Last night I finally said goodbye. In many ways, perhaps, our early loves are always phantoms echoes of what we wish to see tinged by rose-tinted hormones flushed cheeks Drunk on fresh love’s elixir, we pledge our troth to an hallucination bind our hands to a passing dream. At least, I would like to believe…
Tag: poetry
Cliffhanger
That feeling when you can’t quite feel whatever that feeling is – Like a threatened sneeze, a word on the tip of your tongue, the snippet of song dancing at the edge of memory, A penultimate chord hung with unbearable tension – – but it’s just your soul, too frightened to settle into your lonely…
You.
Last night I cried. It all became too much; the constant pain, The loved ones who have died, The dire gloom and doom from every side, The heavy chain Of trauma I have dragged about for years. Decades of fears – Of failing, falling, fear itself – rushed in And overflowed my fractured dam with…
Screaming Demons
Someone, please tell me it’s going to be ok. I spend my life…
Finding Magic
Magic is found in the in-between spaces, Dappling the grass at the edge of the trees; Whispering soft in the hues of the sunset, Lapping the line between sandbars and seas, Rising to welcome the mists of the morning, Gently caressing with eventide’s breeze. Look for the sparkle in thunder and raindrop; Look for the…
Breathe
Here, take a breath Come from a mountain High in the Himalayas Take it in, reverently; Savor – Now release, an offering to trees Deep in the Amazon. Rest. In, salt-kissed Caribbean air Warmed, as you, by the sun; Hold that joy, Then out, A gift for the green of Ireland. Wonder – How you…
Magic Verse
A bit of a foray into fiction. My kids and I came up with the idea and characters for this story together, and this is the first installment.
Unfettered
Free, the murmuration rises New with every beating breath; Living stream of grace and beauty Pulsing, flowing, length and breadth Shifting geometric daring Without planning or preparing. Force this pure cannot be harnessed. Caged, the beauty stills and dies; Creativity is living And it must be free to rise. Let it go, release, unhand it;…
Just Maybe.
Four years ago, I wrapped my battered hope in sorrow and despair and carefully placed it on a dark shelf behind my Will. I went about my days, then, drearily; I could not see the future for the gloom and as time trundled on I near forgot that hope had ever sung, or spread its…
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