Home for the Holidays

Home for the holidays

Cliche, cliche, cliche

The past is not present

Yet triggers abound

Old photograph,

Accumulates dust

VHS of The best

Of Louis Frank

Family banter

Brings up bile

Of the ultimate past

Reinforcing the game boxes 

With tape

Wearing headdresses 

For a laugh

Teasing small children

The gift wishes

Include Barbie 

her pink automobile

Bribing one of us

So the choice of tree

At the Christmas farm

Will finish before dark

Will allow us

To drink hot cider, 

Obligatory cinnamon sticks, sooner

Biggest tree

Arguments abound

Let the lights go

Honoring

Honoring for Andy

It never gets old

Honoring you

Honoring her

Has it really been that long?

It seems but yesterday

Because the memories

Are so strong

Her voice ringing in my head

Her kindness weighing on my heart

With dark news

The generosity of one

Taken from all of us

Way, way, way too soon

Then, you and I

 Never able to look at each other

For so long

It separated us

It was massive

The weight of it

The power of it

You just can’t shelve it

You never grieve 

All at once

But there you are, again

 one more year

Older

Yet she never grew older

Which will keep us

From also getting older

Because we can keep

Honoring you

As we honor her

Susan Frank

April 5, 2018

Christmas

THE HOLIDAY

How is a person

Supposed to celebrate

The holidays

When there is so much pain

In this world

How is a person

Supposed to be joyful

When you are so far away

From the life that you desire

How is a person

Supposed to believe

In the miracle birth

The red clothed fat-bellied guy

With the eight tiny reindeer

When children are starving

Millions are homeless

Racism is never ending

The world is a hostile place

I will tell you

The smile of a child

The first hot sip of a maple latte

The light of a million stars

on the early morning walk

The laugh you get from a great joke

Told in desperation

For a moment not to be lost

The gratitude of a friend

Whose jewelry you bought

The money you spent

That goes to a good cause

The time you know

Will be yours and ours

When they come home

To spend it with you

The holiday

Appreciate the moment

The holiday

Appreciate the time

The holiday

Appreciate the love, always

The Most Impactful Day of My Life

THE MOST IMPACTFUL DAY

BY SUSAN FRANK

PERHAPS THIS WAY

SOME THINGS 

WON’T CHANGE

Yes

It is true

How do you choose

One day

That has impacted you

More than any other

Especially

At my age

Yes

I am old

Relationships

So many

Weddings

Children born

Grandchildren

Graduations

Illness

Loss

Betrayal

All full of impact

Yes

But to choose one

I can say

It may always be

The day we brought 

A Christmas tree

To our friend

With all the singing children

From her classes

We stood around the tree

Outside her home

Snow falling

Or that is how I remember it

We  sang carols

We decorated the tree

My tears turned to ice

I looked at our mutual friend

It was all we could do

To keep on singing

And not fall apart

It has been eleven christmases

Since we have lost her

But the day remains

Etched in memory

In all we might do

To keep her close

To keep her with us

To never let her go

She is with us forever

Because of that day

Because of that memory

Because of that love

APRIL 5, 2019

You Two, Incorrigible

You Two, Incorrigible

 April 14, 2015 

It’s us against them 

nowadays

It never used to be

that way

It was just 

us.

Snowglobe us.

Peeps, animal crackers, lunch, laughter

us.

Children’s problems

Family issues

us.

But we had it all-under control

just us.

Now,

We don’t know how 

to think about anything.

If we spent the amount 

of time

it would take 

to process everything

We would be more processed

Than all the Cheezits 

in a supersize box.

She came to me 

in my dream,

you know.

She was youthful

Beautiful

Her voice,

as we remember it,

Sassy, tough,

Full of conviction

Strength of thousands,

Strength for all of us.

just us.

Us.

She told me 

Not to tell you

I am sure she knew

that I would

After all,

it was never me, 

then  you,

then her,

It was always,

Us.

When I did tell you anyway

I am sure she knew 

I would;

When I did anyway

We laughed,

We ached,

But we laughed anyway.

The two of us

We laughed

imagining

She would be shaking her head in heaven.

She’d say,

You two,

Incorrigible.  

Chaos Theory poem 2011

Chaos Theory

Upon the occasion of another birthday

April 5, 2011

Chaos theory claims connection

with creativity

Issues in infancy indicate imagination

a writer’s paradise

Yet those who have sought control

Meticulous measure

 Color compulsion to combat anxiety

Breathing focus

All these pale in comparison to chaos

of thought, of action

Family dysfunction, fantasies to fruition

Wall postings

Tell truth, tell all, testimony of mental torture

As caretaker

All information breeds chaos to wellness

As of wellness

A lifetime of attempts to order a chaotic world

Sixteen measure phrases

Rondos, variations, ostinatos

Patterns, continued

Motions, choreographed

Alliteration to allies, annual installments

Poetry for prayer

Form becomes art

Creativity breeds connection

Connection becomes communication

Communication turns chaos into creativity

Chaos as creativity?

Ah, no-

I differ in this regard

Creativity creates communication

a form of prayer

A creative answer

a letting go of order in a chaotic world.

I read one morning- Another Poem of Remembrance

WE THRIVE ON IT

By Susan Frank

April 8, 2016

In celebration of all our rituals together

As they may disappear..

I read one morning

Silent sustained reading

A quotation that brought me

Back to us

The quote was this:

“We survive by ritual”

We don’t thrive on it

We don’t ask for it

We don’t run with it

We don’t live by it

We Survive by it.

The rituals have changed

So much over the years

How can we imagine

That we thought 

They wouldn’t change?

And now,

On the edge of another 

Possible change

You, all these years

Later

Is it really time? 

RITUAL

We survive by ritual

Peeps, animal crackers,

Yellow Snoopy lunch boxes

Annual poems on birthdays

Morning cafeteria chats

Reminiscences of times beloved

Lunches of many colors

Dreams of cures 

Laughs over tastes, stories,

A phrase, a gift, a child’s folly

We survive by ritual

Mourning our losses

Shared grief

Chances deteriorated

Notes of condolences

Fighting together 

For what is right

Owning up

To our falls

Mistakes

Having our voices heard

If only by each other

Loving Topo Gigio

Him loving us

We shall always survive 

By ritual

It embraces us

It envelops us

It consumes us

It welcomes us 

We wear it as armor

A coat of comfort

A shawl of solidarity

And I ask again,

How will I continue my course

Of ritualistic survival

Upon your leavetaking?