Tag: Poems

My Last Day on Earth

Posted on July 20, 2021 by Kathryn Atkins

With One Foot Dangling Over the Edge of the Universe

“If today were the last day of your life, would
you want to do what you are about to do today?”
~ Steve Jobs

Rumor has it that Steve Jobs asked himself this question every day in the mirror. It’s said that if he had enough days in a row when the answer was no, he’d do something else. Jobs was dead at 56.

Today, we watched another visionary dent the universe (almost literally). If today were Jeff Bezos’s last day on earth, he’d probably be okay with it. I’d be okay if it were my last day having watched his accomplishment from way down here. Good for him. Good for them. I like my brother, too, and I’d take him up with me.

WHAT’S IT FOR? Going into space isn’t for anything, except to DO IT. They didn’t make money, they spent LOTS. They learned even more, and they proved their worth to themselves, if no one else. Did anyone else really matter? Probably not.

WHAT DOES IT REMIND ME OF?
The Bezos launch reminded me of years past when we raced for space with other countries. Now our local visionaries compete with one another, and the media runs amok. It’s all wonderful. We used to rely on a war machine to feed for innovation and invention. Now, our CEOs feed their curiosity and, okay, their egos, but that’s okay.

IT’S MY LAST DAY ON EARTH [Pretend!]

I watched the rocket ship, walked my dog, listened to an amazing woman Melissa Renzi share her poetry, her love, and her vulnerability.

THIS IS THE POEM FROM MELISA RENZI’s BLOG POST on 7/6/21

(I challenge you to get through it with dry eyes.)

Love more today

Inspired by and in honor of Danay DiVirgilio

Love more today
Not tomorrow, not yesterday, not next year

Love more today
This very second, right now
You can do it, I believe in you
Be present with the feelings
All of them, all of you
This is not new
Since the beginning of time

In the infinity that is and was always
There is only one thing
And that thing is Love

Love more today
Not tomorrow, not yesterday, not next year

I see you, I hear you, I love you
I feel your Love, I feel your fear
I see you shedding a tear
All the Love you’re withholding
Give it up, give it away, let it go
Your life is unfolding

Love more today
Really, it is the only way
Close your eyes, yes, let’s do it right now
Send your love to someone who needs it the most

Send your love to someone who is easy to love

Now to someone who is hard to love
See, love doesn’t know the difference
Love is the great equalizer
Breaking through barriers of time and space

With total ease and infinite grace

Love is bigger than here and now

Love is wonder, love is how.
Love is deeper than good or bad
It’s so much wider than happy or sad

Love is not a drop in the ocean

Love is the ocean

So love more today
Not tomorrow, not yesterday, not next year

Really darling, there is nothing to fear
Open your eyes to the wisdom of love
See the world through its freedom, a dove

From high up above and all the way down

Love the whole rainbow, love the whole town

Love the sadness and love the grief
Love the Joy and love the belief
That Love is forever

And before I go, I want you to know:

It is okay to laugh and it is okay to cry

It is okay to ask “Why?”
Yes, really I ask you, I ask you to try

To love more today
In honor of the Spirit that is Danay

-Melissa Renzi

Amherst, MA

July 2020

*The words “Love more today” first appeared in an email from Michael DiVirgilio, sharing the news of Danay’s transition with family and friends. He asked friends to “Love More Today” as a way to honor her memory.

PS – I wrote this poem just days after Danay’s transition last summer. I read it at the memorial service under the trees in her backyard. Her presence was felt that day in the palpable Love that was there. And in the breeze of the trees above. Today it is a year. Honoring this beautiful human, friend, teacher, mother, mama. It was such a joy knowing you, friend. I treasure you always. Thank you for showing up in all the ways you do in my life and in the life of so many.

Good things, darling.

Love more today.

# # #

I hope it’s okay with you, Melissa, that I shared your poem. If this were my last day on earth, I would be happy, hanging one foot over the edge of our shared universe. Thank you for writing this piece and letting us know you better.

Thanks to Pixels.com for the image.

Here’s What I Want from You

Posted on June 1, 2021 by Kathryn Atkins

What I want you to know.

