Cartier Red,
Tiffany Blue,
Dior seemed expensive,
before I met you.
by D. Ryan Lafferty
Tag: rhyme
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If I Make It Out The Door
I stubbed my toe this morning after falling out of bed,
and choked on my two aspirin meant to sooth my aching head.I fell into my bureau while I was slipping on my drawers
and then I straight face-planted down head-first upon the floor.My comb ripped knots and tangles while pulling out my hair
and the band of my elastic snapped when I caught my underwear.The sting had barely fazed me when it pulled and slammed the door
that pinched my little finger and it smarted that’s for sure.I cut myself while shaving and the aftershave did sting
I bumped my head on the countertop while picking up my ring.I tripped over my shoes and I was back down on the floor.
I’m sure I can survive the day, if I make it out the door.by D. Ryan Lafferty
DartanionPress.com
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Labor Day Afternoon
It’s Labor Day afternoon and clouds
hide away the sunI sit inside my room and think of the autumn
days to come.Summertime has gone away and so has all the fun
I wished this day would speed away,
and the rain had just begun.by D. Ryan Lafferty
DartanionPress.com
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Grandma
Sitting upon my grandma’s lap, I looked into her eyes, the crystal blue that
mirrored too the days that passed her by.I felt the softness of her arms, the warmth of her embrace, the kindest smile I’ve
ever known, gently rested on her face.Her hair shined bright like silver with sparkling tinsel hues that caught the sun
and warmed us both on that Sunday afternoon.She sang to me ancient lullabies as if I were just a babe, her voice was sweet and
practiced, often humming each refrain.Without a thought I’d asked her, never thinking it was rude, a question that was
on my mind, the sweet unguarded truth…Grandma, Will I be old and wrinkled too?
Will my hair turn white or grey?
Will I move slow and smile like you, when I get to be your age?
Will my clothes hang big and baggy?
Will I walk without a cane?
Or will I be more like Pop-Pop and have a funny kind of name?Does it hurt you when the colors fade and the wrinkles start to crease?
Will I wear shawls and sweaters with knitted booties on my feet?When I close my eyes, will I just fall asleep, no matter where I am?
Will you still come and visit me? Will we still be best friends?She answered me without a doubt and with a chuckle in her eye.
She smiled and kissed me on the head as she started to reply…Oh, why… when you get to be my age it seems, time just goes so fast.
Your youth is there one moment, then tomorrow it’s the past.Yes, you’ll move a little bit slower then… and you’ll get tired too…
and even when you look like me, you’ll still think and talk like you.You’ll groan and moan when you sit down and bend to tie your shoe.
Your thoughts just won’t work as fast and sometimes you’ll worry too,
but the memories that you keep inside will replay within your mind.When you’re my age, I’ll be gone, but you’ll remember me in time.
You’ll think of all these songs we sang and the way I make you feel.
You’ll think about days like these and suddenly they’re real.The memories make us who we are and our love will never end.
Even when I’ve gone away, in our hearts we’ll still be friends.Take the time to make these memories with your children and theirs too.
Show them how much you love them so they can stop and think of you.You never know where life will take you or where you’ll turn along the way.
Think about those times you’ve shared,
like you thought of me today.by D. Ryan Lafferty
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The Wind
(A poem I picked up and reworked after finding it from my grade school papers)
It blows, it flows, and nobody knows the true shape of the wind.
Where one breeze ends or another begins?It spins and plays on warm summer days.
Yet chilling and bold in the stark winter’s cold.It howls at night under soft moonlight.
It shakes the trees and steals their leaves,
helping high-honking geese fly in southerly Vs.It puffs up the clouds so fluffy and proud and dries up all the rain.
Spreading parachute plants and helicoptering seeds,
speeding the birds and the bees on their way.It whirls up the whirlpools by the river’s wide mouth,
with blusters and blasts as it helps the storms pass
from north, east, west or south.No colors it shows wherever it goes and truly there’s no doubt.
For all of us sailors, pinwheel pushers and kite-flying flag-waivers,
the wind will always blow about.by D. Ryan Lafferty
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Apostle Paul
(My deepest sympathies)
Today life’s strange journey, it seems anything, but long.
