Coffee Shop Melodies

Snippets of Conversation merge

Into the ambient coffee shop music

Becoming one living breathing thing,

Alive, it swells and dies out,

Only to burst forth again.

Laughter. Rushed chatter.

Biting, staccato-ed phrases.

This little shop - composing it's own symphony

Crazy Breakaway

On these long sleepless nights,

I'm crawling up the walls while

Waiting for day to break,

And the world to come alive.

Give me something to do,

I've got to feed my mind.

It's eating at my insides.

Go, go, go. Get out of here.

There is a whole world.

Fly free. Fly on. Go forever.

There is no stopping me.

I am going to break away.

I am going to flee.

(4/14/2010)

Summer 1

Oh summer time...

To sip ice cold lemonade

Half naked in the grass.

Break out the beach towels,

Sunglasses and books.

Let's lounge in the sun

On these lazy days, and

Take advantage of our Youth.

(4/8/2010)

These Days...

She must keep writing

Despite all the woes

And worrisome emotions

Bubbling up from within in her chest.

These days it's too much to ask

For anything more than

Just making it through the day.

But she keeps walking.

They're gonna make it through this night.

(4/15/2010)

Musicianship Relearned

Tentatively, notes fill the air.

Piano first, then rising to mezzo forte.

Testing the water, relearning the feel

Of keys beneath fingers and air in lungs.

Confidence builds, and in a few days time

You can hear clear, solid melodies

Dancing through the air

And filling the house.

(4/9/2010)

Untitled.

Tiny white blossoms

litter the ground

beneath my feet.

They were caught in the wind

and blown to

unsuspecting places,

where they bless

the footsteps of

some unthankful man.

(4/10/2010)

A New and Wiser Time

I remember the sound

Of footsteps travelling

Down white antiseptic

Scented hall ways,

And the deafening

Drone in my head

Of an urgent need to flee.

I, a prisoner, of course

Sat faithfully at the shrine

Of the skeleton ghost

Of the person I was

Trying to force myself to be.

At the time I did not know

Any other way.

Put it aside and put it away.

Your youth has become a page

In a scrapbook of memories.

This is the here and now.

No longer imagine yourself

As that clever girl with

The secrets in her eyes.

Those days have passed,

As time's steady current

Pulls us along to the future.

You have to learn new ways

To weave the sunlight in your hair.

Find new hiding places for the

Secrets you kept in your eyes,

But it's not the end, my friend.

This is a new chapter of life.

(4/9/2010)

City Dawn

Early creeping dawn

The tiny song birds

Chirp a springtime tune

and we wait for the

sun's yellow orb to

rise from the tops

of the neighbor's roofs

(4/3/2010)

And we are

Horsetail clouds whip across the sky.
I have to stop and ask myself
How I'd never noticed such
Things as these before.

As if the essence of a butterfly
Or of a half bloomed flower
Could save my soul.
Oh, please let these feelings
Of glorious beauty grow.

I want to wander barefoot
Through open fields of wildflowers,
Hold up my skirt and
Wade in a creek
To cool my tired feet.

I want to lay with Him in the
Grass and look at the stars,
And to realize that the best
Things in life are free.

And we are
We are
Free

(spring 2009)

Stronger this time around.

Sunshine. Blooming flowers.
I plant my bare feet
in the wet soil and grow.
I reach for the sky--
a new life springing forth inside.

Eliot whispering, "weave the
sunlight in your hair..."
My arms are the branches of trees.
And my fingers are leaves.
Toes become roots digging deeper
Into the ground.

I am planted in this new land--
Life without innate sadness.
I am alive -- Though I falter,
Sway in the breeze.
In a storm, I rock, the gusts
Of terror and fear shaking me,
But still I stand.
And nothing can knock me down now,
I have made my roots deep.

Cleansing and Birth

Overcast skies, clouds strolling by
Signs of an approaching cold front
Rain coming to wash and cleanse us--
Drenching the soil.
And we need it.

Flowers bloom, refreshed by the downpour--
They come to life.
And we need it.
To remind us once again
Of the beauty of simply
Being Alive.

(spring 2009)

On words and literature.

They are sustenance:
Food, water, shelter, sleep.
Words are everything.
They are all you could ever need
In this place, this world, this realm
Of writers and artists
Of thinkers and dreamers
Of believers

And we are, we are the ones who
Will move the world, shake it.
Fix it, or break it.
Our ideas and works are the power
They are all we need
To build cities
Or watch civilizations burn.
"We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams..."

(12/2/2008)

Mother.

The curve of her lips when she smiles.

I can still smell her scent --

The perfume she adores.

So comforting, the aroma

reminds me instantly of home.

The safety of the country

with guard dogs and cats for best friends.

Dinner on the table at 6,

and the consistency of her presence.

The way she chuckles when she's amused.

Her haphazard way of organizing her business

and her long fingernails.

I can tell her anything,

which is usually more than

she needs to hear --

"didn't need to know that, hon."

I can hear her loving words,

in her slow, southern drawl.

In my mind I see her clearly:

Auburn hair, green eyes.

The best woman I know.

(4/2/2010)

5 shorts

A place I know not--
this distant land of asphalt.
People commute to work,
barely acknowledging each other.
So many is the population,
and so few are the friends.

----------

Never resting, this city.
Always, there is a lone civilian
wandering the streets,
even at the darkest hour
in the dampest monsoon rains,
or the on chilliest blustery winter days.
Always, someone is traversing the streets.

----------

Lunch break -- people rushing.
Time clocks to punch,
they push their way
to the front of the line,
order their turkey on rye,
and scuttle back to
the drone of their uneventful lives.

----------

Tiny specks of dinner
resting on the grout
inside the grooves made
by the cheap tile floor,
waiting for tiny
black arthropods
to come feast on the
delectable entrees.

----------

tick, tick, tick
Like cold molasses,
time stretches by.
The hour lasts an eternity --
next month is a dream.
(My desperate need to escape
the here and now)
Wander the house in search --
looking for something to distract,
to occupy this mind.
To help me forget this need,
this impatient need for speed;
to fly into the far away future.

(4/1/10)

4/2/2010 - Haiku

I hide my face now
Ashamed of how I appear
To strangers I meet

----------

Age will take its toll
Long before your soul is old
At night you mourn Youth

----------

Little green buds are
Forming on the trees. I see
spring is almost here

---------

A human goddess
A contradiction of sorts
With womanly curves

----------

They have fins and scales
The live under the water
It's our fish friends

4/1/2010 - Haiku

Little bumble bee
flies away from the nest and
into the blue sea.

----------

The flaming leaves of

the Japanese maple tree

tell me old stories.

----------

His blood is pure red

from his heart to his big feet

full of love for me

----------

Marriage is true love

only if love is true.

Yes, we are lucky.

----------

The tiny flower

Yellow against the darkness

A symbol of spring

April is National Poetry Month!

And to celebrate I will be posting at LEAST one haiku a day in this, my new addition to my site, writing blog!
After April is over, I will continue to post poems I write on here fairly consistently, so this should be fun!

HERE is a page about me and my blog!