What’s No Longer My Own: Rhyming Lament

My sacred home
is no longer my own.
I have no
control.
I can’t even roam
without the silt
of guilt
covering my actions.
There’s no attraction
in what I used to
look forward to.
It’s not sin,
but I can’t rejoice in
anything.
Joy doesn’t ring.
Birds still sing,
but not for me.
The sun still shines,
but, blind,
not for me.

What brings me so low?
I think I know.
I’ve felt it before.
It’s mine to repair
or ignore,
or own

Techno FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out): Haiku

I’m so wrapped up in
checking all I might miss that
I’m missing all life.
OR
We’re so wrapped up in
checking all we might miss that
we’re missing our lives.

The Food Is Done: IMprov Free Verse

“The food is done!”
she said,
if I want some.

I’m sure the food
will taste great.
it always does.

But will there be talking
and companionship?
OR will I hear a tinny voice
coming out of her ear
as she listens
to someone else
far more interesting
than I am?

I’m filled with dread
and hope
and longing
and expectations.

Southern Evening Sorrow: IMprov Free Verse

The constant droning
of the neighbor’s farm irrigation water pump,
or it is it his tractor,
provides background noise
for the birds screeching
and the bugs chirping
and the frogs croaking and splashing.

Unpleasant,
this,
the man-made droning
that never goes away,
unlike the giant flights
that roar overhead
but eventually fade
into the distance.

Still,
better than the TV and social media,
with their constant
look at this look at that you won’t believe what happened today oh my goodness this is so significant!

My heart is breaking slowly,
in small pieces.
I was tired of being lonely.
I was tired of being alone.
I know how to do alone
and lonely
so well.

My stomach is too full
to go hang out
at a pizza place.
I don’t drink,
so a bar provides no relief.

I’m glad I don’t live on the coast,
on a beach
where I could simply take off my shoes
and my robe
and Walk
and Walk
and Walk
toward the sunset,
until the water washed over me
and lifted me
and carried me
where it wanted.

If I Walk
and Walk
and Walk
and let my feet carry me
where they want,
there’s a good chance
I’ll find my way back
to this porch later this evening,
because the bugs always start
to bite
around sunset,
and they provide poor companionship.