We’d only just now figured out the rhyme and rhythm of our song.Though the melody is bitter and the harmony seems blue. Still that funky driving
bass line keeps us moving, hell we’re all just passing through.And when our loved ones leave us, there’s a grief that lingers on,
a hollow empty heartache despite the singer or the song.But an apostle’s job is to lead the way, to inspire and press on.
To be remembered every day long after they have gone.
And who should fit that moniker, far better than them all?
A gentle, sweet, and giant, man; a loving soul named Paul.Some men practice politics, others medicine or law,
but fewer practice what they preach, in matters great or small.Like a rare endangered species his absence has an impact on us all.
A lasting pain while we remain,
for even giants fall.by D. Ryan Lafferty
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What a Difference You’ve Made
(Mrs. Adams’ Last Day at School)
The last summer comes quickly and it’s one day away
The halls are all empty, no more laughter and playAs you close out your grade book and turn in your keys
Emotions they mingle with fond memories…For thirty-five years you planned and you dreamed,
each day filled with lessons, directions, and themes.Cut patterned borders and colorful frames
once hung on the walls with operations and names.The dry erase board is faded and grey
well-worn through instruction, repetition, refrain.Your once-cluttered desktop sparkles and shines
The empty room echoes with what’s left behind.Paper and pencils, rulers, stencils, and graphs;
addition, subtraction, the basics of math.The songs that delighted, the stories you told
the problems you solved being brave and so bold.The joy that you shared was infectious it’s true,
making us laugh whether frazzled or blue.Now that the luncheons are finished
And your knick-knacks are all tucked away.
Your paperwork’s signed, no goodbyes left to say
As you look over your classroom to remember this day.A tear drop, a smile as you silently pray,
and briefly you’ll wonder if only I’d stayed…but stop and remember…
You’ve done all your best and what a difference you’ve made.
by D. Ryan Lafferty
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The Cold, Cold Winter Rose
The lovely daffodils of spring grow up far too early I suppose.
Their beauty shines so brightly in their neat untrammeled rows.But those flowers first to blossom are those fastest yet to leave.
Their fragile stems succumbing to those greedy, grabbing weeds.The tulips shoot directly aiming upward toward the sky.
Their beauty’s simply stunning as they capture every eye.While they glow above the earth and stand so lovely, tall and thin,
April’s rains come pounding down, stripping petals down to skin.The sunflower casts its shadows long in the August summer sun.
The others fade as they reach and strain in the darkness overcome.The stalk grows thick and strong above weak and sickly buds,
until the chill of fall’s strong winds leave them rotting in the mud.The honey suckles grow so supple
sweetly sprouting on the vine.
Their essence simply fragrant,
and their flavor so sublime.But this temporary jewel hangs so heavy overripe.
Its syrup grows so saccharine, as its blossoms fall to blight.In time the autumn comes to put an end to the others’ days.
They thrive within their season until their natural beauty fades.But all in all. beyond the fall, there’s one final season left to tend.
The frosty barren winter and its terrors, she transcends.The razor thorns of the winter’s rose protect her lovely stem.
It’s meager budding shape looked-over for more-contemporary trends.
Her blossoms went unnoticed by those busy courtesans.
While the others were all blooming,
grooming, and their petals shed,
their patrons had abandoned them,
dried up and left for dead.Leaving one lonesome shock of color
in that frozen garden glen.
For all of those the winter’s rose outlasts them in the end.by D. Ryan Lafferty
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All That We Will Leave
Be mindful of the things you do, be careful what you say.
Life is meant to be enjoyed and age the price we pay.Imagine it all ended; in fact one day it will.
Would the things that keep you up at night even matter still?The fire of time is greedy, consuming all it sees…
It gobbles up your hopes and plans then burns away your dreams.A warning now for all to hear, a sign for all to see…
The things we do and say today are all that we will leave.by D. Ryan Lafferty
Literary Crumbs: Poems & Short Stories to Savor by D. Ryan Lafferty 