Across the ages, poetry has served as a balm for our souls, delving into our innermost depths and mirroring our inner worlds. This month, our Tomato poets skillfully encapsulate a diverse spectrum of moments, emotions, and contemplations on existence.

WAITING FOR FOREVER

In Flint, Michigan

I passed an orange house

Across from a green house

With a yellow car in the driveway.

And both houses were separated by

Yards of shallow white snow.

The blue house down the street

Had footprints in the snow going to

A brown door that was between two

Windows and both windows had lights

To show those who lived there

The way home.

The cold in the air under a

New bright blue sky

Whispered of coming changes.

And days later, when I reached

My own home, all I could see

Was beige sand, beige sand

And grey waveless water

Waiting for the hot summer

To come and break the still air

Filled with no sounds except for

The squawk of one seagull

Flying overhead pretending

The day would last forever.

~ Marjorie J. Levine, author Road Trips and Becoming Until

The After Life                                                                                        

When I am wounded beyond repair,

bury me in a plain pine box.

Do not gift wrap me

in a shiny coffin

trimmed with carved mahogany elements.

Wrap me in a simple shroud,

and give my daughters all of my purses

and good jackets.

Decorative details are for the living.

There will be no zippers or buttons underground.

Sediment will keep me warm

while I dissolve into the land,

and my feet will never be restricted

by boots with heels and laces.

I will no longer need socks or shoes,

as I will have nowhere to go,

other than back into the ashes

of the ever-spinning earth

as it continues to absorb humankind

and be replenished.

~Nicole Freezer Rubens, author The Long Pause and the Short Breath

As Time Goes By

Sipping a Cappuccino in a local coffee bar,

A few steps from my place, really not too far,

Watching warmly dressed people hurrying by,

Wondering where they’re headed and exactly why,

I sit here, people watching, while my life is on hold,

Am I wasting precious time as the coffee gets cold?

Worrying if life, scurrying by so fast ,

Like one of the well dressed girls rushing past,

The waiter warns me ever so politely,

The place is closing, please pay the fee,

I understand and certainly have plans to flee,

To the next appointment so important to me.

Is time spent quietly really a waste?

Must we fill up empty spaces with such haste?

No, not really, if it isn’t your taste!

Relax and enjoy the moment. That is all we have.

~Carol Ostrow, author “Poems From My Pandemic Pen”

Believe

The ducks swim in the winter wind and quack away
The squirrels do their acrobatic routines on powerlines and get those nuts and goodies hidden
Poets and writers look for fresh ways to say it better and enjoy their craft
Geese follow
their leader with the large piece of bread hanging from her mouth
The US government will punish the guilty ones with their fake tan and hopefully wearing an orange jumpsuit next to Guiliani
What you used to be Mr. Mayor no longer counts
The good people still count not the phony ones
People have the right to live their lives peacefully and joyfully
Hang in there
Be safe and true
Believe

~Madlyn Epstein Steinhart, author “Put Your Boots on and Dance in the Rain,” and “Dear Heart”