like sunset on a perfect day

his little boy hug 

"hello"

lit the moments  

in sunshine rays,

for a few hours,  

and then . . .

his little boy kiss  

"good-bye"

took my breath away  

- in awesome wonder  -

like sunset:

on a perfect day. 

notes:  a redo of an even shorter verse “good-bye kiss” from several years ago.

The prompt from Poetry Jam this week is "Sunset".
  
photo:  Hawaiian Sunset. - M.J. Bourke
   
© 2014 Wendy Bourke

in sepia

again, last night, I fell asleep

in sweet words

and sepia visions.

you put aside my ancient book

– the great drama of existence –

and kissed my forehead 

and I dreamed:

we were meandering,

free spirits,

through lovely streets

on one of our good walks,

past . . .

delicious book shops

and flower stands

and fragrant café wafts

of coffee and fresh baked bread aromas.

my heart was light as air,

for it felt as though,

we were

. . . pleasantly . . .

tousled on life’s windy breezes

while scraps of blurry print

and stereoscopic images

fluttered gently about us,

in warm ecru linen ashes:

little enigmas, I didn’t question . . .

and in the peace, I said:  I think, I must be dreaming,

and you –  kissed my forehead 

and whispered . . . rest. 

note:  Sepia ink was used for writing and drawing until the 19^th century.  As with all ink – it fades with exposure to sunlight.  Sepia tones are used in photography – the hue resembling the effect of aging in old photographs.

photos:  antique stereoscope with sepia stereoscope cards (stereoscopes are devices – popular from the 1850s to the 1930s in which stereoscopy, or 3D imaging,  created or enhanced an illusion of depth).

photos of Paris taken by my father during World War II atop my university 17^th century literature anthology – W. Bourke 

 © 2014 Wendy Bourke  

where there is life – there is hope

as we neared the place 

where prayers  

were the last best hope,

the lines became so blurred  

it was hard to tell 

the deserts from the seas . . .

the first warnings  

of global warming:  a far off, 

far-fetched distant memory –

and then, a miracle happened:  

one by one humanity 

stopped poisoning

the planet that they shared,

for slowly, it became terrifyingly clear –  

all hope was lost

without a world 

that could support . . . 

life

“While there’s life, there’s hope.” Marcus Tullius Cicero, Roman Philosopher 106 BC–43 BC. 

“Where there's hope, there's life.” Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl, 1947.

note:  the prompt from Poetry Jam this week was “Deserts” – physical deserts and metaphorical deserts. 

photo:  Sea Water – W. Bourke

 © 2014 Wendy Bourke