Survivor You seek the truth Perhaps you’ll find it So full of survivor guilt In time your questions Will be answered Survivor You toss and turn at night Reliving all the moments That can’t be changed Will you ever Overcome your pain Survivor Get to your feet Climb back from the brink This is not defeat But a new beginning Only you can choose to be Born again Continue reading Survivor. A poem.
I pushed off the door and bolted to the pantry, glimpsing back briefly to see the flame-haired mistress of the blade standing in the frame as the door swung open and hit the wall. The pantry was bigger than I expected, a central corridor lined with shelves of food products—more like a mini-market than a larder. The old butler was beckoning from a shadowy open space at the end. I ran and dived in. He slammed the door shut behind me. It was black as pitch for a moment, until I heard the click of a zippo and a small … Continue reading The Sale. Part 6. A short story.
Your sins were profligate Rose and fell with the tide But the full moon did wane And the tide it did change You found absolution Nearly drove you insane Arose here in the twilight A much better man Left behind your trespasses Washed away out of sight But reminders remain As they should, of the pain A better man arisen From the tide’s angry refrain Continue reading Tide. A poem.
Do you dance Upon my grave A smile and a tear Washing away the dirt Do you twist Do you turn Arms upraised Do you hate me Do you miss me In a frozen moment Do you dance for you Or for who we were Continue reading Dance. A poem.
This life As much as I hate it Is all I have So suck it up And get on with it Make it a life Worth loving Continue reading This Life. A poem.
I ran. The old butler had a head start into the corridor, but he was shuffling at such an antiquated pace I easily overtook him. I glanced back at the mad woman approaching from the living room, knife flashing in time to each stride. “Where?” I yelled, manically. “The kitchen, sir,” he replied, pointing a gnarled digit to the door opposite. I rushed inside and waited for him to catch up, which he did just as the crazy lady exited the lounge room. “My mother was killed by a vacuum cleaner,” she cried, stabbing the knife into the outside of the … Continue reading The Sale. Part 5. A short story.
These souls have travelled far Worn down to the quick In need of retreads And emotional glue So they can walk Together again Continue reading Souls. A poem.
I saw you again today. You hadn’t changed at all, but of course I shouldn’t have expected you too. After all, it had been but a few weeks, and nobody can be expected to change much in that time. Your … Continue reading The Spell. A short tale.
You were a little thief Who stole my life away With lies and deceits I was the little thief Who turned your life around With misguided conceit Behind our facades We were together as one Just little thieves And now our day is done Continue reading Little Thieves. A poem.
Awkward Somewhat awkward glance I should look her in the eye My reservation Enigmas Small talk at table Wondering if she’s like me Enigmatic souls Fear I should ask her out Fear gets the better of me Together alone Love myself some haiku. No better way to express poetic whiles then in the confines of a 5/7/5 syllabic structure. I could build a wealth of poems on such a foundation. You can read more of my haikus here. Continue reading The Dance. A Haiku Trilogy.
My light and my guide Through deep waters wide Your beacon a warning Rocks and shoals in the night If I’m caught in the storm And blown far off course May your lighthouse deliver me For better or worse Continue reading Beacon. A poem.
Remember life The semblance of Before the fall (So far you fell, maybe you’re falling still) When integrity, respect Were friends on call All you’ve done All your transgressions You just wish it wasn’t so Accept the facts (False truths … Continue reading Remember. A poem.
The crazy lady was right up in my face, spittle flicking onto my cheek as she voiced her objection. I backed up, hands raised. “Look, I’m really sorry,” I said. “I really didn’t know you had a tragedy related to…cleaning products.” As if from nowhere, she extracted a huge butcher’s knife from its hiding place behind her back. It glinted malevolently in her hand, matching the glint in her eye. The yelp that escaped my lips was more feminine than I would have liked. My eyes widened to the size of saucers, adrenaline surged and my voice trembled. “I can … Continue reading The Sale. Part 4. A short story.
Time passes Wounds heal Leaving scars And memories Of tragedy That fade But never disappear Completely But make us Who we are Continue reading Wounds. A poem.
The living room was immense, I almost needed binoculars to identify the furniture. This consisted of a few ornate and dusty lounges, chairs and a worn coffee table, all encircling a huge twenty-foot wide hearth, a fire burning briskly within. Exotic, cobweb-covered chandeliers shone dimly from the ceiling far above—the light they cast had very little impact on the dancing shadows cast by the flames. My previous confidence in a quick sale was evaporating, unlike the sweat forming on my brow from the heat in the room. The butler lurched to a stop by the door, out of breath. Standing … Continue reading The Sale. Part 3. A short story.
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