The fury of last night’s storm
left sodden confetti on the
sidewalk, and the birds
timidly peeping in the morning
calm. I cleaned out my
closet – the part that was
yours – by candlelight, and
I scattered your memory
like ashes in the wind.
I thought about the night
we danced in the rain and
giggled like children out past
curfew. And I thought
about the arguments about
dishes in the sink. I flipped
through the memories like
pages in a magazine, only
stopping at the most colorful
images.
I remember the smell of
your neck and the heat of
your hands, but your face
has been swept away like
sand from the boardwalk.
As the sun climbs higher,
the birds grow brave and
begin to sing again.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Thursday, November 3, 2011
One
Your voice rang like golden chimes
when you sang your love to a
throng of strangers. But
they didn't see how your heart
split and ripped inside your chest.
They mistook your tears for
sweat, your misery for art.
From the shadows of the wing,
I watched you die in minute
ways. Behind your mask of fame,
I saw your grimace and the
ashen hue of your face. Beneath
the shield of well-toned muscle,
I saw the blackened heart.
As you wept for her, I grieved
my own loss, knowing that she
was the one, and I am merely
one. I left before you ended
the song, hating my one-ness,
while loving my one.
when you sang your love to a
throng of strangers. But
they didn't see how your heart
split and ripped inside your chest.
They mistook your tears for
sweat, your misery for art.
From the shadows of the wing,
I watched you die in minute
ways. Behind your mask of fame,
I saw your grimace and the
ashen hue of your face. Beneath
the shield of well-toned muscle,
I saw the blackened heart.
As you wept for her, I grieved
my own loss, knowing that she
was the one, and I am merely
one. I left before you ended
the song, hating my one-ness,
while loving my one.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Chasing Fireflies
By the light of the moon
and the chime of the stars,
the cricket calls out to
you in my absence.
I left my voice in the
sunlight, like a child
abandons a plaything
in favor of chasing
fireflies.
With the patience of time,
I dance in the comfort
of darkness to the
cicadas' song while I
wait for you to join me.
The anticipation tastes
like honeysuckle syrup
and brings a smile to
my eyes.
When you arrive and we
dance together, our
eyes will tell the stories
our voices once knew.
And our hearts will
take flight as we leave
past worry in favor
of chasing fireflies.
and the chime of the stars,
the cricket calls out to
you in my absence.
I left my voice in the
sunlight, like a child
abandons a plaything
in favor of chasing
fireflies.
With the patience of time,
I dance in the comfort
of darkness to the
cicadas' song while I
wait for you to join me.
The anticipation tastes
like honeysuckle syrup
and brings a smile to
my eyes.
When you arrive and we
dance together, our
eyes will tell the stories
our voices once knew.
And our hearts will
take flight as we leave
past worry in favor
of chasing fireflies.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
One Way
There is only
One way to win
A stubborn heart
Like mine, a
Wilderness untamed.
There are no paths
Or smooth paved
Roads. Just the
Tangled brush
And uneven ground.
Surrounding the
Prize is a thicket
Of thorns. No
Machete can
Clear it; no fire
Will destroy it.
There is only
One way to win
A stubborn heart
Like mine.
Humility, confidence
And grace.
One way to win
A stubborn heart
Like mine, a
Wilderness untamed.
There are no paths
Or smooth paved
Roads. Just the
Tangled brush
And uneven ground.
Surrounding the
Prize is a thicket
Of thorns. No
Machete can
Clear it; no fire
Will destroy it.
There is only
One way to win
A stubborn heart
Like mine.
Humility, confidence
And grace.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Sharing the Spotlight...Publishing Family
http://chakletcoffeebooks.com/index.html
Please take a moment (or more) to visit the homepage of Chaklet Coffee Books. Browse the bookstore for a variety of unique and interesting novels, multiple author anthologies, and poetry collections with dramatic adult content.
Please take a moment (or more) to visit the homepage of Chaklet Coffee Books. Browse the bookstore for a variety of unique and interesting novels, multiple author anthologies, and poetry collections with dramatic adult content.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Empowerment
I just read an interesting blog about empowerment, and I would like to know what others think about the meaning of empowerment. What does it mean to you? What makes you feel empowered? What does it mean to empower someone else?
I feel more empowered now than I ever have. Ever. That tremendous feeling is due, in large part, to my wonderful friend and publisher, Miriam L. Jacobs. She urged me to start writing again after many years of leaving my gift inactive. The simple act of stringing words together in a way that was meaningful to me was completely empowering to me. It gave my life a purpose that had been lacking for far too long. I was born to be a writer. I ignored that fact for a long time, but the need to write never really went away. It got buried and shuffled and pushed aside, but it was still there.
Now, as a result of her friendship and encouragement, I am a published poet. I dreamed of that accomplishment when I was younger. I couldn't imagine anything better than having my own poetry collection published. At the end of last year, I had the honor of placing my book - MY book - on the shelf with the books of all the authors I have enjoyed reading over the years. That was a truly monumental experience for me.
I'm dreaming new dreams now! I hope you are accomplishing yours and dreaming up others, too!
I feel more empowered now than I ever have. Ever. That tremendous feeling is due, in large part, to my wonderful friend and publisher, Miriam L. Jacobs. She urged me to start writing again after many years of leaving my gift inactive. The simple act of stringing words together in a way that was meaningful to me was completely empowering to me. It gave my life a purpose that had been lacking for far too long. I was born to be a writer. I ignored that fact for a long time, but the need to write never really went away. It got buried and shuffled and pushed aside, but it was still there.
Now, as a result of her friendship and encouragement, I am a published poet. I dreamed of that accomplishment when I was younger. I couldn't imagine anything better than having my own poetry collection published. At the end of last year, I had the honor of placing my book - MY book - on the shelf with the books of all the authors I have enjoyed reading over the years. That was a truly monumental experience for me.
I'm dreaming new dreams now! I hope you are accomplishing yours and dreaming up others, too!
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