cronechronicler

Exploring the poetry of everyday life

Haiku: Passing Time

Days move slower now
Crawling at a turtle pace
Time to smell a rose

Weeks go charging by
Rapid rabbits hop along
Where did my time go?

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Summer Music

Sound of splashing in the pool
Early swim begins the day
Across the road loud lawnmower whirrs
Rains of late made grasses grow
Radiant flowers everywhere
Quietly bloom each one a song

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Company’s Gone Home

Summer came inside today
Windows opened wide
Cooling breeze a welcome guest
Heat wave passed with holiday
Hugged relatives and said goodbye
Quiet is settling in

Squirrel is lounging on a branch
Hidden by green oak tree leaves
Cardinal heard but bird not seen
Wind chimes and lovely laughter sounds
Music charming to my ears
Today is calm and bright

Sparkling blue of swimming pool
Invitation to dive in
Turn onto my back and float
Let cares drift away
Old cliché but useful here
Too lazy to create.

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Redefinition

To make an end is to make a beginning
The end is where we start from

T.S. Eliot

Thanksgiving time three years ago
A sudden meltdown shock occurred
Within my gathered family
Exposing long forgotten faults
We could not comprehend
Or figure how to heal
Youngest son’s deep woundedness

Two years more time passed
Again we were together
As a family at the beach
Stroke affecting wife of eldest son
Diagnosed the week before
Yet still they joined in our midst
Received our help and warm embrace

Tomorrow’s Independence Day
We celebrate as family
Grateful that the youngest son
Will bring kids and his wife
Whose recent cancer surgery
Revealed chemo yet to come
Love will be given and received

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Adjustments

My blog announces I’ll explore
The poetry of every day
Newly I have found alas
My everyday has changed

First I blamed my muse
Lazy creature distant
Unavailable to inspire
Or to awaken me

The tree outside my window
And the view
Clouds in dawning sky
Tell me no tales

Family life is bubbling
A stew of new developments
Demands attention
And my energy

Changes unpoetical I think
Call for language spoken best in prose
Stories full of life and real
Ah, my muse awaits me just off stage

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