Tag Archives: Death
In Our Fifties
Our chartreuse-colored love
The ugly chair now, that we don’t wish to sit in or admit brought comfort, respite
Nor will we throw it away
We mourn it in the kitchen like a death
Seemingly forever, while surrounded with casseroles of comfort food brought to us by well-meaning “friends”
We watch it as an epic film of someone else’s life
Sitting in the dark, screaming at the screen, warning of their err, fall from grace, then trauma
We escape it with our wanderlust-filled travels near and far
Photographing nature, plus wild wildlife who in-turn, chase us as we sleep, pseudo-nightmares that wake us at 3am
We do this
You, there, and me, here
Silk and brocade-covered hardwood frames we were and we are
Camaraderie and adventure that was to have brought us peace
Closure to the aching
What color was it initially, before the fade, we ask ourselves over and over
What we know for certain — it was an heirloom love
Before the spit up and sweaty workaday clothes soiled it
Before the pained animals in us tore it to shreds
Before our childhood loneliness, unresolved, relegated us to our corners in our fifties — upper lips bloodied, both of us
Walking attachment disorders, detached by default, from each other
All in one, single day
Eventually, we go to the curb with this shredded chartreuse thing
Pack up and move far away
Looking from the rear-view mirror at what was, we draw others’ ire as we drive too-slow down that road
It is always dusty Summer in our hearts’ mind’s eye
She Suffered
Anemone
Be it flowers surrounding
Or the Winter’s death knell
When lush heathers and purples
Fade to sienna sand
May it be with clarity
Or with toment I cry
I want it
I want it all
unambivalent
there is no one to cry to,
and hope?
hope’s away on summer holiday,
it seems;
but the air today was to die for,
i thought.
my heart felt glad to be alive,
alive, oh!
Skin: A Haiku
Stricken With Purpose
What of the bitter
Since I’ve known sweet
When I’ve caused distance
You’ve drawn me near
I cannot unknow
Understanding You’ve giv’n
If there be cracks in cement
We’ll place jewels there
For flowers
Not weeds shall grow here
Death: A Haiku
To write of the rain
When drought looms o’er this valley
My pen would ask why
Winter in May
The shadows of somebody
Who must have cast them
And the spell I am under
Are all, I see
Doomed to dance and die
As my did my flowers
From Winter in May
The Dash Between The Years
This complete life
Has been about nothing
But having it all
Ripped away and pulled out from under
Glorious arms and legs
Made stronger
Never getting a free ride from
The orange-striped vehicle of my choice
And it goes on forever
Faster, slower, stop, again