Long hikes
Naps
Eat well
Show compassion towards animals
Spend less
Give unused things away
Reach out more
Clean out the junk drawer
All these things
The long lists
Goals, desires
Resolutions
But what
What are you doing right now
More at https://www.taralynnhawk.com/.
I cannot sleep
The roll and toss
Twists the covers
But finds no position
For me
To return to dreams
The face of the clock
Mocks me
With its early hour
The slow movement of hands
Like an obscene gesture
Points directly
In my direction
I do not
Want to get up again
The torture
Of fatigue
Lingers from weeks
Of not resting
I cannot turn off
A series of thoughts
Worries
That might never happen
How I long
For the repose
Of my youth
When heavy eyes
Led to a depth
Of unconsciousness
But concerns are with me
The black dog
Nipping at my heels
How I smell
His breath
In the bite
Of guilt
In a host
Of petty details
That in their weight
Makes little difference
I will give up again
Carrying the heaviness
That bends my back
Into the living room
The light is harsh
My eyes convulse
I wait for them
To adjust
Picking a book
From the side
Of the couch
Pausing for a moment
To get the interrupted context
Prior to reading
The few chapters
Before my darling
Rises from her bed
There are moments
Electric currents
That you know
Will never come again
Life changing moments
When decisions are made
Decisions of import
Demanding response
In that fraction
Of a second
That will determine
The course
Of the rest
Of your life
I have had
That crossroads moment
When every thing
Pointed me
To familiar, safe paths
But another
Overgrown with mystery
Somehow appealed to me
Harder to clear my way
Through the brambles
Across marshes
Where my hopes sunk
With every step
Streams out of their banks
Seemed impossible
To ford
But I found shallows
Where pools
Were still
Often I looked back
Questioning my choice
But there was no turning
Pride stoked the adventure
The bleed of ego
Gave me no alternative
But to continue
And now
I am here
Most days
That brings contentment
Others I wonder
Where the other road
Led
The burning and stinging
is excruciating
just before fresh injections.
But, they’ve chiselled a new face
out of the battle-scarred
‘Picture Of Dorian Grey’
that crawled from the wreckage
and ruin
of three Armada divorces,
which would have slain a woman
with half her constitution,
twice over.
Her soul’s on autopilot
as the medication hums and purrs,
mists and fogs
and the sickness drifts and sways.
She pricks her mind awake,
momentarily,
by counting monthly bank statements
from memory.
Each step away
from that childhood dungaree farm
of hand-me-downs
and ne’er quite enough to go ‘round,
forged her spirits
by trial and error,
hard-earned success,
the thrill of the kill
and the giddying high
of outmanoeuvring defeat.
She now needs a
body to match her ambitions…
it’s practical as well as vanity.
She’s forgotten that it’s the little things
which eventually make up the big
whilst at the very same time
unwittingly augmenting
the emptiness inside
to a size and mass too great to ever deplete.
More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
I never fell for that Tooth Fairy nonsense
Anyone could use some pocket change
Ditto for fat Santa and the Easter Bunny
We all want the toys and chocolate eggs
Don’t ever say no until you’ve reflected
There’s an advantage for you, so take it
Simulate a version of personal integrity
A big smile to coast past the nonsense
Never show them any lingering doubts
Be patient, goodies will come your way
The world can definitely be your oyster
All you need is the right sort of shucker.
The door
to the cage
has always
been open
but unfortunately
very few
people ever
choose to
walk out
of it.
More at https://facebook.com/heathbrougher/.
The subversive scheme
of benevolent intention
Fades with the last smile of summer
Sounding an aluminum voice
With an echo of fragile breath
Silence interrupts the
Applause of thunder
Sentiments of affection
Now a crippling disability
Unable to outrun the future
Your long ago in pursuit
On the heels of memory’s shadow.
Littering an already tortured landscape
with leaves of a weathered reputation
The forecast calling for a season of scandal
Created on this resurrection Tuesday.
More at http://5d1dd405a81e9.site123.me/.
I play the game of what-if
Trying to backtrack
Trying to unweave
The paths that have gotten
Me were I am today
Even going as far as diving
Into my ancestors’ paths
Wondering how things
Could have ended up differently
Would I have been someone
Other than this person
I see staring back at me
maybe I would have been a person
Who has her life together
Living up to her full potential
Would it have even truly mattered?
I remember a wild teen
darting down each path
no matter the obvious
warning signs, No thoughts
of how those one lane roads
may have changed everything
Some better not taken
Now in hindsight
Wishing I could go back
to fix the glaring mistakes
Knowing and feeling
As I do now
this older mature self
Wishing I could click
my Nike tennis shoes together
Sending me to the past
to give my younger self
Much needed advice
Heeding the dangers
Of cause and effect
Knowing the game
of what-if leaves
me broken in my loss
and guilt, a scab
I just can’t leave alone
One pointer I’d give
my younger headstrong self
Though I doubt I’d have listened
Pushing away all good advice
and running foolishly headlong
into blissful ignorance
Not ever regarding
Cause and effect
That I might stay kind
even when I want to bite,
put my sword down
and not worry how unprotected
I’ve become to the wounds
others would lay on me,
lay them on me
if that’s what it takes to live on top,
in the right,
lay them deep because I will dig deep,
when I pull your broken blade,
in pieces, out of myself,
I bring love up with it,
however frail and temporary.
That I might be all that I cannot possibly be.
That I at least try.
That you at least know.
It can be done.
She loved like the ocean,
So ruthlessly and so dangerously,
Only she wasn’t just a danger to others,
But herself as well.