get fat.
Work harder; get more sleep.

Clean your houses and organize,
Be careful what you eat.
Instead I set this goal for me:
Be kind to everyone I meet.

And when it comes daily tasks
I'll give my very best
But will not flagellate myself
 If it seems I failed the test.

Sure, my days are numbered.
That's how it's always been
But I am here, and this is now
I'll live the day I'm in.

Life's Choices, a poem by Janet Muirhead Hill and the Rimers

I'm thankful for the inner muse I call my "rimers" whose voices I hear in rhyming rhythm when I'm not too busy to listen.
Here is a scribbled poem from an old notebook. 

Over, under, around and through
direction in life is up to you.
Circumnavigate the globe
or sit at home and pull your lobe.

Meet the challenges head on straight
or crawl beneath the bed and wait.
How you react to circumstances
depends on readiness to take chances.

Listening to inner or outside voices
will influence the way you make your choices.
Whatever they be, you'll keep being taught
by the consequences of the choices you've bought.

Through time and trial and introspection
life will teach you truth detection
until you learn the best thing to do
is to your own soul be ever true.
                                                                                                                                                                             

Another poem slipped out of my mind onto paper. It's about writer's block. Nothing fancy or profound. Just fun rhyming.

Writer's blocks do happen,
at least they do to me.
Yet when they do, I don't know why,
It is a mystery.

I wonder why I cannot make
myself sit down and write.
What is the thing that stops my mind
and holds the block so tight?

And then a day will come along,
just as mysteriously
when I can sit and write and write,
words flowing fast through me.

I don't know what the reasons are.
There is no common thread
I only know I love the days
when stories fill my head

and I am teleported
to a land of make believe
as I pen upon the page
the words that I receive.

Secrets

An anonymous poem.

SECRETS

Come, my friend, if you please,
We will walk and shoot the breeze,
And when the breeze is shot to hell
We will all our secrets tell

Oh, I have secrets, yes I do,
And no one I can tell them to.
Yet sometimes as I walk in rain
I'd kind of like to share the pain

Of the secret kept so long
But I know I must be strong.
And yet a while bear this weight
And solely stand up to my fate.

And so I will not share my plight
Until I've found a way to fight
And change the course I seem to be
Traveling to the death of me.

By keeping the secret in my head
Until the day that I am dead
I'll keep from spoiling anyone's bliss.
Better to live in happiness.

So come my friend and we will talk
as merrily we take our walk.
Cheerily we'll shoot the breeze
And avoid all talk of my disease.