Enough

Posted on October 13, 2018 by Kathryn Atkins

photography of body of water — Photo by Willian Was on Pexels.com

I Wish You Enough

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

 I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more. 

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger. 

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. 

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

I think we need to talk about “enough” today. I feel like our society does not ever have enough. We don’t have enough money. Time. Love. Youth. “Soul.” Well, that’s simply not true, is it? We have all we need. We can choose to have enough of all of those. We may not know it when our bills don’t get paid. Or we are out of time to do the things we want. We may feel unloved today. Or we may feel old. We may not have “soul” as we approach the written page or the musical paper or the dance floor. “I got nuthin’.” Or “I don’t have enough of what it takes,” we say to ourselves.

That may be true today. But tomorrow, we may have that glimmer. That spark. That patience. Or we may have a way to save or make money. Find time to do what we want. Or we stop to feel a little extra sliver of appreciation for the few things we have. Even an old beat up pair of shoes is actually pretty sweet if we stop to be grateful, and not compare ourselves to someone down the block or around the corner. We may choose to be glad to have any shoes at all. Or feet.

That’s it. We can do so much if we stop, take stock, and appreciate who we are and how lucky we are. Our attitude determines our life view. And of course, everything is relative. We didn’t know we had enough until we wake up one morning and we’re out of whatever “that” was. Food. Money. Time. Because if you don’t wake up, for instance, you are definitely out of time. But for today . . .

. . . you have enough.

The poem above is published in my collection, Giving My Self to the Wind.

Add A Brick

Posted on September 19, 2018 by Kathryn Atkins

I stood up in front of the small crowd of people last night. Naked.

brick building with stairs — Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Kidding. I might as well have been. Two other authors and I were reading from our work, and I was the least accomplished of the trio by far. So, I can choose to engage in self-flagellation . . . or I can view it as a brave opportunity to add a brick to the building I’m constructing. The building of me.

Notice… the building at left has fire escapes! That’s me, too. I’m a building with what I hope are little escapes to help me exit the building when I need to save myself. OR they can equally be ladders or steps for when my wonderful friends and family come up to the floor I’m on that day and chat. Solve problems. Hang out. Are you ready for a climb?

If I’m not building (or being a building), I’m backsliding. I’ve stopped growing. Stopped trying. Stopped embarrassing my self — when that by itself is a lovely (albeit painful) way to get better. Immersion. Hanging it out. Hearing and seeing other people do it differently.

I was not horrible, no. But I am not “there” yet either. Which is silly. We’re never going to get there until we’re dead. OR until we stop trying.

So add a brick today. Or as Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.”

Here’s the event, by the way. If you want to come by, we love audiences… even if it scares us! And here’s a photo of me at the event. With clothes on.

Piano Hands

Posted on January 20, 2018 by Kathryn Atkins

Looking down, my hands are young.

Little nails. Little fingers.

Skipping on the keys.

Smooth, dainty skin.

I am six.

From farther up I’m looking down at my hands upon the keys.

Bigger reach, longer nails. A little polish

Dancing on the keys.

Taut, youthful skin.

I am sixteen.

Looking down, my hands are shopworn.

They play the music that comes through me.

My fingers waltz on the keys now.

Drying, aging skin.

I am fifty.

My gaze descends to my hands resting on the keys.

As I lift and lower, music emerges,

But alas, my fingers lumber on the keys.

Misshapen knuckles; veins popping blue.

I am seventy.

I look down upon my hands.

My fingers hover and shake,

Taking dry aim at the keys.

Gnarled, twisted, useless hands

I am too old.

They wheel me over. I bend toward the piano.

I hit a few notes with tentative strokes, and

I cry out in frustration. Then I remember.

I remember and I weep for the lovely melodies

That still skip in my heart.

* * * * * *

I am pushing toward the seventies decade, and I have this lovely video of my son and me playing a duet! This is one melody that will skip in my heart for a long time.

Note: The poem appeared in the California Writers Club 100th Anniversary Anthology called West Winds Centennial, published in 2010. The California Writers Club is a 501 (c)3 organization that was founded in 1909(!) by honorary members Jack London, George Sterling, Joaquin Miller and Ina Coolbrith.