Unrequited

The flowers have long since wilted

Chocolate kisses have melted

You never came

I tire of plucking petals

Being a starry-eyed maid-in-waiting…

For you to come

Bleeding love?

My heart has turned tortoise shell

You took too long

The relationship sailed on

Leaving me to drown with insecurities

Paper Doll

She felt like she was made of something other than flesh and blood
she felt paper thin like a paper doll
a paper doll with a torn heart
when she should have skin like an elephant’s
hers was more like parchment
she was a paper doll
a paper doll with tattered dreams
tears streaked her flimsy cheeks
this paper life curled at the edges
she wanted to strike a match
and burn down this paper house
dying embers falling like rain set aflame
this paper doll wanted to sail away
in a paper boat.

The End of September

Cracks in the sidewalk
of dreams
falling like leaves
littered
on the ground
a glimmer remains

The breaking dawn
brings a new beginning
by the time the moon reflects
it feels like the end of dreams
stripped bare
as a tree
standing
in cold despair

Birdsong fills the days
which are shorter
like life
without dreams
how to begin like
the rose burgeoning
through concrete

A tear trickles down
dying embers
of a flame
smothered
could it be the end?
She wondered

The end of September

Storm Poem

She had clouds in her eyes
rain on her cheeks
thunder rolled on her tongue
lightning course through her veins
the wind picked up
littered dreams
she was a hurricane

She had sun in her smile
rainbows tied in her hair
the clouds parted when she spoke
the morning dew reflected
scattered dreams
the wind threw down
she was a gentle breeze

Midwestern Dreams

Stars
too scattered
to wish upon
bluer than ocean and sky
she longed for dreams
to dance into reality
her ink clotted
creativity hit concrete
the scribe
subscribe to "someday"
but found herself wondering "when"
glazing out the window
she saw herself reflected in the moon
a loner
a dreamer
dreams where a veil of fog
before her eyes
the brightest flame
the scribe
subscribe to "someday"
wondering "when"
midwestern dreams
would fill her sky

Word Snapshot 1

Mood.
The color of sky
perpetual rain
blows to the ego
flyway dreams

Chasing down dreams

This Road

Traveling down this road
mapless
hapless
useless
compass
left, right
no direction
broken concentration
need some assertion
to take way this emotion
dreams disappearing in the rear view mirror
they are close but I'm no nearer
the future is a blur, can't see no clearer
the laid out destiny
that's before me
as I travel down this road.

Thoughts

My thoughts run like wild stallions
when it comes to you
free flowing, free falling
I'm sure I never cross your mind
like a ship on the ocean
one-sided
forced hellos
and wry smiles
are all I get
I must depart from this reverie
and empty my thoughts of you

Bird

The lark has found her song

she has risen from the ashes like a phoenix

leaving behind the old bird

she is a new bird

a starling, darling

perched high

ready to fly

like an eagle

among the clounds

sun dappled wings

the robin is free

she has found her song

Pocketful of Dreams

I walk this concrete jungle with my
dream tucked inside my jean pocket
can I share it with you?
my heart is poetry
iambic beats on the ground
I folded my pocketful of dreams
the prose I compose
never seems good enough
to catch your eyes
words are my soul
can't let the passion perish
these pocketful of dreams
won't be deferred

Writer's Quest

Well, since April is poetry month, here's something I jotted down. Like to hear it here it goes.

Blank page

pen in hand

words spill like blood

across the white canvas