What are the odds? Are they as random as I imagine them to be?

Random Odds

by Rose Marie Boyd

The days, long weeks, short years
New loves, old hates, the fears
The where’s, the what’s, the why’s
Wide grins, loud laughs, soft cries
Hothead, warm heart, cold feet
Burdens, demands to meet
Things to learn, to teach
People to hold, to reach
The challenge, triumphs, joys
Silence, the shouts, the noise
The weak defeating strong
Knowing what’s right from wrong
Fresh sights, strong tastes, the feel
Imagined, wished for, real
Deep wounds, rejection, pain
The wind, cold snow, wet rain
To know and trust a friend
To fight, to hurt and mend
Long tales, the truth, the lies
Big loses, wins, or ties
Anger, a curse, deaf ears
Too sad to shed the tears
Soft music in the breeze
Photos, mementos seized
To greet, enjoy, depart
Absence, a broken heart
Nature, a painting still
Ideas, a mind fulfilled
To have, misplace or find
A heart, a soul, a mind
To eat, to drink, bad taste
To save, to toss, much waste 
A dream, a thought not clear
Take hold, keep close or near
Fitness, health, the cancers
Questions, search, no answers
A birth, a life then death
First cries, one chance, last breath

© 2008 Poem by Rose Marie Boyd

IMAGE SOURCE PAGE: http://www.drewsmarketingminute.com/2011/11

A poem I wrote for a relative's wedding ceremony.

Shelf Life

Does love always taste the same?
No, over time its flavor changes;
 Its once-spicy tang mellows.
But add a pinch of understanding
Then pepper it with affection,
And it’ll store well in the heart’s cupboard,
Scrumptious and ready to be shared
At a moment’s notice.

© 2011 Poem by Rose Marie Boyd

When my father came down with Alzheimer's disease, we saw him slip away. At first it was for short bits of time; but then the lapses grew longer. Although his body lingered on for years, he no longer seemed to be with us. Where was he?

Present Yet Unaccounted For

The more unfocused minutes pass,
And sand slips through the hourglass,
The days, they seem to disappear,
What happens to them still unclear.

Though cause unknown, brainwaves resign
To be confused by common signs.
They seem to journey somewhere far
And flee the now in ways bizarre.

Perhaps they seek the distant past,
Nomads who roam through days recast,
For there the route was somewhat clear,
With far less conflict, far less fear.

Can minds demented, damned by fate
Have conquered time, have found the gate,
Unbolted it and used the means
To fade away like time machines?

Two poems inspired by the weather.


 Raindrops slide down transparent window panes.
Salty teardrops caress a hollow cheek.
Torrents plummet, the thunderous storm wanes.
Sobs exhausted, the future seems less bleak.
© 2008 Poem by Rose Marie Boyd

Weathering the Storm

Rain falls and gloom prevails
But light breaks through the clouds
And reflects hope against the tears
Creating an optimistic rainbow of light
With a promise of bright tomorrows.

© 2006 Poem by Rose Marie Boyd

I spotted this small bridge in the middle of someone's front yard. It didn't go anywhere. It got me thinking where I might be headed. Do you know where you'll end up?

THE Bridge of Life

Where does it lead, this span so short,
   the days, the years that time distorts?
Its tread is worn from soles that passed,
   that took it slow or crossed it fast.

Hold tight the rails, impede the stride,
    or wind up on the other side.
The end traversed, the last plateau,
   what lies beyond…a flame, a glow?

                           © 2008 Photo and Poem by Rose Marie Boyd