Poetry @ MindSay

Traces of you still peek through the brown. Yester-month you were yellow, red, green... now your color, exhausted, curls to sleep.



Dawn's light still gives you life. You seem to bend into a bow. Or flailing hands excited at a breeze. Yet here you are so still, so brittle. A kiss could crumble you.



Underfoot trace remains of gold -- the antiques of summer -- faded paper-thin petals the remaining evidence of our last embrace.



Where once you were silent wet-green, you now know how to speak. Death has given you a voice the wind never could. I could walk into you and you will talk and break all against me, around me.



The cedar, in contrast to you, does not match your beauty. Her branches have already shook off the sugar. She stands barely-kissed.



The birches stretch into the direction of the trail. They await the very God I do.



We are one in our worship. Even the last of the leaves dance, anticipating, laughing.



The growing light gilds the leaves with gold -- a reward for joy never left.



Not a breath disturbs the trees. The sun has come. It would be selfish to fall asleep. And yet my eyes tear up, frost kisses my lashes, and out of me a song yawns me back to bed.

"You've stayed up just to see me before a dream," He warms my shoulders, hurts my eyes, makes my face go all flush, "go back to bed and I will hug you." And I pack up my camera, rub my cheeks, jump back into home.

The frost holds nothing against the Sun.

A true poet doesn't write for compensation . . . a true poet writes because the intensity of what is to be expressed is too great to be contained in a minor vessel . . . it has to be released in order to accomplish its predestined mission . . .

 

 

 

I'm stuck in the middle with them. A great male friend of mine has been dating a even better female friend of mine for about 2 yrs., well that is now an official time line because they are no longer together. He confessed to thinking he may be bi-sexual! Now I'm all for equal rights and all, and am not condemning him for his realization. But on the flip side why did it take 2 yrs. to figure this out? Especially when he had a beautiful, caring, girl by his side all the while.

I'm getting an ear full from both of course, and both want me to take their side. Well, that's easier said than done. I am just telling them that I will still be friends with both no matter if that's ok with the other or not. It's difficult to deal with though.

The girl involved is a strong and feisty person who has no problem speaking her mind. I love her for that. She is hurt, angry and confused beyond words. I say understandably too. I will say this...well I'll say what George Congreve said in part from his 1697 play 'The Mourning Bride": 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' .

I told her to listen to this song and she happily thanked me after. These are some of the most beautiful angry lyrics!

I see you there

I can't help but to stop

and stare.

 

The lines,

the crease,

the age is our lease.

 

Each smile,

every laugh

to every person

as they pass.

 

You don't discriminate,

you don't even hate,

the lines you force

on someone's face.

 

A simple hello,

a sweet ending,

quiet animosity,

silly jealousy,

 

lines, creases,

wrinkles, spots

leaving age at first

in small spots.

 

I see you there

on his face.

His smile, his embrace.

You leave your mark.

 

You leave it not for sadness.

You leave it not for happiness.

You leave it for remembrance.

 

The fragrance of her,

the smile of the kid,

the pain from the sin,

the daily walk or

the nightly stalk.

 

I see you there

and remember where

I saw you first

and stopped to stare.

This is my response to The Poetry Slam on Facebook (Round #5). The subject was INDECISION!! We shall NOT use the word indecision, however, at any time within the walls of the poem. Nor the word decide, nor its derivatives...

Lost

“What am I to do? What am I to do?”
And that's all I ever do
I just sit here wondering, “What am I to do?”

There was a time when I had all the answers,
And I knew where this voyage would take me,
But so much has changed since those days -
I live a very different reality...

There was a time so very very long ago
When I could navigate by a star,
And set a course to any destination
No matter how near or how far...

My compass is broken, my map is lost,
The landmarks I've never seen before,
And I can't get my bearings from the stars -
The only sound that's heard is the ocean and its roar

The waves push me where the may.
Will I end up broken upon the rocks?
Or in the port of some exotic land
With people greeting me from the docks?

I've no way of knowing or choice in the matter,
I have surrendered my life to the Fates.
Is no choice the correct choice?
That is still a matter up for debate...

©2009