Testing

Really trying here
Think I may burst
I’ve never been patient
But this is too much
The waiting
Hurts to breathe

I can wait the half hour for the cake to bake
I can wait for the show to be continued
I can wait for him to take his coat off before I grab and hug and greet him

The minutes in the waiting room are intolerable
The magazines suck
The rug is ugly
The people are all trying too hard to be silent and avoid eye contact
And some are waiting to hear if they’re dying

I don’t know how I can sit here waiting to be poked and prodded
When I’m screaming so loudly
My head is pounding
They may have to pick me up off the floor

Really trying to be mindful and joyful
But this blows
The waiting
The ugliness
The choking back fear and trying to look normal
Ah, now it’s my turn.

July 24, 2013 0

Thanks!

I wish to heartily thank my supporters and friends and followers! I have had words stuck in my head all my life and it’s taken me to my middle age to write them down.

I’m working on a book of poetry to hopefully be published this year; up to six months ago, I would laughed at that idea.

I am particularly proud of the connections I’ve made with other writers. We should revel and share in our journeys and support each other as we have chosen similar modes of expression.

“We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful pour out.” – Ray Bradbury

July 23, 2013 0

Lingering Goodbye

It wasn’t the first goodbye
They’d both been battered by the waves
So many times they had come close
“I love you” was just too hard
And not nearly enough

Youth was long gone
More than innocence had been lost
Too many questions would be left behind
Regret only for why not what once was
That was too simple

This goodbye would linger
Longer than other memories
The gaping holes in each of their days
Would never quite close up enough
To keep cold thoughts at bay

Rereading old letters
Was too dangerous
Though it helped to remember
All they had left
Were words

July 23, 2013 0

Hollow Balloon

He moved so smoothly through me
So deftly he stole my pride
So swiftly my heart
He always seemed in shadow
Hidden
Hollow
We stared out his window
Sultry summer
Sweet heavy air
We spoke of poets and moons
Never doubting
Never counting
He held the moment like a balloon on a string
He held me like I was new
But the balloon and I were let go easily
We knew our little story
We didn’t need any others
But there’s always an end
He can’t pretend
We can’t go back
That little room above the shop is locked.

July 23, 2013 5

Queen of Spades

Hail, queen of the idiots!
I am to be revered for all my quirks and foibles.
You must feel like bowing in the face of such incompetence.
Or at least feel like running away.
No truer words need be said besides touting all the times I’ve tripped and erred.
I’m not sure I’d recognize the right path no matter how well trimmed and lit;
I much prefer making things hard on myself.
Life may be difficult, but I only wallow in comfort when I’m in extreme discomfort.
Have things ever gone smoothly?
Of course but the times were fleeting at best.
Do we rise to our stupidity? Sink to our depravity?
What makes us keep trying?
Do connections really count or is all the time we spend an excuse and distraction from the torment we hold at bay, the fate that we know lurks around the corner.
Hope abandoned long ago, my heart has atrophied.
The only fluttering I feel is the moths flying out of the closet.