Tag: poem

poetry, story, writer, writing

6-hour

Kelly Rogers

What if there was only a 6-hour workday?

What would I do with the two wild, precious hours returned to me?

I channel my inner Mary Oliver, memorized, internalized from the dog-eared copy by my bed.

I make plans for those 10 hours, visions, missions swirling in my mind.

My Apple Watch chirps, reminding me those hours are fictitious, aspirational.

What if there was only a 6-hour workday? What would I do?

It’s not that deep. Dinner would be earlier. Evening walks would be more frequent. I’d see my people and dogs more.

poetry, writer, writing

A-I

Kelly Rogers

A robot in I

Or am I the robot, artificial in the real world?

My motherboard is fried, but I function in a commotion of digital thought

Are my thoughts just machine learning to my nurture versus nature self?

My juxtaposition, binary

We will become a singularity, all of us collapsing into a mainframe

What happened to the joy of simple, disconnected things?

Our processing is faulty, dirty data corrupted by time

Our only intelligence now wired, controlling what once we controlled.

poetry, writer, writing

The Empty Seat

Kelly Rogers

I wasn’t prepared for the empty seat at the table. He filled it so dutifully, yet quietly, each meal we shared.

This was the special occasion table, the linen-and-real-plates table. It barely fit our nuclear family of five, but somehow it detonated to fit our husbands and children.

He occupied the seat at one head of the table, across from my mom at the other end for a balanced table. The rest of us scurried to grab the spaces in-between, the youngest in high chairs like jesters off to the side.

This table was solid wood, built for joy. There was the occasional skirmish around it. We mostly broke bread and blew out candles here.

Cancer tried to take it away.

COVID tried to take it away.

The disagreements all families have tried to take it away.

We always came back though, and he sat in that same spot, asking his grandchildren and sons-in-law for extra ice cream and cheesecake, a procurement specialist for the good things in life.

This was the only throne he ever wanted. He was head of state in this fatherland. He will always fill that seat.

poetry, writer, writing

If I Could

Kelly Rogers

If I could carry you on my back

To the next place, a fortress of peace, I would.

A million memories like threads

Of alabaster spiderwebs will still exist

If I could absorb your pain and any sadness

In the sponge of my soul, I would

A movie of what we were and will always be,

Beautiful and righteous, will play on

If I could rock you in a cradle of my arms

To a sweet, unending sleep, I would

Pieces of you are intertwined in all of us,

Filling the darkness of life’s lattice with good

And to carry you on in all that is done, I will. We will.

poetry, writer, writing

I Am Rich With Female Friendships

Kelly Rogers

I am rich with female friendships.

Their moments of unconditional support,

Draping on me like the finest jewels.

A wealth that no bank can hold,

Providing gentle power to wield.

I am rich with female friendships.

Their laughter plated and served,

Feeding gourmet to my hungry soul.

Bountiful truths like good credit,

Opening access through gilded doors.

I am rich with female friendships.

Their apt comfort when needed,

Supplying emotional cash for peace.

A check that keeps getting written,

Never bouncing if times are tight.

I am rich with female friendships.

Their beauty, so unique, so bold,

Burying a treasure chest inside my heart.

A currency to be carefully invested,

Returning dividends, no limit to reach.

I am rich with female friendships,

The kind that couldn’t be bought,

Maximizing my life’s profit and yielding abundant love.