There's A Cry in Everything

There's a cry in everything--

A universal tear.

There's a sob in every being--

A common sense fear.

Rue the day and push away;

Dance and drink and sing!

But there's a sigh;

There's a why;

There's a cry in everything.

Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2023. 

Use with permission only. Contact author on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/hopeh1122 Follow on Twitter @HopeNote

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

'Close' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades

That's what my Mom said

When I told her the game was close--

The one where she beat me

placing wooden tiles on the board to make words

PLAGERIZE

        R

        OAK

        W

        NOISE

Her smile unfamiliar but warm;

Her hands like mine--long fingers, short nails.

The sun was dropping outside;

Her energy too.

She must sleep now--

Next to the large metal fan that whirred away the world

and changed my voice when I stuck my face in it. 

TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER

I would be shushed to bed.

At midnight she would put on her white pants, white top, white shoes with large white soles

Place plastic ear plugs around her neck

The ones where I could hear my heart beat if I put the metal circle on my chest

Lump dump lump dump

The same way it beats now, only faster

because I know you are leaving

And when I arise, you will still be gone

The tiles still out on the table to fidget with

Reminding me

We are not horseshoes and hand grenades.

Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2023. Use with permission only. Contact author on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/hopeh1122 Follow on Twitter @HopeNote

Grief

As soon as the hush falls,

In every lifeless lull,

Your name repeats in my ears.

Memories of you

both fond and fatal,

flash and flicker

On an endless loop in my mind,

Like an old TV in a store front window.

The picture is blurry and wavy

And the sound undermined by a hiss.

I should move on.

But

I stop and listen;

Stand and stare;

Until my ears ring,

My eyes sting,

Until the hush lifts,

The lull is dismissed

By someone on the street who asks

What are you looking at?

Are you OK?

I point 

But they see only a window.

I walk on in the rain.

Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2023. Use with permission only. Contact author on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/hopeh1122 or on Twitter @HopeNote / RIP Cali 2012-2023

Two Mourning Doves

Two mourning doves
Perched side by side
on a chain link fence
like lovers on a park bench.
They stare into the sun over still water reservoir,
behind them the California freeway roars--

rubber turns,

diesel burns,
stomachs yearn for evening meals.
Are they oblivious to the chaos
or just unconcerned?
These two--
With shared view
Ignore the din
'til it is only them.

-Hope A. Horner

Copyright 2022. No use without permission

Emerald of the North

Gray slab rocks slick with green

Direct the blue downstream

The Man of Sligo on corner stands

Pointing to the sky, jacket fanned.

First born child of rival shore

All who know, know he loved you more

You - this Emerald of the north

Province Connacht, seaport.

Leaving London's crowding choke

Crooked streets and chimney smoke

To commune with fairies beneath the tree

In song and dance and poetry

To bring a tear to travelers' eyes

With wild swan words and lovers sighs

And stir what Irish blood remains

In hearts with same blue in their veins

To match the river rushing still

Around the bend toward Strandhill.

-H.Horner

Sligo, Ireland. Photo copyright Hope Horner, 2022.

- Poem dedicated to WB Yeats. An inspiration and genius poet.
Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2022. Use with permission only. Contact author on Twitter @HopeNote

#ireland #irishpoetry #irishpoem #newpoet #undiscoveredpoet #sligo #yeats #wbyeats

Last Night

I woke up crying last night
yelling at you
eye to eye
covers around me
shards of light
slicing through the darkness.

When I asked you to leave,
I wish I had done it with more force
instead of wimpering like a dog
and telling you this is how it had to be
because I was too afraid to say how I really felt
How you disappoint
How you disrespect
How you disappear
How I know where you go
when you do
what you do
I can smell it --
the long, gray smoke that follows you like
a spirit
It clouds your eyes
Until
You cannot see what you are becoming;
WHO you are becoming!
I yelled all that
Last Night.
Unlike
the actual day.
The one you thought would never come and the one
I knew probably would
The one where your hands shook and your voice was thin
You said
It's not what you think.
And I said
Wait until tomorrow.
It's not wise to talk when we are upset.
But we did speak
The next day, in long heavy steps on the black top, side by side
So we didn't have to look eye to eye
And I said--
Oh, I can't remember it all now.
Only I must not have said enough
Or said it the way I should have
then
I must have left it hanging out there
like a partially filled cartoon bubble
Because last night
I filled that bubble full of exclamation points
Until it burst.


Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2013-2017. Use with permission only. Contact author on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/hopeh1122 Follow on Twitter @HopeNote

Five Things

Write down the five of things you hear today, he said
the wind in the maples
the clink of a metal gate
horses as they nip at each other
hawks screaming overhead
the sound of your feet on the dirt path as you walk into the canyon.
The silence is priceless.
The dust?
Golden.
You can have a big house in the city with noise and chatter
or a little house in the canyon with oaks and rattlesnakes
Write down the five things you hear today, he said.
You may not even get to five.


Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2015. Use with permission only. Contact author on hotmail at hopeh1122 or follow on Twitter @HopeNote