Life is a constant precarious balance
Solidity against the breeze of time,
And death a constant reminder
Of denial and acceptance.
One misstep away from a plummet
We fall from grace or fall in love.
We are poised for the end, but if
We endure and remain stable, we will leave behind
A pair of hands, or perhaps a multitude of hearts
Who remember when they discover stones of interest
To pile up rock solid moments, enshrine memories,
Encircle themselves in love for the entirety of their life.
While the sands of time mark the minutes of my life
And the relentless roll of the tidal sea marches on
My pedicured digits dig in, rooted solid in wistful thoughts.
The present, with it’s swift tempo, becomes past, flows away, disappears with the grains under my feet.
As a pelican dives headfirst and deep to catch a morsel
I stand looking outward to the sea and see the serene peace of destiny
Passed out til noon
She swigs Bloody Marys while applying
War paint with an unsteady hand.
Sunken, hungover, puffy eyes
Veiled by Visine.
Barely gets the red out.
But the sparkle is gone for good.
A counterfeit in coiffed curls and fake smirk.
A gussied up clotheshorse in brand name style.
Dressed to the nines to disguise DUI’s.
Living an artificial reality she deceives even herself.
Sipping on Crown, searching out imperfections in others.
Fabricating falsehoods while pretending frivolity.
Stirring up slanderous gossip with her silver spoon.
Tossed back with a shot of ad naseum
She makes Happy Hour an irony.
08/27/2014
Donna J. Heatherly
Limerick To My Dad
As a wee lass, there were cuddles, laughter, and kind words when I was crying.
There was naught ever a thing in my life time that I needed.
Alas, the Insolence of youth, rolling of eyes, and sounds of sighing.
His sage advice I seldom heeded.
With age and maturity my own offspring were seeded.
Now it is known to all who have known him…
My dad is the finest, without even trying!
Thank you for your constant care and love!
Donna J. Heatherly
Dad and I Circa 1961. He grew a beard in honor of the E. St. Louis Centennial… the hat I am wearing is his from the event.
His beard was red, and his hair was blonde, I should add!
Black River Boys (2006)
D.J. Heatherly Hall
Prepare, pack, plan, provide
Sun, hugs, mud, bugs
Filthy fingers. Happy feelings
Finding tree stars and tree nuts
Four-wheeling to a fishing spot
Our little bit of paradise
Where the River runs shallow and secluded.
Floating in clear coolness with eyes full of brightness
Dylan’s curiosity along with Devin’s sweet smiles.
Brings contentment to the family.
Small voice questioning all around us
What are those lines?
As Dylan points to the ripples in the water
Bordering us silently, moving as we slowly glide.
What is that sound?
Listening to concealed birds screech over head.
What are those things?
Looking intently at the polished pebbles under foot.
Tiny fishes scatter in all directions
Yet, the plastic red one is continually caught
Proudly on the end of Dylan’s reel.
Canoeist’s float towards us
Small talk begins. They comment
about our boys in the River.
Devin coyly smiles at them
Dylan shyly looks away, grinning.
Canoeist’s drift lazily past us
And Dylan quietly says to me,“I did not talk”.
Heather and Bobby take a walk, take a break
Alone together to float downstream.
Dylan tells me, “I can’t see.”
“See what?” I ask.
“My best friends” he says in his small voice.
He misses his mom and dad.
They are his world.
Minutes later he sees them floating towards us
he points at them excitedly with his whole self smiling.
Back at our camp site quick showers
Washing away sunscreen and sweat
Primed for evenings’ bug spray and smoke
Blued-eyed dimpled Devin bounces happily in his walker
As we work our magic on the grill.
Snuggled in their tent, our boys doze off before dark.
Time for adults. Starry nights and wine lead to talk
About life, the future, and The Universe.
Rise and shine to a dewy day.
Dylan chases his early morning shadows.
While running from hand monsters.
“It’s getting me, it’s getting me.”
Giggling all the while.
Early a.m. energy and excitement.
Stooping, exploring, digging, collecting
Acorns, rocks, leaves, memories.
Arms wide with joy, high stepping and spinning.
“Whats happening to me?” Dylan laughs.
His feet, in constant motion.
Coffee savored over warmth of the fire.
Simple moments make the grandest of occasions.
Dylan’s sweet comments and Devin’s carefree smiles.
Our Black River Boys.
Silent strength sits in wait
A solitary soldier commands
Peaceful surroundings.
Sees me, then soars away
In search of better prey.
Atikokan bound
I hear silence inside a
Kaleidoscope of pines.
Abundant giants tower over
Scrappy saplings with gangly, leggy limbs
Amidst palomino pony trunks of birch.
Proudly, they proclaim space as I pass
Through unruly rough hewn timber.
Morning dew seeps
Still unable to sink
Into a peace I so need.
A veil of regret
Befalls inexhaustible.
I think of those days, not knowing
They were her last
The words never said
Which should have been spoken.
Tears escape to my pillow. Hopeless.
Like the single drop that she
Shed nearing her end.
How is it possible
She is gone
As I dredge up those days, now knowing
I have her to welcome me.
My fear of death is forever buried
With the ashes of her body.
>Reflective Pond
D.J. Hall (August 2007)
Search for hidden pond
With an eager anticipation
For a successful expedition
Opportunity for abundant fishing
For answers, blue gill, our emotions unraveled.
Propels us through a path less traveled
Traipsing mile after mile in summer’s humidity
Past endless rows of sunny simplicity.
Yellow faces watch in silence as we feel
Relentless dampness seep from pores at
Neck, cleavage, face and arms, as the
weight of the chaos I have created
continually trickles through my thoughts.
Much like the unremitting, infuriating mosquitoes.
Threatening to drive me crazy.
Onward, our heavy feet trudge, through a
Midwestern field full of tall grass and ticks
Accompanied by droning honeybees and
Annoyance of horseflies, heat and his enthusiasm.
Sulking, I discover beauty beneath the surface.
Like many other spheres of life,
I find a hidden eco-system at the edge of the pond,
Woven between the algae, guppies and tiny frogs.
As I sit and fume about my discomfort, misery and him
is the certainty that we, too, are intermingled.
Energy, fate, force or whim
Compels me to accept the reality that I had
attempted to submerge.
The certainty that I believe in our love, our future,
and that our affections will once again resurface.
Past Tension
D.J. Hall
The Past is a root that spreads, swelling between us.
A source for constant state of upheaval.
Mistakes, deception and cruelty are a sickness.
The smallest faults expand, proliferate.
The Past is unwilling to forgive or obliterate.
Two souls of different spirit, psyche, strength.
Attempt to move forward together
Continual to struggle.
Where is my spine? Where is his heart?
His thoughts are so deep
They are drowning me.
His philosophy is so stoic
It smothers me.
His systematized style is so uptight
It stifles me.
He says
I should be more
Frugal. Fluent.
Intellectual. Prudent.
He says
I should be less
Generous. Scattered.
Passionate. Stupid.
Instead, I am
Confused. Convictionless.
Uncertain. Unwilling
To change.
The Past, in its wary way,
Is a destroyer of destiny.
Creating dreams only to be demolished.
Our Past eliminates Our Future.
Writesandwrongs 
You must be logged in to post a comment.