In all and everything I’ve lost
I’ve learned a lesson-
at a cost.
Each price collected swiftly, snatched
from hands too surprised to catch,
to grasp, to clasp, to reach – extend,
too confused to comprehend
the meaning of this painful trade,
Far too dizzy to find
the benefit behind the price I paid.
But every time the shock, the anger, the pain,
slowly ebbs and disappears like rain,
and a lesson is revealed again.
Being hopeful gets exhausting.
Or just maybe- (I don’t mean to whine)
it’s giving all you have.
All. The. Time.
Always climbing, never quite reaching the top.
I could never stop,
giving less than my best,
but right now it’s all a bit of a mess.
Always, always, another test,
another hurdle, another goal,
another weight, another role.
Always reaching for that perfect end
only to find a ‘next thing’ waiting-
Something has to give or change.
It’s time for me to rearrange,
reexamine, perhaps exchange
some things I must have mistaken to be real,
some dreams I might not ever feel.
It’s time to let old wounds heal.
I’ll figure it out, I’m sure I’ll be fine,
It’s just going to take a little time.
So slow the clock, for a moment please.
Sometimes a moment is all you need.
A heavy haze has settled
with a weariness that wears
on each and every moment,
turning gazes into stares.
The rain outside hums sweetly,
a mournful lullaby.
(Reaching out to those inside.)
The few left for the night,
safe and silent
The beach is best at night.
The tug of warm washed waves on the sand
and the coolness of the grains
falling in between your toes
like sugar off a spoon…
Each time I walk the line
between the ocean and the land
bent down, with my hands out in the water
and my feet sinking in the sand,
I picture those across the sea
their own feet sinking on a shore in Spain
looking out across the waves,
the sea filling the divide between us.
The moon illuminating man and tide.
And in this quiet moment
there is nothing else alive.
Written Spring 2010
I think this may still be a work in progress. It was inspired by a walk at night in an old historic area. I’m not sure I’ve quite gotten what I wanted to capture yet though, so I would be especially grateful for any feedback on this one!!
I walked the streets we knew
No one saw me there.
Just a shadow of my former self,
a gentle breeze
of chilly air.
I took my time.
No one seemed to care.
memories we left hanging all around,
when suddenly I froze.
My heart upon the ground.
For standing in a window,
for all the world to see,
lay the few and fragile bits
left of our history.
I saw a few family heirlooms locked up in a case,
my grandmother’s topaz ring,
my mother’s crystal vase,
our sign was there, the one we hung above our door,
so was the pail I used to hold my things
when I scrubbed the kitchen floor.
The china I never wanted to use
now sits serving dust upon a shelf.
Someday I’m sure someone
will buy it for themselves.
Honestly, it stung a bit to see
the world was moving on,
our cherished golden days
lived and quickly gone.
I had to leave then.
My visit over, through.
So I wandered back into
the streets we knew
and found myself in memories again.
I found myself with you.
Written July 18-19, 2014
I’ve been in a bit of a writing rut these past two weeks. (Mainly due to time constraints.) So I’ve mostly just been playing my little word game. Here is one from a while back, hope you enjoy! (Apologies if it seems a wee bit dreary for a Friday…I had to use that word…)
A dreary sky gives dreary thoughts
voice inside my head,
and the echoes of fears unmet
flood and haunt the paths I’ve tread.
Running never quiets them,
only gives them pause.
I think I’ve come to realize though,
you can never change what was.
I have wandered many miles in my shoes
and learned the lessons there,
I think it may be time for me
to try another pair.
Written January 26, 2014
Words I had to use: dreary, running, shoe
Image Copyright: Kati Bergman 2014
We’ve all heard the tale of the tortoise and rabbit,
that rabbit that raced all the time out of habit,
who set out to prove that speed was the way
shaving off seconds of time everyday.
‘Til a slow moving tortoise came and ruined it all,
slowly plodding away while rabbit napped on the mall.
Because slow and steady wins the race,
and that tortoise kept a slow steady pace.
He taught us all a thing or two.
Maybe it’s not winning or losing that’s important,
but how you do.
Written June 22, 2008
Words I had to use: shaving, rabbit, slowly.
Turn it up
just a little bit more
let the beat pound,
let the notes soar
as the impossible
becomes possible once more
in the lyrics,
the soul and the art
of the song as it
puts back together
July 9, 2014
A dream is made of fragile things,
of beads of dew,
and dragonfly wings,
of silky spools of spider threads,
and a ripple’s touch at water’s edge,
of footprints left along the shore,
and waves before they kiss the sand,
of rainbow smiles in a storm,
and falling leaves as they land.
A dream is made of fragile things,
that give a voice for hope to sing.
Written March 27, 2013
She dared me.
Prior to getting a blog I used to post a few of what I thought were my best poems on my Facebook account. I figured it would be a safe place to elicit feedback and criticisms from the people I knew best and held dearest.
It’s kind of funny though, how often so many things in life have unexpected consequences or lead to things you could never have anticipated.
This poem is a testament to that. I could never have imagined that by stretching myself as a writer and reaching out to my friends for their input I would be dared to write a poem about my picky eating habits. More specifically I never could have imagined that I would be dared to write about chicken fingers. Yes, you heard that correctly, chicken fingers.
Needless to say I took the dare. I mean, I’m no chicken!
Hope you enjoy…
When the Gods tired of ambrosia,
When sweet nectar made them sick,
It was you they turned to.
You were their golden pick.
Your crispy golden crust
On a moist and meaty middle,
Kept them chewing in content,
In delectable, succulent, nibbles
Thou finger of a chicken,
I wrote this ode to you.
May you forever grace our table,
And only the best of menus.
Written April 28, 2013