You are my world in words
a shaft of sunlight splitting through
a dusty library window
where in silence lives
a heartbeat heard only in your embrace
my face pressed close to you
and your tattoos
every page
my love
Life
Gone
her pillow is her company
since illusion has dissolved
to reality
like darkness to dawn
an understanding
that you and she could never work
despite her desire
and she was forced to face
her neediness and loneliness
and in some instances complete lack of any sense of self so lost
she hates it all and how
you strung up her dead dignity
and let it swing in the wind to be ridiculed
she was alive
the girl who once colored rainbows in black and white lines
is unpacking dark emotions
this purge may not bring purity
but it has brought clarity
and she is glad you are gone
Random thoughts
Off the top of my head
I’ve plucked thoughts of laundry
dinner and love
how one is never done
one must always be planned
and one is never mine
at least not
to my exact specifications
and how all of them
begin with something clean
a cloth a pan a heart
and end up stained
dirty broken or burnt
and I am left to (with some trepidation)
try to get what’s dirty
clean again
Cheers
Drinking Red Bull and Jäger
in a barroom where
broken promises and hearts mingle
with slurred words; distortions
and the beat of glass striking tabletops
instead of tears
an “upper downer” so to speak
that in its own strange way
helps me to take it all in
acceptance that tomorrow
is just another of the very same
day
Plunge
Leave it to me
to climb the ladder to the high dive
look calmly at the blue waves rippling below
and jump in with both feet
only to realize once the cool water
envelopes me…
I can’t swim.
haiku: winter
I made you my rain
your halo like the sunshine
your winter left me
Fickle
From dust
a breath brought you to life
in me
my heartbeat
my song
Shifting moods
and dark clouds
ushered in the storm
From dust you came
to dust you shall return
Unpacking
I’m Lisa, and this is my blog. While I’d like to say I’ve done a million things and I’ve got a laundry list of things I can say about ME and all I have accomplished so I am here to share, I can’t. No gold star. I’m still trying to figure out who I am. That’s, in large part, why I began this blog and why, if you take a look back at some of my earlier posts you’ll see a bit of an evolution. Me, moving in some small way with each post (in essence, a piece of me that I am with some trepidation sharing with the world) toward an understanding of who I am and what I am “about.” I am a work in progress. I am a poet and a writer.
One of the thoughts pervading my mind as of late is, what will I say about myself when I am 50? Fifty years old. A half a century. Two 25 year spans within a lifetime. How will I have changed? Childhood seems far away when I simply look at the numbers, yet hearing a train horn in the distance as I lay in bed can suddenly take me back as if it were yesterday. Sometimes, it definitely feels so.
So there it is. I have no “about.” I have a journey that’s not over yet. A journey that is in constant evolution and one that I have been blessed with the ability to share through words. When I take the time to tap out a simple string, tied together by an idea, a feeling, an emotion, a memory, I connect more with who I am. Perhaps then, when I am 50 I will know more. Maybe then, I will be able to create and clearly articulate who I am, summed up neatly and succinctly on an About page. Until then I will journey and write in this place, this place of words.
Eyes Closed
It’s raining and I find myself
listening to the wipers mechanical sound
As they shift back and forth across the glass
and marveling at the cast
the stoplight’s glow leaves on the road
Green means go
and so I drive knowing this way
will never lead to your heart
yellow, pause take stock and
grip the wheel I know the red light’s coming
stop or go?
Hit the gas…we all want what we can’t have
even when it means we might not make it through
T-boned in the intersection
it’s possible
Knowing this still
I careen recklessly forward
slick roads and all
Eyes closed
Flames catch all
I thought
and truly there is nothing
I would dash to rescue in the flames
my heart is intact
my hands can write
my eyes can fall on those I love
my arms can wrap around them
my mind is alive with joy and memories
brighter than the fire
and hotter still…
knowing this, I’d stand and watch
as the flames catch allIn response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Burning Down the House.”
Golifely 