A missing appendage
Makes it hard to type
Close a button
Pick up a dime
The departed pointer finger
Lost to a sharp buzz saw
Building hearth and home
To keep a family safe
Lost, but found, the finger tip
Still feels, still grows its own claw
Offers refuge for gnawing concerns
That cloud a hectic day
Gone, but not forgotten,
Memories reside in time
Within an absent piece of flesh
Imagined to be whole
Finger the missing edge
Feel it, love it, massage
Its invisible core
Until it reappears
Make it whole again
Make yourself whole
Resume your heartbeat
–Victoria Emmons, copyright, 2017
achievement, Challenges, Loss, Musings, Persistence, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Thoughts, Time, Tolerance
advice, appendage, challenges, finger, grief, loss, poem
Oct · 06
Music comforts, charms and fascinates us. A palace with a huge, gilded room dedicated to music can be most inspiring.
death, Fear, Hope, Loss, Music, Musings, poems, Poetry, Thoughts
death, Fear, life, music
Sep · 26
Frankly it was summer
and hot. Air wouldn’t move and fences were blocked so no one could enter even if you didn’t want to go inside.
I did. I wanted to see
what his world had been like, all hundred or more years of it. There he was, a stone general frozen in thought astride a white mount blackened by time.
weighed upon him, I am sure of it. Please the family, children need bread, a new nation cannot breathe without a leader.
Easy enough to live
on a peaceful farm, ignore the critics and haters, ones who shame into leadership those who might win.
Oh, cousin, why did
we fight to defend a way of life gone for the ages, too radical for our time, but not yours.
Conflict need come
to an end, they say, no war between us or remains of vast valleys full of blood, soldiers no more, only crosses on a hill.
You watch from atop
your loyal stead new soldiers who never learned history, nor learned from it, mistakes made and lives lost, teach anew.
They do not listen,
nor will they know that you remain a leader teaching lessons from your day, remind them of wrongs gone by, not wiped away, remembered for a reason.
Dear cousin, show them
from your Traveler’s perch so no one will forget, that our battles from home to home, brother to brother must surely end.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
America, Challenges, Family, Forgiveness, Hate, Musings, Patriotism, poems, Poetry, Tolerance, War, Will
family, Hate, lesson, life, poems, soldiers, survival, war
Aug · 16
You met me
the rim of my
too late to join me
for dinner and
too late for
a shared glass
You buzzed to
let me know
you were there
–Victoria Emmons, 2017, Prague
Amour, Grief, Loss, Love, Love, Loyalty, Marriage, Musings, poems, Poetry, Time
loss, love, poetry, Prague
Aug · 15
Stumble on stones
that speak to my feet
seven centuries past
Too long ago to recall
A love gone by.
Sky aided by clouds
darkened in an instant
to cool a steamy day,
raindrops and thunder
fluffed into marshmallow
dreams by midday.
Your gifts linger, a
72-hour metro ticket
takes me on a red train
to green line, then
yellow line to find Zlicin
through the park to Zitna.
A hot day adorns
your head, along with
a baseball cap to keep
the sun away, a
gift for a weary traveler.
Franz Kafka, Adolf Born,
blond Chrystina in an Alfa Romeo
points out the world’s largest
castle, streets below
teeming with selfies and
a car that attracts attention.
Czech list of things to do,
dancing house beckons
as bridge traffic lessens on
way-finding maps to
a jazz club of singers,
drums, and saxophone tunes.
A kiss on the hand, a wave
goodbye from one train to another
as I dine alone next to
Charles Bridge, me and
my glass of red Bourguignon
from France, no Czech beer.
Laughter of child’s play
on monkey bars at a nearby park
makes music for my single dinner,
void of smiling Irish eyes,
no direction to
my last evening in Prague.
Lost in colors, I search
for the yellow ice cream cone
to lead me out of the
Namesti maze toward the Vystad
where I will drift
back to normalcy, if I can.
copyright 2017, Prague, CZ
Amour, Gifts, Happiness, kindness, Kiss, life, Love, Musings, poems, Prague, Relationships, Travel
jazz, life, love, metro, poems, Prague, relationships, travel
Aug · 10
Cries from a bleacher
Fan of a different stripe
Hoots and waves
Shouts to the team
Shout and Shot easy to misspell
Hate not as easy to dispel
Hate upon a field of play
Play just for fun
Play no more, run and hide
Hide and seek metal
Metal that flies
Flesh and blood
Second on to third
Third straight to home run
Run for your life
Pursuit of happiness.
Pledge of Allegiance.
Round the bases
Hot dogs, beer
Fans who cheer
My Country ‘Tis of Thee
Innocence lost in uncivil
discourse, lost to ugly shouts
When shots rang out.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
Baseball, Challenges, death, hunt, poems, Poetry, Sports, suburbs, Terrorism, Tolerance, War
Baseball, Fear, grief, guns, poem, politics, Terrorism
Jun · 17
The invisible line is cast across the river,
across the canyon, or the ages, obstacles
that find us as we travel dusty roads, always
searching, forever unsure. Pleasure in
windblown branches hobbled against the slant
of a craggy mountain, predicted to lose,
yet they blossom, somehow gaining strength
from light and the occasional storm.
