The valley of their moody discontent
was littered with illusions that became
a monumental momentary glint
that blundered on the battlefield of blame.
Their bickering beget a bitter crop
of grievances for one divided whole,
a couple poised to scale the mountaintop
together, but without a common goal.
But then he tripped and banged the water pail
against his head so hard it made her sick.
Compassion rose within her like a gale
of cleansing air. Disaster did the trick.
So, climbing hand in hand, they claimed their hill
where happiness now reigns for Jack and Jill.
Mary Boren, 2016
View discussion on this poem.
The source of the photo is a mystery. If known to be in violation of copyright, please advise.
If you were me, you’d figure out
the best response to stomp-and-pout
is none at all. Predictably,
a burst of blather brought about
by hormones is a mystery
you’d figure out if you were me.
If I were you, I hope I’d try
to let the tempest saunter by.
Annoyed by thoughtless things I do,
I’d roll my eyes and heave a sigh,
then look at me with eyes anew.
I hope I’d try if I were you.
The sum of us is greater than
the formula for Woman/Man.
When halves are undivided, plus
the whole picks up where love began,
no difference is worth the fuss
or greater than the sum of us.
2012 Mary Boren
“It took virtually everything I owned, and showed me the folly of placing value on things of this world.” -Charles Boren
“Get up and grab your clothes!” No time for “Why?”;
no second chance to act, the life he knew
upended in a blink. With gaping eye,
the howling monster spiraled into view.
They fled by car, then watched it from a bridge.
Like flocks of birds, the pulverized debris
of pavement from their block took flight, the ridge
of dwellings devastated instantly.
And in its aftermath, the storm exposed
unyielding walls between them. Slab and slate
wiped clean, he left, she stayed — their history hosed
like muddy footprints out a garden gate.
The bedrock of a home once shared with her,
he counts among the things that never were.
2007 Mary Boren
Aftermath of the 1997 Jarrell Tornado – The Most Intense Tornado Damage Ever Photographed
I stand indicted, vilified, convicted
on fabricated evidence entwined
with figments of scenarios depicted
as gospel in the cauldron of your mind.
“I hate you” metamorphs into “Don’t leave”
in seven seconds flat, and back around.
A roller coaster ride without reprieve,
chaotic sand becomes the common ground.
And following the trail of devastation
along the tracks of torn relationships
that hinge on black-and-white evaluation,
the cargo’s tossed each time the balance tips.
But even through the worst you say and do,
I never will renounce my love for you.
2013 Mary Boren