Like Perfume

Who will I be if I’m not seventeen
Bright eyed…everyone enamored with me

Will my responses be always so quick
Too quick most times…impressed with my own wit

Seventeen fails me I don’t know it yet
Sixty, I’ll honor…despite seventeen’s regret

No One Cares For Poetry

I saw green-grey mountains in your eyes
I saw galaxies
Where lived my best friend
Places no one had been to
Places I longed to travel within

In rushed the moment I had to decide
Betray myself for wanderlust, or
Say goodbye to the wandering eye
Goodbye, mountains
Goodbye, friend

Photo Credit: Lisa Mae; FieryPhotography.com

Wicked Winds

Cherry blossoms sometimes curl, dry, and fly away
Plans crash amongst the tides despite our calm agendas

Who said there’d be no wicked winds
What sacred book of days ever promised perfect

We arrive and pass this way on our way to leaving
Fruit and blue-green golden hours coursing through our veins

Love Language

I don’t remember Rome
My feet upon the Spanish Steps’ amber hollow
Too, the rushed-through blue
Maserati 5-speed — did I dream it?
Adam’s lapis aura above mine own

It all escapes me, St. Peter’s Square
Peering out over the shoulders of Saints
Counting each cobblestone
And, inside, La Pietà
What tears and blessings I carried away

Yet, I still see Versailles
Grandeur in the Hall of Mirrors
Forgiveness thence reflected
Learning of gold-gilded love
Take me, as, I’ve never been

Je m’appelle Lisa

I neither got to visit Versailles
Nor know wanderlust’s calm at Gare de Bruges
That glory was one beat too far

Moulin Rouge commanded some checklist, foreign to me
And we’d “miles to go”
Topless beaches on the Med, and all….
Damned dogmas

But Kings and Conductors still summon me
For they heard my name
Nightly, I tell them
You’ve known no such power
And masterpiece
Such God-Speed
As me

So this suitcase sits at my bedside
Packed
With ink-pen and parchment
Pinafores and peace
Decreeing
Whistling
Ready

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

Untitled

Some gravitational pull
Or easterly mysticism
Compelled my travels

I had to go to Planet X today

What promised to be a meditative thing
Instead left me

I, now with mere baubles and defunct space junk

Re-entry burned me
The landing gave me new perspective
The Earth is indeed flat
Love is always light-years away

There’s no cadence to this