Rain is approaching current location
and is expected within thirty minutes.
The line reaches out, centuries compelled
to forge a lineage unbroken. The invisible line.
Our heritage. We cannot see them, nor they us.
Mere black and white images painted by the
hand of a craftsman or a Brownie Instamatic.
They smile or laugh, more often
furrow brows within the frames of their lives.
History recorded in a frown, perhaps too serious
the thought of the invisible line.
Rain is falling now.
The burden remains. Casting the line is all
too frightening, creates a link in a chain that
cannot be undone. Populate. Procreate. Pass.
The cycle begs for renewal. And so we perform.
In our innocence and duty, the people perform,
create the invisible line that stretches from
one generation to another. The line sends all
our oneness to the next and the next,
on down the line.
The wind blows harder.
Never an end of the line, just a passing
of the wonderment of life, love, creation,
knowledge, laughter, responsibility, inspiration,
thoughtfulness, caring, tolerance, joy, simplicity.
Never an end. Always a new beginning.
The invisible line is not broken, merely
reflected in the crystal blue eyes of a child,
the exploration of a scientific discovery,
the digital painting of a sorrowful face.
Black clouds ahead.
Cast your line. An ocean awaits. Sandy shores
reside amongst the clouds, no matter their color
or shape. The line must be cast. Too late for
indecision. Stretch out your heart to the next
in line. Leave your trace of glory to be retold
in story after story. The blessed line.
Follow it and find the softest space in Heaven,
find those who climbed in before you.
Rain clearing by tomorrow morning.
–Victoria Emmons, May 2017
for Uncle Jim
Age, Aging, Challenges, Children, death, Destiny, Family, Grief, life, Love, Loyalty, Mountains, Musings, Ocean, poems, Poetry, sand, Sea, Writing
death, family, grief, lineage, passing
May · 20
Soft sounds count each breath with
clarity, mindfulness and motion.
Every swell erupts into hope, rises and falls
in fullness, leaving joy as a postscript.
Breathe in to fill three-quarters,
that which is left of a lung, a section
disappeared one sunny morning, a favorite
corner rendered useless by a scalpel.
Pushing air out even harder,
pain shoots down the spine,
suffocates the rib cage and the heart.
But the heart still loves, still smiles.
Life breathes in three-quarter beats,
arouses a heart to sing, a soul to pray,
a mind to dream. Invites love to play
under a delicious full moon.
Count the breaths. One. One-half.
How many birthdays, he asks.
Grandma, that’s a lot of birthdays.
A lot more to come, you say.
Smell a future filled with fresh air,
even in three-quarter beat. Hear the
sound of laughter, the voice of strength
residing in a cage meant to be opened.
Make songs with every breath when
air and music wed as one. Sing for
respite. Sing for hope. Sing for life,
notes attaching to the summer wind.
–Victoria Emmons, May 2017
Birthdays, Challenges, Destiny, Hope, illness, kindness, life, Loss, Love, Musings, Pain, Persistence, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Time, Wedding, Writing
Happiness, iIlness, joy, kindness, love, poems, recovery, strength
May · 20
The first time
I saw my own eyes
staring out from
behind your sweet face,
a mirror of self-love
unencumbered by years
of doubt, sweat, tears.
That first time,
the only time
I saw you
before she took
to a better life.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
Dedicated to all the mothers
who had to give up their children.
Babies, Birth, Challenges, Children, Daughter, Destiny, Family, Grief, Heartbreak, kids, life, Loss, Love, Love, Memories, Mother, Musings, Pain, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Secrets, Son
adoption, babies, challenges, children, grief, infants, kids, loss, mother, orphans
May · 16
In fifteen minutes you and I will turn thirty.
That long ago, so much time vanished.
Fifteen minutes disappearing like thirty years.
At midnight, all those years will have passed.
That day we met, we cued up for good reason.
A boat too full let us laugh together instead,
share a beer at the hotel bar,
become friends and lovers for life.
Ten minutes remain until thirty years arrive.
We can soon celebrate a milestone,
worth a bottle of your best champagne.
Bubbles make me laugh. So do you.
I hear your laughter ring in my head. Yet
how heavy it seems. I carry that laughter with me.
Its joy and its burden. A love that will not end.
A memory that will not cease to exist.
Five more minutes and our thirty-year anniversary
becomes real. Aunt Wilma said thirties were the
best years. Best for everything. Her wisdom stays
with me. But after thirty years, a void appears.
Not the same without you, my love, despite the hour.
Remember our anniversary, my calendar tells me.
It is now done. Check you off my to-do list.
I remembered. No one else did.
–Victoria Emmons, 16 May 2017
Amour, Anniversary, Grief, life, Loss, Love, Love, Loyalty, Marriage, Memories, Musings, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Writing, Writing
Amour, Anniversary, grief, life, loss, love, loyalty, marriage, relationships
May · 16