Bent bristles and blended bananas

You were the bent bristles
against my skin,
causing me to rethink
the situation I was in.

Your continuous brushing
left me wanting more;
I could finally see a rainbow
peeking through my door.

The color you displayed
forever touched my heart,
and my world turned so gray
when at last, we had to part.

Sort of like blended bananas
when they’re left out all day,
their pretty yellow hue
turns the color of dismay.

And it’s so very sad
the way we both had to leave;
the mere thought
is still so hard to conceive.

But at long last,
I’m seeing color once again;
my rainbow was always here
nestled deep within.

I think I was holding on
too tight to your light
when all along,
this was really just my fight.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://pixabay.com/photos/reflection-woman-silhouette-umbrella-1082159/

Writing prompt: Bent bristles and blended bananas

Puffed pastries and bric-a-brac

Familiar chapters
The lifestyles we all once knew
Alas gone from view

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/space-room-interior-empty-4231460/

Writing prompt: Puffed pastries and bric-a-brac

Something to cling to…

Amid the chaos
of our cluttered world,
sometimes we have only
but a past moment,
something distinctly different
from all the other colorless days.
And that one solitary moment,
the one we treasure
with fondness and love
gives us something to cling to
when we can no longer see
a single thread of light.
Those rare moments exist
to reassure us during the times
when the dark dares
to snuff out our light.
That one blessed memory
is often what unexpectedly
sees us through.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/black-and-white-monochrome-people-2590418/

Memories of you…

Sky blue eyes
And a soft squishy belly
Kind warm smile
Often watching the telly

Passionately patriotic
And oh so humble
Hardly ever a complaint
Or any kind of grumble

Lover of his country
A soldier he became
Flying the flag high
In every parade

Talented carpenter
Was his dedicated trade
Whistling while he worked
A lovely tune and serenade

Green thumbed man
And lover of nature
His dedication to God
Should have made him a preacher

Skilled kite maker
And master kite flyer
Practically nothing
Could ever go higher

Lifesaver candies
And minty cigarettes
Things he would one day
Very much regret

Was it black coffee
Or earl grey tea?
As I contentedly bounced
On his never tiring knee

Crackers and sardines
He shared them well
Convincingly trying
To tell me they were swell

Tums for indigestion
He always had a pack
And even though it pained him
His smile never lacked

Rosy red cheeks
And an almost bald head
Read his Bible every night
Before going off to bed

Sadly enough
It’s now been too long
I can’t even remember
His favorite song

He now rests with grandma
Still whistling his serenades
And his kindhearted demeanor
Will certainly never fade

I miss him immensely
He gave me my love for life
But I’m so very thankful
He’s now free from pain and strife

© 2021 Michelle Cook

*This is an older poem, written in 2017. It was written in loving memory of my grandfather, who meant the world to me.


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/beach-bird-nature-ocean-outdoors-1846694/

Inner battles

People come
and people go,
like the weather
is it all for show?

My deepest desire
is to see someone stay,
to keep a promise
and never go away.

Maybe I’m just needy
and want it all,
I tend to dream
of the impossible.

Regardless of everything
I want the love of a close friend,
one in which
I can always depend.

I believe that life
gives us what we give,
this is what allows us
to fully live.

So I try to relinquish
the tender parts of my heart,
I’ve always done this
from the very start.

But I know deep down,
I’ll never be the only one,
for I am merely
a fraction of the sum.

And yet sometimes I still forget
there isn’t just a “me,”
the equation is more
than what I can see.

Plain as day
and black as night,
this dose of reality
is my darkest plight.

I remind myself to accept
all that I can’t change,
even when life seeks
to rearrange.

There is nothing else
I can possibly do,
I can’t hold on
without the glue.

I’ve become accustomed
to letting life move past,
for I know dreams
they often don’t last.

I only wilt further
when I choose to hold too tight.
These are the battles
I continue to fight.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/tulip-wilted-dying-wilting-flower-3459282/