Lost in the noise of people living and the chaos of the breathing, we forget ourselves – all the passions, all the believing that feeds the dreamer and kills her at the same time. #poetryinmotion #mywritings
I told you who I was, but you never saw me. I showed you my soul, and you never heard me. So I slipped away one day, standing right before you. And no one ever heard the door close when love left.
“It’s a crown,” she boasted in front of a captive audience. “I found it in the ditch the other day after it rained. And you know the Nile flows through those waters and washes up stuff from the past. And on that day, it washed up none other than Cleopatra’s crown!” As she began toContinue reading “Show and Tell”
Sometimes I’m caught off guard when the thought of you hits me so hard, tugging at my memories of you, so rare and so few. You’re the one person I’ll never get over – no real closure ’til I get to hold you a little longer. Merry Christmas, Faith!
They were a gift with rules, an ordinance to conform and convert. But the falling snow summoned me to come play. Restless and burdened with sure death, I pulled on my new boot straps ’til each heel was snuggly in place. I didn’t have to look up to know you hovered over me, watching myContinue reading “The Boots”
Hell beckons me home where the promise of comfort soothes my restless feet and calms my aimless heart. The demons speak in familiar tones reminding me that I belong to this desolate, dying land where only the slightly insane can exist but never live. It is here that generations regenerate the myth that this isContinue reading “Oklahoma”
While I could not cry in front of you, I cried once for you – in front of strangers. But then again it could have just been the vodka, or life’s regrets – perhaps it was only allergies that caused such a commotion of compulsion. Who knows what God’s thinking in these rare moments ofContinue reading “Strangers”
I sit in this bookstore where I feel detached from the young and too young to be the old. Miles away, memories come in with the fog and rest their toes at the edge of the water. The only promise of life is the sound of fury from beyond what only the lost can see.Continue reading “Sitting at Powell’s”
In my yellow polka dots, I had no notion I didn’t match and no idea you didn’t care. God we were so young then – and reckless, just not reckless enough.
When the world around me speaks to my heart, know that you are still alive and well in my memory (my morning drive makes me think of my grandpa).