do nightmares chase us into day

sunrise plus seagul

the sky changes
from black to blue
layers of cobalt and cerulean
over flames afar off
my horizon burning off a nightmare
that chased us through the night

running for home
over sooty streets
we were not overcome by the dark
aquamarine dancing with apricot
thoughts of the new day
hopes that the sun will ignite us

for we have become
day sleepers over time
all of our late-80’s hopes
riding on blue and grey clouds
whilst melon and tea rose
slice the sky

Show-stopper

Sunset and leaves

I had so much riding on this day
my mind in too much thought
each sip every step all my hopes
just to purchase another hour of life
the way it should be lived

It is a pendulous evening
heavy air at eight
the lines nearly erased now
between night and day
the horizon breaking out
with its glittery evening show

A slice of this sky I count on
my doubt and injuries wavering
I take one step, and then another
every hope winning out over the past
and its mercenary plans

The fog came across
the hamburger joints and parking lots
and covered our path-
Kicking at clouds
we talked about what we wanted
in 1989. As we walked I said
how I feel no confidence
some days, and he said
‘time will give you confidence,’
But what if my time is short

 

She was a collage

a random spattering of life
over more than one canvas
every do-over leaving a mark

she spread sunshine
unwittingly with her
cutting sense of humour

based mostly on fact
but the ridiculous-ness of it all
made people smile

like a clown, dance for us
make us laugh and dance
and forget the day’s burden

her collage of reds and blacks
and too bright yellows
when she was seeking pure gold

her own heart of gold she did not trust
her thimble-full of hope
she brought out on holidays

What’s it gonna be



The images have all but faded
from my body of work
the proverbial sex buffet
they call life, that smorgasbord
of longings, dreams, and
anticipations

You were born out of September
like a newborn baby dinosaur
all hands and teeth and craving
wind chimes outside the window
apologizing for the weather
small insistent cymbals

Let it not be said
I cannot forgive-haven’t I
lived on this bed of nails
for years-cycling ’round
Lenore and Jane
save me once more

Like weekenders-we put life up
in the garage-on blocks
every day is Monday now
and no break in sight
in the eye of the twister
in this alien land

Spring cleaning

DSC00130.JPG

For years I felt superstitious about Spring
inheriting this little quirk
due to the early deaths of Grandma, Granddad, and Mother
and her grandmother
on dates of the third thrice, then the thirteenth

Spring on its own swept away such fears, this year
with green, with growth, and with hope
looking upward through apple blossoms
at clouds and endless blue skies
watching nature pair off in love

and despite my dark thoughts
I may not die on the third

but I will shave my legs on the second
just in case

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I dislike epilogues, especially when they are longer than the poem, but I felt like sharing this, to explain. Years ago my grandmother’s mom died on December 3rd, and my grandpa died on March 3rd 7 years later. After that she became very morbid and superstitious, feeling dread the 3rd of every month. When she died on April 3rd seven years later it really got to me and I inherited that superstitious nature on the 3rd of each month, and really dreading the spring. My mother passed away on April 13 several years ago, and that laid me outright.

Last year, some things I thought would never improve started to get better in my life and I found some new hope. I owe it to God because I would never have climbed out of that deep pit on my own. Spring became so beautiful and I just couldn’t stop taking pictures. I felt real joy, even handling my mom’s death anniversary in a ‘normal’ way, whatever normal is. I used to kind of disappear on that day.

I love that spring has come back to me. Autumn is beautiful and will always be my favourite season, but despite the beauty it is a season when things die, and I have started to appreciate life, which spring illustrates in countless ways. We’ve only been into spring 5 days, and it’s cold here, but I am excited as the season is starting again. I feel hope. That is the cause for adding humour to the last part of the poem. It seems that every time we pull out of a bad time, humour is part of the healing. So I cling to it. Smiling, laughing, hopeful thoughts. Thank you for listening.

-Rose

Lighter

sunrise 4.jpg

Why do I walk around as if bricks
are still on my shoulders, this
same God that knows the birds
knows me

And I walk on – living
as if I am one stranded
but he still loves –
he loves

There is no one who can remove me
from this eternal love
no man with the strength
to overcome it

So how can my heart stay chained
that same burden slipped off my back
lying here on the ground
to step over –
to walk on

(easier to) Forgive

If we start adding up our slights
(when we bruised, neglected
and lied to one another)
we will lose sight of the treasures
(love, joy, peace, hope,
and patience)and everytime
we held one another and cried-
If we list them all (spiteful,
lasting, ungenerous boasting)
we will never get to where
we wanted to be (by now)
before we go