aging in the year of dying

Pictured Poem created by Tremaine L. Loadholt

aging in the year of dying

the dog is going blind
to her, as I fade into the
darkness of our hallway, I’m
a blot–an image she isn’t
sure is me

she’s smart–she waits
in the living room where light
lingers and only moves
when she sees me re-emerge
from the belly of
our home

I step back into her view
with a smile on my face
and greet her as If I
haven’t seen her before

I know what it feels like
to see something clearly
again

Tina

A Haibun

Tina Turner, image from Smooth Radio

I have decided to give you your flowers while you’re still here. A wonder–a mystic amongst Gods and the ungodly. You have always been captivating. I never wanted to sing. I never wanted to dance. But I have always wanted to write, and you paved the way for me to have this voice–my voice in a world of chaotic flows and shiftless thoughts. You have conquered a sea of endless pain and lived to testify.

Millions of people sing your songs at the top of their lungs–breaths poured into the air that land at your feet. We still stand in awe of you; so incredibly in love with you, we speak your name . . . Tina.

Legends can be born
To be what legends should be
You are so much more


And now, one of my favorite Tina Turner songs.

Tina Turner, What’s Love Got To Do With It?

sustenance

a tanka

Pictured Poetry. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

On some mornings, I reminisce while I’m cooking; I think about him, think about her, and then I move on.

*For those of you who might be wondering about the non-traditional usage of the form: I went with 5-7-5-7-5 instead of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables for this one. Also, it’s about food & love; not your typical tanka subjects. Sometimes for literary art, you’ve gotta be a bit of a rebel.