Pieta

Their faces smile out from the newspaper
Like an ad for a vacation;
A picture perfect family.
Lies.
The child missed two days of school.
A call was made.
The police found them;
Mother’s arm encircling child.
Love and desperation
Entwined.
Poison given?
Undetermined.
Undeniably
Dead.
“Better dead than
Alone.”
Was is whispered?
The child said
“daddy,”
When she was 8 months old
But never met him.
Santa Clause
Didn’t arrive last
Christmas.
His sleigh was broken.
And this year?
What lie to tell?
No need to worry now;
“The pain will fade.
Sleep.
Tomorrow will be a new day.”
The street is littered with votives
Gifts too late.
All they needed
Was a guide.
Out of the labyrinth.

Life

Hands folded
Tight
Nails dig into skin.
Corset bound.
Breath:
Constricted,
Conditioned,
Short.
Enough to keep alive.
On the street corner
The trousseau chest;
Her life’s blood,
Her reason for being.
Started at ten;
Finished at eighteen.
Ready for the
Future
With all the linen and
Embroidered bedsheets
She would need.
Victorian propriety
Her only weapon
Against the
Coming storm;
Homeless,
Manless.
Damn the War.

Misunderstanding

When he said he did,

He wasn’t sure.

When she said she would,

She was frightened.

Awkward hands

Fumbeled

For perfection,

Finding only

Distance.

Greg

Under the chestnut tree
The world was wide open;
We were fearless,
Laughing as a nut exploded
On the road.
Your smile
Was catching.
I tried to catch up.
And together
We were trouble.
We knew love,
We knew fun,
We knew now.
Time changes;
And you grew distant.
Our childish ways;
Outgrown.
Your baby face changed to lean and handsome.
We no longer laughed alone.
You set out
Searching for answers.
I only have questions.

Fishing

The red haired girl was different. She was a forest dweller In a land encircled by water; ‘Different,’ might be a kind word. Perhaps her genes had been wired wrong? When the men had gone to sea Women would stand by land’s end and pray; That their men would return safe From the turbulent waters. She would be found In the apple orchard; Testing the russet hue and Wild clover of the honey comb. The village was scandalized the day She joined an ocean bound vessel. None had noticed the withering branches; The dark haired man Who piped Forgotten tunes and Kissed passionately. He loved the open sea. One day when the sky was blue With a trail of dreams in its wake; He disappeared. Silent in her determination To find the man who could Offer the world ; She left the shore.

Janus

God of paradox
You guard the door:
The entrance and the exit.
Witness to the past and present.
When war is declared
Your heart quickens;
Hungry for the fight.
Those same arms will offer
Solace for the peacemaker.
Patron both of the conqueror and
Exploited.
Tears can be shed in both anger and love.
You embody
Light and darkness

Youth and age
Love and hatred;
In one being.
The challenge of being human.

Duel

Fog hovered;
The sun was a distant
Dream on the horizon.
At the appointed oak they met
Pistols cleaned;
Meticulously.
Ready for something
That many only whispered about.
Ready for the last story.
Each man had dressed the part;
Shamelessly wronged.
Fighting for the same smile;
The same scent of roses and apples
In her hair as she laughed.
One would live the morning.
The better shot;
Not the better love.
As the sun rises
To burn the morning fog,
Two men lie
Bleeding.
Demanding an answer
To the question,
“why?”

Victorian Love

Under a collar
Starched by his mother;
His hands shook as he drank
The tea.
My mother
Looked on
With understanding patience.
The clock on the mantle ticked
I could hear our breathing
In the silence .
A fly beat at the window for escape.
Just get to it:
I thought
So all this can begin.

Amherst Island

After the excess of turkey and pie have been consumed,
After the pleasantries have been spoken;
We become restless or sedate.
Walking into a blue sky, crisp air and
Autumn leaves;
Or lie down to dream of childhood.
Memories of a better time.
You took me to your schoolyard,
Swinging as we shared our past.
Under the gloaming
The moon rose in the autumn sky.
You offered the hay bale.
I saw the Northern Lights
and dreamed of the future.

Amazing Video

affectiveliving

Teaching. Learning. Living.

hocuspocus13

Magickal Arts

hands in the garden

Poetry, song lyrics and other literary junk

A Mirror Obscura,

Poetry, musings and sightings from where the country changes

In Vegetables We Trust

Home to over 200 vegan recipes.

The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Sustainable Living

Save the Arts in schools!

“Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine, and at last, you create what you will” – George Bernard Shaw

Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

Welcome to the Anglo Swiss World

Wuji Seshat Nibada

The poetry addict

Wayfaring Focus

A blog about travel and photography by the documentary photographer Johannes Laaksonen

Live & Learn

David Kanigan

Light & Shadow

Once more you hover near me, forms and faces Seen long ago with troubled youthful gaze. And shall I this time hold you, limn the traces, Fugitive still, of those enchanted days? You closer press: then take your powers and places, Command me, rising from the murk and haze; Deep stirs my heart, awakened, touched to song, As from a spell that flashes from your throng. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Faust, Part I"

Lenise

A Woman After His Heart

The World according to Dina

Notes on Seeing, Reading & Writing, Living & Loving in The North

Purnimodo

Hunchedbacked Ramblings of a Quasi Disgruntled Hopeless Romantic

Just out of Curiosity

My articles about various things, mainly sports.

The Teatime Reader

Reviewing a good book every week. Updates on Thursdays.

WordandLightSmithing

Poems, stories, and photographs -- old and new -- by Steve Dewey

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 534 other followers