In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Easy Fix.”
There was a girl, who met a boy
One summer day, by a country club pool
he was awkward and silly
and had a nervous way of chewing his fingers
that somehow endeared him to her, even in his tattered jeans
He was
not her usual “type”
but he had an easy way about him that
chained her
So every day after, when she visited the pool
while her father played 18 holes with his colleagues on the green
and her mother met with the wives in the tea room for brunch
she would look for him in the crowd of oxford shirts
and not finding him, feel her world suddenly fold in on itself
For you see, the day she met him, her world had suddenly and inexplicably opened up
and all at once, the sun shined through the clouds she only kept at bay with
precise concentration on her ivy league dreams and
painstakingly ordered way of life
her wall of protection he’d managed to scale with a coy smile
so she searched and prayed
and just as the summertime sun was beginning to fade
and along with it, her hopes
he was there
And all was right with the world.
Author: Lisa
Flight delay
birds don’t carry baggage
they leave it behind
and fly
perhaps that’s why we’re so different
because we carry with us
a pebble here, a twig there
baggage that bleeds
but never gets lighter
and keeps us earthbound
helplessly flapping
with our eyes skyward
exhausted by heavy weight
but still seeking ourselves
in the treetops
we are only sure to reach
if we let go
You, now
I carry you with me
like winter
cold and stark and bare
you are in my bones
Hidden
Split and splintered
like weapons, words hurled
at once cut me off at the knees
down I fall silently
in a wood surrounded
by those with stronger roots
a crash heard only in my heart
bits of me
who I used to be
unfound and cloaked
in dust
Limbo
Presently I am alive
but I’m feeling rather dull
as happens when you shoot for the moon,
miss the mark and find yourself
crashing down without a safety
burned to the point of numbness
and wondering when the pain ended
and limbo began
then the epiphany…
there are bills to pay
and mouths to feed
an alarm clock shouting orders
and a bladder full of yesterday
screaming to be emptied
so with quiet, masterful care I
sit on the edge of my bed
forgetting to remember
what it means to really live
and with one great heave
propel myself into the routine
that keeps me here
Navigation: lost
Sometimes there’s just a hole
and sometimes it remains
no matter what you use
to try to fill it
to smooth out the road ahead
sometimes the sun won’t shine in
the dark spaces between
no matter your speed or
the size of the dust clouds
kicked up by road-worn tires
no matter how you try
to blink away the clouds
and the storms they bring
so you open the floodgates
let the roiling pain slip through
to light flash strips on the pavement and in morning find yourself a different being…mourning the lightness of what once was while trying to navigate the heaviness of what is
watching the mile markers go by
lost
Headspace
All I do is scream
Even my conversation
is a shout, unbearable
to my own ears
Who am I?
It seems anger has taken over
speaks for me in my dreams
and waking hours
In harsh tones and insults
An axe blade to chop down
Feelings of vulnerable me
that later show themselves as hot tears, salt poured on wounds too deep to heal
A headspace I want desperately
to leave…
Moon
Love you are
a silver glow
a ball of light
in my night sky
I chase, you hide
behind clouds, with stars around you
and disappear with dawn
never mine
Your gravity holds me
I’m pushed out to sea
and drawn in once more
you wax and wane
and I
in the darkness you leave
look skyward
still…
Kettle Black
My stirring pot
red painted letter
blame, wrong
dirty secrets
bare old bones
stewed up
an intoxicating brew
clear vision makes plain
the reflection
you
Art
my heart
is finest paper
and you’ve written your song
in loud words and tight scribbles
stray marks
erasures
imprints, folds, holes and scars
where your writing
pierced through
and made a blank page
beautiful
Golifely 