Love is Both a Path and a Guide ~~ Original Poems and Photographs by Rodney Standage, Gilbert Arizona

~~ Read Critically ~ Write Consciously ~ Speak Clearly ~ Tell Your Truth -Clint Smith





Sunday, March 29, 2015

Memories

Our First House 31 years later, Ontario California, March 2015

Memories
Glimpses of,
Triggered by
Pictures of
And Smells
And Hugs
Places
Sounds
And Shrugs

Not the whole
No beginning
Not the end
But a middling
Great? Yes –
But most just quotidian

Pleasant? Yes –
Let them linger.


Truth? –
Hard to say.

Mostly


Thursday, March 26, 2015

The Game


Coronado Beach, San Diego California, March 2015

Can you strip away
From the game
The win and lose?


The rules - pit twain
So one may reign


Oh, Genius soar
The game alone
Leads skill and ploy
Yet these expose
The core

Monday, March 23, 2015

Tools

Gold Flecks, Coronado Beach, California March 2015
A scalpel neared
My naked eye
Yo! Doc! Hold up!
I cried.

Oh, I can-not!
While I’m awake!
And while I see!
It’s far too sharp
A knife for me.

While working
In my shop one day
Buffing rouge
Into my eye
Would not dislodge
For all I did
So to a doc I ride

Ah picking up a cotton swab
And with a swish
The piece came free
And I was on my way

Had I not said –
What then?

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Journal



Denise called from the Cancer Treatment Centers of America and said she was removed from the clinical trial.  The tumor has doubled in size since she has been on the trial.  She did not have chemo today and will go in tomorrow and get a scan to learn if it has spread to other places. 
 
She said she wished I was with her and that it was a very bad day.  She cried a lot today.  She sound tired and depressed when I spoke with her. 

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Next



Great Wall at Badaling China, May 2013


We sat in the room
The exam at an end
Though cast a gloom.
 “I have one last question.”
To ask.


What Should I expect?
When it comes to the end?
The doctor spoke straight
About open wounds
The cancer extends
In Vital Organs – Then death


Later at home –
What will you do?
My books? - Dolls? - My dishes?
And sewing machine?


What will you do with…
Oh why must she ask?
These questions of me.
And force me to feel
A pain I wish wouldn’t be.