Visiting HoursThe orange jumpsuit really didn't suit her complexion. But, then, they're not exactly intended to be fashion statements. The slow steps with which she moved, her lank hair and sunken cheeks weren't her either.I frowned as she took a seat across from me, "What were you thinking?" I tried to sound curious instead of judgmental.I needn't have tried. She simply lifted a shoulder listlessly, dismissing my question. "Nothing, really."Her appearance already had me so shaken, her attitude disturbed me even more, "Then why?"She lifted her eyes to meet mine, and there was such pain in their blue gray depths, so much strain that had pushed her to the breaking point, I had to look away. Shame that I hadn't seen her pain sooner filled me. Could I have helped? I had no way of knowing, but I wished I'd been able to try.Her quiet voice emphasized the hopelessness of her response, "What's it matter?"
Days 15 and 16Day 15Didn'tBroken windowIncriminating batGuilty lookAnd grass stained clothesYou glare and you yellGoing on aboutResponsibilityPlaying where stuffWon't get brokenBut, I said beforeAnd I'll say again,I DIDN'T DO IT!Day 16Stay A WhileAlways before, when I was afraid orMelancholy, you would hold my hand.I knew everything would be alright.Danger couldn't touch me, IRemember. And I rememberEverything stoppedAnd I forgot to breathe, hearing you wereMortal, like me. And you were gone.I sense your comforting presence,Nestled in your arms, everything'sGoing to be alright.
Thanks, LadyWelcome glimpsesIn the spring,Lakes of colorsDancing on the roadsideFlowing in the breeze.Lady Bird Johnson's legacyOffers this treat,Welcoming to our gazeEvery year,Returning for a distressinglyShort, but beautiful time.
Broken VowDaring the fates,Only you would make such a promiseNever one to fear what may lie ahead"There is nothing that will take me away."Gone now, despite your vow,Oblivion has taken you.
In the ShadowsWhere you fear the dark,I find it a lark.When your eyes cannot see,You will try hard to flee.Your desp'rate flight will be short,I will have the last retort.
NaPoWriMo Catch upReach (Day 9)Grand goalsTerrifyingly out of reach,Causing a paralyticLack of action.Break it down,Bit by bitIt can be done.Opinion (Day 10)Poison dribbleStaining the airOr inspirational blessingsIlluminating the dark.It could be eitherOr anything in between All dependingOn yourOpinion.Poison(Day 11>The snakeHissing into the earVenom drippingInto the brainDissolving synapsesUntil the mindIs the shapeThe whispererDesires.
we who are wearywe who were afraid of those dim evenings,homesick for the soft rains which werenever ours,are uncertain again ofthe waning stroke of the moon.we who embrace the wickedleave the seasons to maneuver themselvesand wind into each other,sure of their graceful oblivion.we who are weary descend,following our fingers as they are rising,risingfollowingescapingthe thick air before it can kill,we who were once war personified,worn down,wornwarn them of our great coming.and we shall not run,but walk.
january, the last moonbase of 2014The fatigue-factoriesshut downfor the holidays,hobbies sighinginto light, casual clouds.It's two weeks of middling sleep,a lucidity in calm.I'll read Kushner and Heany,rest like the pigeon guardssnoozing in the peaceful nightwhen morning, their branch-gobletcapturing the arctic infinityof moisture above.The moon, shining,beside fraternalJupiter, hispinprick winklightbroadcasting, broadcasting,2015.
