The divide that’s grown between has widened over time— the subtle, well-toiled furrow, now a rift, of deep decline. When did this passionate divide become more like a gulf? And when did our discussions become a chore, less worthy of? … Continue reading The Divide. A poem.
Not beaten or blighted, wracked with loss or pain, I stand before you in judgement, my purpose, as yet, undecided. You have my submission, having bowed to your requests, but not for reasons you suspect, or to prevent ongoing friction. … Continue reading Submission. A poem.
Dance on my grave OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR Pat it down and into place OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR Celebrate the death of me OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR Now you’re done, wash … Continue reading Dirty Dancing. A poem.
Why do we hurt each other so? Why do we tear at our bones like brutal, savage, starving DOGS (begging and braying for blood) until all the meat and gristle is torn away and our ivory husks GLISTEN with the … Continue reading Feast. A poem.
I’m waiting at the Legal Aid office to get some advice about my upcoming property settlement. Needless to say it’s a dull experience, punctuated by the typing on my iPhone, the shuffle of papers, the muffled choke of a straining … Continue reading Waiting, wanting, waning.
Sooooo…today, I had to do paperwork for my long-suffering and very overdue property settlement (like a promised rain storm after years of drought, it shimmers like a mirage in the heat haze…sorry, got distracted. That happens). Seeing as how I’m very focused (Yes, I won the ‘Far Too Focused’ award at work three years running from 2003-5) on getting things done, an over-achiever (I won the ‘Far Too Much of an Over-Achiever’ award at work three years running from 2006-8) and certified obsessive compulsive (no, missed out on that award. Was beaten by Jenny Falucci. Damn you, far too overly … Continue reading Avoidance? I think not, my friends, I think not.
A picture of togetherness Written in elemental script Captured then in time serene A picture that made sense, it seemed Once upon eternity Before the poison settled in A picture of two frozen smiles But what in truth do they relay When hollow eyes betray the scene A picture of faded sepia Now all bitterness and disregard As if the picture had never been Continue reading Picture. A poem.
There are rabbits in my back yard Each day they rise to greet the light With eager noses, seek daily bread While the alpha, tall and bright Watches oh, so protectively Together, the family eats again I had a family once like them It now feels like so long ago I loved them so, my family lost The rabbits are reminders then With faith and hope I’ll survive the cost Continue reading Family Lost. A poem.
I wear my guilt like a shroud That I can’t shake off Unworthy footsteps Through our door Down our hall How can I look you in the eye I will because I have to Because love Is blind Continue reading Blind. 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.
Where do I walk Now the fields are burned And ash rises high in the sky The sun a red blur behind mottled clouds Each ray a spotlight on misery The bodies of the dead Charred and blackened Breaking beneath my feet Whispering as they crumble The killing fields where once we walked as one Now the battle’s done No victors here No spoils of war Just black fields of broken hearts And dust to dust A requiem for our shared defeat In the aftermath, none have won In the new world your will is done And I walk alone … Continue reading Elegy. A poem.
I wrote this poem about a couple of old dogs (I’m one of them), who keep fighting with each other. Can’t we all just be friends? Not during a divorce, apparently. Continue reading Old Dogs. A poem.
Divorce is a major upheaval for anyone going through it. A gamut of emotions, some good, some bad. In the end, it’s often the best thing. To move on. To have a fresh start.
It’s not always that easy to see at the time, though. Continue reading The Day. A poem.
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