Written in 1984, this is another expression of my grief of losing my grandmother.
Loss.
A missing piece
of the puzzle.
A knot
in the throat.
A Demon
in the gut.
An unfulfilled need.
A missing.
A not there.
A silent scream.
Anger.
Grief.
Deprivement.
A barrier to cross
some day
Yet crossed by another
today.
This poem was an experiment … pushing my comfort level with expressing sexual desire. It was written February 20, 1991. Let my lips enfold you like petals about the stamen Let my hand caress you like the ocean caresses the shore Let my eye behold you more beautiful than a Rembrandt Your touch is like…
Written Feb. 27, 1992. You looked at me as if I was a person as if I was beautiful as if I mattered You, who were to hold my first born and smile but were torn too soon away from life You, who in my mourning were a bright star and a friend now so…
I was cleaning out my fiction and poetry files this weekend in preparation of renewing my efforts and found this weird little poem I wrote on Oct. 16, 1995. In fact, I don’t remember writing it. It’s in my handwriting and I do remember the line about the streamers, but everything else was like reading…
Written Feb. 7, 1983. I stay inside the dark and weary castle keep. It is lonely. I know loneliness. She is my friend. Outside is cold. There are many vicious things out there. The many pronged whip that beats on you until you’re a bloody pulp. The razor that slices souls. The knife that creeps…
This poem is an exercise in creating scenes with strong sensory information. Breathe. Fill your nostrils with the smokey scent of your neighbor’s barbecue. Breathe. Listen to the rustle of pine needles brushing against each-other in the breeze. Breathe. Soak in the starlight slowly spinning in the dark blue sky. Breathe. Fill yourself with the…
This poem was written circa 1975. I’d forgotten all about it until my mother called me and told me she wanted to read to me a poem written by a 9-year old girl. When she was done, she asked me if I remembered it. I said it sounded familiar … maybe I’d read it on…