Author: 3RueSleidan

New Year’s Resolutions

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I scan the frames of my
life
as they play out in the photographs on my
wall

A pretty child smiles at
me
sharing a story from years gone 
by

Blue eyes gaze out from underneath long 
strands
shrouding her forehead, a way to hide when
required

A young woman in white stares at
me
dressed in purity, defiance and
fear

A mother laughs at the beauty of a
creation 
she swaddles tightly in her
arms

A leader offers a handshake to
glorify 
a trophy for doing only what was
right

A woman stands encircled by
colleagues
who gather for farewell 
acknowledgments

I do not know
her
or do I?
Who was she
this smiling
me?

I resolve to be all three of those who are 
me
child, lover, mother, never cease to be
another

But wait

I know not the
stranger
that is the future
me

I resolve to accept
her
whomever she may
be

–Victoria Emmons, Copyright 2016

hangers-on

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Hangers-on brilliant as sunrise
magenta cloaked
in hues of tangerine

colors that dance
and swing with the
rhythmn of the wind

will not let go
cannot leave the party
too eager to play

leaves that never fall in autumn 
hang on to branches all winter
give up when spring arrives 

give way to new growth
that the next generation 
may thrive

–Victoria Emmons, Copyright 2017

Lost and Found

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Remember the day, the moment, the loss
Perplexing, annoyed, forlorn and cross

Locked out of life, transportation and gold
Keys to the world have clearly been sold

All that I cherish resides on a ring
That circle gives access to everything

Late summer drew nigh, I prepared to depart
Thirty years of a place that won over my heart

How could I misplace so important a treasure
In the chaos of packing and farewell pleasure

My search through trash cans high and low
Revealed nothing but remnants of junk let go

Pause for a moment to think and review
Each step I had taken the previous two

Days of forgetfulness and check-off notes
Hundreds of details to fill up my totes

No wonder my key ring was missing in action
When months of planning had been a faction

I needed those keys to my house, to my car
Without them I would never go very far

Keys to my storage unit, keys to my bank
Keys to a life that seemed suddenly dank

Lost forever they were, I began to assess
My options for moving ahead with this mess

Costly new car keys, remote control, too
LoJack to replace, so much to do

Buy a new storage lock, notify the teller
Make sure car keys are there for the seller

Thank heaven for duplicate keys all around
Searching my house for where they might be found

Three hundred more dollars to replace a car key
Seems way more than needed for befuddled old me

But cost me it did in both money and grief
As I abandoned my thoughts of a mischievous thief

Surely I was the culprit of this mystery distraction
Own up to my faults and egregious reaction

I set about fixing the damage I had done
Finding or buying keys one by one

Eighteen months passed by, a thousand lifetimes ago
Lost keys were forgotten in favor of snow

Then holidays arrived, an invitation to stay
At the home of my daughter not too far away

I leaped at the chance to wake up Christmas Day
So near to grandchildren who giggle and play

My bag packed in seconds, my car filled with toys
I tackled snowdrifts to join sweet girls and boys

When morning arrived, little footsteps awakened me
As grandchildren stood in awe of the Christmas tree

Quickly washed my face, brushed my hair and teeth
Grabbed my turquoise robe and shoes to warm my feet

Reached top of the stairs, eager to join family crew
Hands dropped into my pockets to hear a jingle or two

Fate intervened, my old robe revealed a prize
A metal circle of keys that belied my eyes

Lost …. then finally found myself, if I may
Puzzle solved at last on this Christmas Day

–Victoria Emmons, © img_07202016

Measuring Love

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Fat, white flakes cover rooftops, fence lines
Rain upon sidewalks and parked cars
Plant themselves in mountains of cloud-like splendor
Snow painting a merry Christmas Day

Bright sky at midnight, enough reflection to guide Santa
And his reindeer to our home where children sleep
As grandmother lies eyes open and in wait
For laughter and expectation to fill the morning light

Check the empty plate for cookie crumbs
And leftover drops of milk, evidence of parental love
While children confirm today is the day, finally
Yes, dear Alex, Christmas has arrived

Presents bear his name, a word he can spell at three
His sister’s name, too, three letters he reads aloud
On a tag that hangs from a golden package
Wrapped with silver twine and sparkly stars

Help Zoe open her gifts, dear boy, you know how
She yet too young to rip paper and bows
He willing and eager to obey
Tears into each gift for baby sister

Delve into the unknown, discover what resides inside a box
Find out what hides within a heart, a soul
My decision to move, leave all that is known
Leave behind a life, a friend, a sunny world

The real gift is me, dear children, nearby you now
Far from the warmth of a California coastline
To the land of slips on the ice, long winters
Snow button in my car, four-wheel drive

The day after gifts revealed, wrapping paper gone
Two feet of snow to shovel from my deck
Under a clear, pink Boxing Day sky
Measuring love in twenty-four inches

–Victoria Emmons  © 2016

Mon amour

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do you know the sound of glory when it flies in your flushed face

and seizes your heart

ruffles your mind

farther from anything you have ever known

riveting noise clambers in your ears

oceans drip from your eyelashes

ooze through nostril chambers

until all senses have vanished

and your quivering lips can muster only trite and simple sounds

that your muddled brain wants to speak

but has no voice

—Victoria Emmons © 2016

Longing

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I know how to define longing
Feeling it as I do this day
With joyful news that I
Cannot share with you.

