A Spring Morning

This is a piece I thought up a few years back while on my way into work one morning. With nothing but farm fields between my house and my former place of employment, it made for some pretty spectacular sunrises, especially during the changing seasons. The sunrise photo is one I shot with my cell phone a year or two prior to writing the poem. Back then, I was actually on my way home from work as I was on a third shift schedule.

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In Memory of Wade

This is a tribute to my step-dad on the one year anniversary of his death. If you didn't know Wade, he was a long time cook at a restaurant here in Montrose, MI. Knowing that, this tribute will make a little more sense to you all. Wade was one of the greatest guys I've ever known and I miss every single thing about him. Wish you were still here, Wade. Love you, Dad. 

(Wade, with grandchildren, Jace and Lorelai-Christmas time 2013)

In Memory of Wade

An extra large cheeseburger pizza

Or a juicy triple cheese delight

These are the things I miss eating

When you’d cook for us at night

A handful of shredded mozzarella

I know that sounds odd and weird

Bake me up spaghetti or lasagna

And that pasta instantly disappeared

Crispy grilled cheese and fries

The greatest comfort for your soul

To always make us feel better

You served chicken noodle in bowl

Party food and sizzling appetizers

Like cheese sticks and onion rings

Or snacks for all the biggest games

Consisting of nachos and wing dings

I could always go for your breakfast

Like a western omelet without the meat

Or eggs, toast, hash browns and sausage

Tasting your food again would be a treat

It’s not only just about the food though

It’s about all the memories shared

The great times in that old restaurant

That were created through the years

I was always doing these odd jobs

To try and make you very proud

Like fold thousands of pizza boxes

And bus tables when you had a crowd

I remember sitting, drinking coffee

With you and your crazy Montrose friends

It’s the one thing that I don’t really miss

Since most of them are Republicans

If only it were festival weekend again

And I was helping you wash dishes

Getting paid with blueberry pancakes

Against all of my stomachs wishes

Not a single day ever goes by

Where I don’t deeply long to see

My dearest step-father, Wade

And his grease stained pocket T's

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Sympathy Greeting

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Poems About Death (Week Long Series): Post #6

I wrote this piece after my step-dad was cremated. I actually wrote it for my brother-in-laws band, Apollo's Din. They're into short, unusual lyrics so I was thinking they could put some music to my poem. But just like all the other things I've written for them, they turned it down...

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Cremated

Stationary

Cemetery

Trapped inside

No sanctuary

It’s where you go

To live out your death

For eternity

Without a breath

Rotting body

Inside a box

No way to live

Even if you’re gone

But it’s where you go

To live out your death

For eternity

Without a breath

When I die

Burn my soul

Spread my ashes

Over hell

Don’t want to be buried

To live out my death

For eternity

Without a breath

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Poems About Death (Week Long Series): Post #5

This piece was by far the hardest poem about death that I have ever written. It tells the exact story of the day my step-dad passed away. It is one of the few writings that I've done where I've made myself cry. And that's about all I'm going to say about it. 

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Final Goodbye

Get the call

Dad's on deathbed

Hasn’t but an hour left

Drop it all

Rubber on road

Hadn’t seen him all week

Speed before it’s too late

Failure not an option

Park on concrete garage

Uphill incline

To facilities stench

Revolving through the doors

Rotate in

Climb to sixth floor

In room

In time

Wasn’t prepared

A haunting site

Violent gasp

Reaching for air

Mouth hanging

Full of foam

Wipe it down

Huddle around

Squeeze his hand

He feels my presence

He opens up

With little life he had

A single tear

Drips from corner

He knows I’m there

He seems relieved

Like he’s ready

Like he’s going

His blood stalls

His organs give

His soul meets peace

Dad's gone

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Poems About Death (Week Long Series): Post #4

This is another poem that I tried to write just after my step-dad had passed away. While all of those emotions were still fresh in my mind. After the first line, however, I had no idea how to express the kinds of feelings that I had, so I put off finishing it until just very recently. I can tell you, all of those emotions were still very much there and just as hard to write about. 

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What Would It?

What would it feel like to know you were dying?

Could you hold your eyes wide open without crying?

Chemically lined

To equalize pain

Poison escalates

A slow demise

What would it feel like to know you were dying?

What thoughts would be going through your head?

Could you fall asleep at night in the comfort of your bed?

Childhood dreams

Stir life’s regrets

Your decades

Flash before you

What thoughts would be going through your head?

What would you say to the people you love most?

Could you tell them goodbye or just save it for ghost?

Cherish your time

Never let them go

Weep at the thought

Of leaving them alone

What would you say to the people you love most?

What would it feel like to know you were dying?

Could you keep fighting or just give up trying?

All deep questions

Worth pondering

Think about it

We’re all dying

What does it feel like to know you are dying?

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Poems About Death (Week Long Series): Post #3

These two poems are pieces that I just recently finished. I'm not really sure where the inspiration for the first one came from. "Death is Not a Game", is pretty self explanatory. I was probably watching some sort of sporting event while also thinking about death. And it just clicked. The second poem, "The Hardest Thing", is one that I actually started last year after my step-dad passed away. I couldn't pull myself to complete it until this last week. It is definitely the hardest thing to watch a close, loved one die. That is why I felt the need to express it through poetry. 

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 Death is Not a Game

Death is all but leisurely sport

From moment you arrive into world

That day of birth is not your draft

Adolescence not pre-season

Practice required in daily grind

Can’t win with meaningless motion

Blood, sweat, tears and pain

Victory is only survival

Death is not a game

It’s not a countdown

To dead lined attack

No play clock

No game clock

You can’t stop time

Or go back in time

There is no overtime

There are no guarantees

Death is not a game

One wrong move

Career more than over

A costly mistake

Only one fan to judge you

Step out of bounds

Eternally banished

Catastrophic injury

No back up plan

Death is not a game

Drop the pass

Cut from more than team

Miss the shot

Condemned to unknown

Fall face first in dirt

Covered by ground

Trip upon frozen ice

Body grows numb

Death is not a game

There are no mulligans

Or do-over-replays

Or second chances

Fate won’t allow such

If you’re lucky

But luck runs out

Always runs dry

And you die

Death is not a game

Be that reckless athlete not

Who takes opportunity for granted

You never know when your buzzer will sound

When your stadium lights will dim

When your legacy abruptly ends

When you retire into the bliss

When the fat lady sings for you

Come to think of it

It’s really life that’s not a game

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The Hardest Thing

Get the news

Not good

Six to live

Probably less

Denial not healthy

But for the best

Accepting not acceptable

Strength isn’t strong

Energy drained

Time running out

Weeks numbered

By painful days

Fear in eyes

Follows regret

Deterioration sinks in

Drives it home

Reality check

Not a dream

A nightmare

With catastrophic effect

Minutes run down

By seconds of agony

Helplessness

Written on face

Keep spirits high

Fail miserably

All parties

Silently saying goodbye

Can’t speak, a voice so weak

Can’t eat, a nauseating defeat

Can’t laugh, a coughing attack

Can’t sleep, a peaceful dream

Can’t work, can’t play

Can’t hope, can’t pray

Can’t run, can’t stray

Can’t breathe, can’t stay

Only one thing left

Give in

It’s the hardest thing

To watch a loved one die

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