Going to the show alone
One might consider
The loneliest thing
In the world
One, however, might learn
To love being merely one
In a crowd
When the onscreen drama
Is far from one's own
Show stopper
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Category Archives: Family
I’d rather
I'd rather be with me, than
In the shadow of a tree
Grown by groaning pains
Missing her former ways
I'd rather be alone, than
Drink down remedies from
Expectation formed
Watching romantic comedy
I'd rather go solo, than
Interpret someone's needs
Through the scintillating sound
Of the pleas of silent screen
I'd prefer to take a stroll
Cool and dry under a 'broll, than
Be soaked in untold stories
Of adventures without me
I'd rather be awake, than
Anticipating ache
Of sleeping next to you
Then, in a month or two we're through.
For to give is better..
Sometimes love feels like
Forgive
Forgive
Forgive
Until it's gone
Then, only then
Forgive oneself
Placebo
How one so accustomed
To heartbreak
Could mend and bend mine
Cure-all in one
Placebo the other
Pick which hand?
A limerant and her lover
Knows deep down
The match may cause to suffer, though
Much less than the world has shown
For standing on the brink of despair
A hard fall lies beneath
It might as well be love
That sweeps you off your feet
For on this feeling you'll soar
Find new paths to explore
Confusion sets in when alone on the moors
Looking back, you always were
How to be invisible
Giggle
Appear older, naive
Ask of other's realities
Deny one's own
Speak well of all authority
Dwell in the home
Wear brown, baggy clothing
No colour or lipstick
Kiss your mother goodbye
Hug anyone who asks for it
Do not resist the crowd
Silence a quiet scream
Obedience a vow
Snow melt
Do not confuse silence
For innocence of years
Nor err of grace
Forgiveness as
No evidence of blame
For all the words
Daggers and cloaks
Stored up for wintry days
Till sunny spring
A friendly ear
Does melt such icy ways
Herbarium
For nigh on a decade
Enchanted by tales
Of wildest places
Where rough edges
Bleed out to sea
Coarsing through veins
Lungs of the world
Clutching the land
For all its worth
From those who take, take..
I trip tentatively
Through swathes of natives
Unknowingly trampling
Rare plants
Smudging invasive seed
Into mud with sodden tread
No permission to collect
I take and take, greedily
Hoping vainly
To strike a fragile quill
A tendril root, a mere bud
To bring home all I love
But instead, I raised beds
Of shrunken dried specimens
Memories snipped from whence they came
Never to grow again.
Now I learn and dissect
Identify how similar or different
The naming of all things
Already taken place
A namesake now only left
For stone engraving.
Holding space
A flourishing filagree
Sprawls across imagination
Possible only by
Space left between
Shelves of memories
Some on display
Others never seen again
Days so inspired
Wander vast landscapes
In snow, wind and rain
Pour out my heart
On alluvial plane
Marvel and bow within
Carved limestone cave
Forage and flit about
White washed waves
For each day of yearning
Turns a new fresh page
Placing the point
On paper, thoughts race
As feelings are aired
They are lighter in space
Took all of my wandering
To know here is my place
Driftwood
I collected all the fallen limbs and driftwood memories.
Looking into your eyes, examining your face
the details of every freckle on your arm, the shape of your ear
your smile and lips.
To make driftwood art and admire it all day.
Some days, the hard ones
It feels like some unknown people piled all our memories up and set it alight.
Warmed themselves by the fire of the passing night of memories that never happened.
It fuels my sadness, a touch of resentment.
Who are these well meaning people, perhaps cold, they were, who had to warm themselves by the fire of us to feel alive.
Who threw in a pinecone of ‘what if’, or ‘why would you’ that sputtered and sparked in the flame.
I know all the things that they say.
I spend my days willing the life out of me, as alone as one can be.
So these humans, whom I do not envy, the ones who are alone like me, can know all the kindness that resides within. As one who knows what alone really means.
Count the stars of heaven 