Longing to speak with you
To hear your laughter amidst
Guttural sounds that create
Music for my soul.

We now speak only in code
Your message somewhat blank
And mine only hesitant
Lacking in style or craft.

Longing so real that it hurts
A deep, agonizing pain
That makes me want to fly away
To a far-off destination.

I have nowhere to fly
Only stuck in my memories
Lost in dreams gone by
Longing for what will never be.

–Victoria Emmons  © 2016

What to do

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Gypsy

When daylight offers
Nothing more than
Funny cat videos
For eight hours

And blinds are meant
To remain shuttered
Food never consumed
Nor books devoured

The real cat awakens me
Her claws prick my neck
Startle me from a dreamland
Of fanciful dancing and love

My anger frightens her and me
She finds solace under a chair
I find it online in a site
Leading me elsewhere

A story on detergent choices
Liquid, powder or pacs
To clean the oils and scents
He left on my sheets

Mes Excuses

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Pour mes amis qui parlent français:

Mes Excuses, Chers Abonnés, j’ai été absent pendant un certain temps. Pas vous oublié par tous les moyens; étouffement simplement, à bout de souffle, j’examen des options, volant au-dessus, danser sur la tête d’une épingle. Je besoin de temps pour explorer, réaliser, puzzle à travers. Je m’étonne encore à chaque jour, tenter de maîtriser le matin, réparer mon âme et mon iPad, comprendre mon chien. Mon temps n’a pas été votre temps. Où? Considérez ceci: que je me renouvelle, donc allez-vous profiter. Mon travail n’a pas cessé, mais plutôt augmenté. Plus de poèmes pour la vie. Et la mort. Ou tout autre sentiment ou de l’humeur qui frappe dans le cours de ma journée … mais surtout le matin. Le premier soleil du matin est le mieux pour mon cerveau, en dépit du manque d’air ou de sommeil. Un nouveau livre est à l horizon. Je le remplis avec moi-même. Aucun titre fixé encore. Restez à l’écoute.

(Grace à mon ami Mustapha pour la traduction.)

Buzz

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A familiar buzz creates the strange backdrop of my kitchen, and my world. The sound of distress is repeated often in my head, but now it lives. I cannot locate the source. It continues to fill the cool air of an October morning. Where is he? I heard him in pain, buzzing so loudly that I must listen. He wants my attention as he cries for help.

I wait. I must be dreaming, my head repeats. He is gone. He no longer lives on this Earth. But then again, I want to think otherwise. I want to believe the signs that he flew my way six years past. The flutter of his wings upon my cheek. His flight was soft and gentle, aiming for me, for my face. Certain it was he, I broke into laughter. No disrespect, my love, but your wings tickled my nose. Made me smile. I knew it was you, free from pain.

So why now? Why this distress call to me? I look in every room as the sound grows in voice. That buzz remains. I cannot find you. Searching every fold of the house in which I call my home, but not really home since you are not here. Or are you? They tell me I am mad. La Femme Folle. But ’tis only folly, I know. I believe you, mon cher ami. Mon amant, mon amour. I believe you.

And there you are. Upside down, with your tiny wiggling legs. There you are wedged between the bends of a blue kitchen towel. You buzz with vigor, waiting to be freed. Who said a fly should be let free? You chose to be there, mon ami. You wanted to fly, so I let you free. Fly away now, safe to the outside air. Come alive. Don’t die. Keep flying. I love you.

–Victoria Emmons, copyright 2016

My Apologies

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Dear Followers,

I have been away for a time. Not forgotten you by any means. Merely choking, gasping for breath, considering options, flying over, dancing on the head of a pin. I needed time to explore, realize, puzzle through. I still marvel at each day, attempt to master the morning, repair my soul and my iPad, understand my dog.

My time has not been your time. Or has it? Consider this: as I renew myself, so will you profit. My work has not ceased, but rather increased. More poems for life. And death. Or any other feeling or mood that strikes in the course of my day…but mostly morning. Sun up is best for my brain, despite lack of air or slumber.

A new book is on the horizon. I am filling it with myself. No title secured as yet. Stay tuned.

Victoria