Tearing Us Apart
June 14, 2009
24 Not a word not a sound.
Consideration.
22 A self centred act.
Humility.
20 . . .
17 Manipulation.
Reality.
Please Don’t
June 14, 2009
Red powder.
Blue powder.
White powder.
Please don’t.
Red liquid.
Blue liquid.
White liquid.
Please don’t.
Red candy.
Blue candy.
White candy.
Please don’t.
It’s Always The Hardest Part
June 14, 2009
In an old room with old paperbacks.
Thinking of old troubles and old memories.
Try letting go.
We The Wildflowers
June 10, 2009
So now what will become of us?
A faded memory a black and white photograph.
The pain, tears and the sadness we shared,
was nothing more then ripples in a pool?
Starting off small and expanding bit by bit,
no curtains would hide our sorrow.
What of the smiles, laughter and happiness we shared?
Maybe they were just jolly jesters masquerading and parading.
As if to bring us hope.
what will become of us now?
That you are sure we have no future?
You will run and hide and leave all ravens far behind.
So they cannot peck and pick in the deep corners of your mind.
Not quite covered in cob webs but is blanketed by a thin layer of dust.
Maybe of the magic kind.
Your mind had never been so clear to me.
Are we nothing but two wildflowers, simply plucked from our grassy fields.
With no choice but to admit defeat at the end of the road?
I may have been beaten, abused and used before but you have no right.
So now what will become of us?
friend or foe.
A Matter of Choice
May 20, 2009
Oh wide wondrous depression,
you define me,
you control me.
To be honest with ones self,
is like dancing on shards of glass.
Painful, maybe.
To be quite honest with another,
is like walking in the rain, it just flows until it stops.
Cathartic really.
Oh wide wondrous depression,
you define me,
you control me.
Do you really?
Downtown Girl
May 20, 2009
Where cats and demons claw at you’re feet
The loud silent hum of motors in the streets
Is far from the sound of warm sweet rhythmic breaths
The stars of Newfoundland have been replaced
A purple light polluted sky where the planets cannot see me
So the gods must ignore me
Oh how I miss you
A Dark Moment.
April 2, 2009
time is like water
no matter how may times the glass is filled
you will always thirst
the glass will always empty
you will always starve for the sun
and weep for the stars
when even the birds cannot fly
raise your hands to the sky’s
when death seems to be you’re only friend
always watching
always waiting
a true friend
that will wait
never leave you
until you find a way to him
The Common House Plant.
April 2, 2009
I a living thing?
Dry. Cracked. Brittle
Withered leaves that have browned and curled.
A crooked stem weak and marred.
Dry. Cracked. Brittle.
When the sun shines in from window panes I stretch my variegated hands to soak it all in.
Dry. Cracked. Brittle.
It rained today I could almost taste it on my lips.
Dry. Cracked. Brittle
I miss my home where the sun would shine and the rain would fall.
I could stretch my feet as far as I could.
taken from my home imprisoned in porcelain with desert sands trapped around my feet.
Dry. Cracked. Brittle.
Once a year I bloom this is when I smile.
Dry. Cracked. Brittle.
Forgotten.
Because I Wish to be Broken
February 4, 2009
What raging wind brought your fury that
shook the mountains, throwing stones into the
unbroken rhythm
of the stream below?
After which winter storm did
the furrow in your brow become permanent?
From which cliff’s edge did you spread your wings to
cast off thoughts too gruesome and delicate for one mind
to handle on it’s own?
Which snowflake did you wish to be?
Unique, alas, snowflakes melt when they hit solid ground.
Remorse ends with the last breath.
Winter Fruit
December 2, 2008
I was travelling with the ivy
looking for the holly
along the broken path
through the forest
filled with snow and red berries
