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Unripened fears
obscurred by misty, future tears
everblurring visions
of what I hope will soon happen to me;
daunted passions
clouded windows, and myriad "jarred" doors.
By my own admissions,
how can I know for sure that, a dream realized will console me?
Unlikely-like personified!
Guess who joined me in my realm!?!
The "lass" from Impressionatomy
has returned to overwhelm.
These days it doesn't take too much
for me to end up all "twitter-twirl",
I'm known in these parts for ruining topics
when talking to, or in front of a girl!
Who could even say, "why" she'd return
maybe last time seemed like, fun!
She's either brave, or awful dumb
most others would've turned to run!
peppermint pole spirals
"open
three chairs
no waiting"
"who's next?"
doesn't matter
the old guys like hanging around
politicians to tear up
wagers to concoct
old stories to embellish
jokes to repeat
even some gossip now and then
and obituaries
lots of them
bragging rights
tall tales
and damned lies
no woes though
men don't "talk"
He keeps to himself
A stranger in his own skin
Wearing society’s rejection
As a winter coat
He spits out the taste
Of sour failure
Awaiting the moment
To spread his wings
Out of this nightmare
That seems to
Never end
He writes nightly
Until his journal
Runs out of pages
He listens
As people call him
Awkward
His room is a sanctuary
That plays host
To Creativity’s offspring
you came to me
and drew me in
the velvet closeness
dark and daring
our plots
and thoughts
like rich veins
thick and singing
the waves of want lapping
thirsty as a stray
and how we played
and now we stay
haunted
extricated
slowly
one bruised leg
at a time
sweet this wind
that seeps
through this
and your touch
lands like a gunshot
hot and stinging
the
equisite graze of
these wounds
another notch
on our scarred hearts
Master, speak for thy servant hears
The assigned tasks taken to the end
Back in time, long ago, I do not know
When it began and what history has to say
On this seemingly low office of mine
Addressed often as aide or servant
Yet, the high and mighty seek to secure
Their positions with a plea to serve
Sounds of skin on silk
break the stillness
as she stirs in her sleep.
His chest heaves, hot and empty.
After their passion, before her sleep,
his pleas for a life together
were spilled before her
in torrents she denied,
in a deluge unabsorbed.
the air hangs stiffly
clouds sharpened by frenzied winds
of change
the contour of devastation
raves against itself in a poem,
colour and contrast strike an
uneasy truce
with the underworld--
to the surface, rise;
the ferry across is sinking fast into
pomegranate seed
my house is not a home, my abode
is not a poem,
a deck of cards
shuffled by some fanciful breeze
and scattered into
a compendium of inner silence
i bear down as If i am giving
birth to time itself:
"WHERE STREAMS FLOW FREE"
Margaret Ann Waddicor may 2011.
Wooded landscapes, trees
where mists caress their leaves
their gentle winds and breeze
sway birds and beasts.
To be bereft of these
what solace sun and heat
no grasses green beneath my feet
no mud
exotic flowers seduce the perfumed air
a shock
the azure turquoise water
oceans edge
green hedges so monotonous
canals
with cormorants egrets alligator threats
Occasionally
I tend to think
selflishly
I believe the world
revolves around me
Complacency
is my cross
comfortably the chains
of unawareness
hold me
the thought
of another's needs
elude my self-involvement
Reality
has the ability
to smack the face
of sureness
I awaken to the fact
that nothing
is written in stone
at any moment
I can lose