Winter PoemThe snow is fallingCovering the ground in white fluffCold but quietBeautiful and soothingSnuggling with loved oneDrinking hot cocoa by the windowDecorating the tree with the kidsHaving dinner with family on Christmas eveWishes being fulfilled on Christmas dayWorld peace for a 24-hour timeChildren playing in the cotton white groundOpening gifts and sharing sweetsSitting by the fireDog sleeping by your sideKitten purringBy the window side"Winter time is beautiful"I think as I kiss my Katy"I love you all my friends"I say as I hug Lillian
Winter ComethA fortnight since the last rainIt's been only snow since thenSince Winter unsheathed her shine-sleek spearAnd thrusted it into the earth below,And shook her to the core, with fits and shiversThe permafrost-bound plants- they beg for release,But they faint, to awaken in the spring.A fortnight, it's been, since the reign of the Sun,Her Eyes gazing over our land,But since then, the ice steals the light from soulsWeary travelers lost in the desert of Winter's Wrath.Unending dunes of glaciers on land.Their chipped claws lie scattered atop the frozen green.A fortnight, it's been, since those summer days were lostWe feel no more pain, for we know nothing else.We are damned to die, within this glacial prison.There is no salvation, inside or out.Even our goddess- who dances across the sky by day-Sleeps beneath a cover of darkness, and will do so forever.Winter cometh to strike us againGoodbye, my children.Goodbye, my friends.We are the last of our kind,Locked away in t
In This Little MicrocosmIn this little microcosma world of patterns existWater and sand collide, creating intricate forms.Some smooth and long, others tight.Parts of the earth, stronger and fixed,splays playground about which to caper.Daily, at first moon's signal,water rushes in, at times in torrent, by others, caress.Each day's forces create their own patterns,in deference to this fluid and complex dance.Then, at second moon's signal,water retreats, as sand becomes calm and nestled,spiriting away particles to mix for return,whilst lingering dampness absorbs.How would water know complexity without sand's presence?The contrast of murkiness and clarity?How would sand refine and nourish lifewithout the movement of water?And of the stone...What would the water flow around and over?What sensation would exist,to define the water's dexterous nature against its solid lover?And the stone, without water,would never know smooth form,nor polished finish, born of time and persistence,nor wet reli
Life of mist / Viata din ceataEnglish:I see the life of mistits silentious murmurthe breath that dancesin illuminated patchesThe corner of urban disconnectionIt's a bird's flightCaressing tranceWithin the life of mistThat surrounds usHere, we are everywhere,Disintegrated wholeWe sway in the mistWe are a universe,With suns that danceWith us, fireflies,Hyperactivity in the bonesBecause we seeThe life of mistRomana:Vad viata din ceataMurmurul silentiosSuflarea ce danseazaIn bucati de luminaColtul deconectarii urbaneE zbor de pasari,Transa ce mangaieIn viata cetiiCe ne invaluieAici, suntem peste tot,Intregi dezintegrati,Ne leganam in ceataSuntem un universCu sori ce danseazaCu noi, licurici,Hiperactivitate in oasePentru ca vedemViata din ceata
Paper CranesTo take to the starsOn weightless wings of gilded treesThat never failAnd never cease;A rapid continuum of beauty,Dusk’s rays diffusing through the firmamentBringing cerulean licked midnight greys on crest.Twinkling eyes to light their predestined pathBlinking only when a cloud passes by.They shiver and twitch…The metal hands of tinkerous manWrapped lovingly around their fragility.The room is seeping with anticipationWhen placed one by one on the sill.They shiver and twitch…Shiver;Twitch;Fold;Wings bend on delicate creasesTesting limitations with quick mischievous flapsThe moon casts her spell on the windowsillLuring in the essenceIlluminating the thousand works of artBefore they rise into the expectant nightTo take to the stars
There May Be Hope for Us Yet.Through candle lights and the sound of stringsI see the world evolve in all of its glories,It remains complex and clean, pristineIt shines through ages of metal, and the mountains stand tallRivers of golden lightThey chuckle and cluck, as the soft stones that slumber underneathtickle their toesThe sand between my fingersAshes of civilizations long pastThey still war with hatred as ancient as the skyTides of battle become sand, in time.All of that is long gone, it seemsFor humanity has taken its last steps among the soilMothers of sand, Fathers of ash, and Children of the dustThey all disappear in a momentA twinkle of a distant starAn everlasting spectacular glow upon all the landsAnd, to think, nature can resume...There may be Hope for us yet.
below the treelinein mountain chill, immobilemute, mesmerizedbeneath scattered night-blown clouds -i see hundreds of evergreen treeslike attentive dark arrows, aimingstraining toward a full moonthey appear unified in readiness -perhaps to pursue a placeless despoiled by... Us?llp - dA - dec2014
Bright ShadowBright shadow,Edged in goldAnd green.The entire cycleIn one simple view.