Not to Begin | Daisy
the saddest tragedy
not able to even
take one step
to try to be something
you thought you
couldn’t
enjoy life at least some
never knowing what
might have been
or never was
because you
never tried
the saddest tragedy
not able to even
take one step
to try to be something
you thought you
couldn’t
enjoy life at least some
never knowing what
might have been
or never was
because you
never tried
His big sweaty palm leaves a mark.
She barely notices his touch.
She’s on her fifth Rum and Coke
Rum to get that tension down,
Coke to keep you standing.
Old-fashioned drink but who
cares and she doesn’t do stuff.
He wishes for a large ungulate
and a shiny armor.
It’s a sweet summer night and the
‘Slug and Lettuce’ is full. He gets
waylaid by shiny things.
It’s so inevitable.
She’s switches to vodka orange.
Her wings feel wooden.
Her laughter sounds shriller.
Her standing becomes erratic.
His kisses taste of brass.
Strange.
She thought he was in equities.
When she slides into fetal position
by the green container
the trombone falls from his hands.
Don’t touch
my soul.
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These days I walk
at an easy pace
In cold autumn months
I choose sheltered streets
where wind is more merciful
to my face
Climbing up steep terrain
tires my heart,
each breath gasps for the next
I no longer try to be
a marathon runner
In the end of it all
time catches up- anyway
Today I bade farewell again
to another season
Watch last oak leaves
falling onto a cold ground
Take the time to listen
to my own footsteps
Sometimes, I think of us
in idyllic northern summer
lazing by the winding river
Gazing over water ripples
stealing our reflections
Riding horses through
corn fields- unfazed of
what is behind our sphere
Little we knew then how
in the future
we had to carry the world
on our shoulders,
loaded with consequences
of our actions
Decisions made in haste
not knowing how in life
everything has its price
These days I walk with care
I don’t want inflict pain
on anyone- on anything
I hope you too think of the time
where we stepped into adulthood
and on this crossroad of life,
we lost each other- forever
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.
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Haven’t seen my brother lately?
Seems like a thousand days,
Told him shan’t talk to him again,
Till he mends his ways,
Not spoken to me Dad?
Since he had that go,
When I mentioned it to me mum?
She didn’t want to know,
And my sister not seen her,
Since she started seeing Ray?
Last I heard from a mate,
He had got her in the family way,
Sometimes I think about my family,
Wondering how they all are,
Often think about calling in,
When passing in the car,
Been years since last saw them,
Heard my Dad had died,
Wish I had made up with him,
A strange thing that is pride,
Mum has been in a state,
Were married forty years,
Be strange going to funeral,
As not seen her for years,
Our Tommy will be there
And my sister Chelle,
All rest of family too,
As we say our final farewell,
Wish I had made up with him,
Can’t remember what was said,
No chance to put things right,
Not now that he’s dead,
Strange that word family,
And just what that word means,
Especially when they fall apart,
Over such silly trivial things,
Alas life is short,
And you don’t get a second bite,
Maybe pride should be swallowed,
For that chance to put things right.
Time spent and money wasted
On shallow friends and beer a tasted
I can get home by any means
But I’ll never get back my life and dreams
Profound brown leaves,
crushed underneath my
feet, like memories; swirling
and forlorn.
I dream of us and our children,
it’s the good times that I cling
onto in the noonday sun.
It’s the memories that shelter
me, from the onslaught of winter
woe.
It’s the knowledge of loneliness,
that mortifies me the most, lost
without my family.
It’s facing a craggy city, threading
a bleak needle of homelessness,
asleep in some derelict house, long
abandoned by inhabitants, encased
now by only the darkness and me.
—–
Wayne Russell is an amateur photographer and creative writer who was born and raised in Florida. Wayne’s musings have been published online and in print since about 1990. Wayne is a recovering alcoholic who currently roams the streets of Columbus, OH.
Forgiven and forgotten
or forgotten at the least
is the harm I have done
to those I have known
on this earth of whom
indeed many are dead
immune to any apologies
whether said or unsaid.
Yet my mind is driven
backwards time after time
to the myriad moments
of cruelty or insensitivity
regretting while reliving
in that troubled subworld
of memory what cannot
ever be rectified now or then
myself by myself unforgiven.
I had none
entering, not a
shadow of
misgiving
now I have
at least
nine in a row
I am all
regrets
replacing
snowy egrets
of hope
buried in
a snow of my
making,
a cold
foolishly chosen.
A shade of what
might have been cut down
living life looking backward
or even sideways
is a difficult way to travel.
But I have my mug
all of my supplies
with a beaten path forged.