Every time you walk away you take a piece of me;
I try to find myself on the battlefield of lost love.
In piles of debris, you leave me scattered.
Tag: Writing
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I took the parts of you that they so quickly discarded and that no one wanted, and held them, and kissed them, and nurtured them, and loved them, and washed them, and polished them; and until I wept, extended my arms with open hands under the light of heaven—and when I drew my arms back in, I looked, and discovered that all along, I had been holding precious diamonds.
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In my mind, you wear a crown of seven stars,
A one-shoulder silk ultramarine blue dress,
a floral designed gold necklace, heels—
And an ankle bracelet, and you are mine.In my mind, we communicate with each other
Passionately, in devotion divine.In my mind, we transcend earth’s gravity
And make impassioned love in the skies.In my mind, I say, mi amor, how was your day?
And you say lovingly, honey, it was fine.You walk past me, and I turn my head,
So you don’t see the not so subtle longing
In my eyes.In my mind, emerald rain falls on you and I,
And I profess my love to you through my speech,
And through the tears of joy that I cry.In my mind, you are immersed in warm honey,
In a white marble bathtub—
Wearing diamond chandelier earrings
And a diamond stud nose ring,
In the most beautiful garden,
Under the shade of cherry blossom trees
That are gorgeous in their flowering.You walk past me again;
In my heart, soul, and mind—
I love you, without you even knowing. -
You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this,
and you will find strength.
—Marcus Aurelius -
When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious
privilege it is to be alive — to breathe, to think, to enjoy,
to love.
– Marcus Aurelius -
Emerald rain falls on magical kisses.
The world is seen through purple lenses.
Redwood trees stretch their branches to the heavens.
Grey whales communicate lovingly;
Sunlight glistens on jumping dolphins.
Kodiak bears stand on their hind legs
Searching for the North Star;
The Earth spins on her axis,
And the fire inside her dances.
The Sun looks at Mercury and notices her jealousy;
Saturn shows off his ringlets
And taunts Earth’s gravity.
Earth responds quickly and teases Saturn
About his low density.
Pregnant mothers feel the kicking of their babies;
Persephone escapes the underworld
And promptly divorces Hades.
Dionysus stands unclothed in the company of many ladies.
Twilight lovers whisper to each other passionately;
Sensual dreamers awake suddenly in lament,
trying to recapture their fantasies. -
A beautiful moon.
The fall air is cool.
Music is therapy.
A picture of my mother
under lamp light.There is a peculiar stillness in darkness.
Creatures of the night move
mysteriously in the starlight.A bookmark protrudes in between
Pages 100 – 101
Frederick Douglas: Prophet of Freedom
by David W. Blight.Two windows half way opened;
The branches and leaves of fall trees
move gracefully in light breeze.The beauty of a clear sky
and twinkling stars overhead.Several books stacked up at the edge of a large table.
Fine point and ball point pens mixed in
with a few pencils and markers in a container.A stack of notebooks and writing pads.
Scented candles I’ve never used.
The humming of an air purifier.
A large cup of coffee with sweet condensed milk.
The comfort of a warm quilt.
A beautiful note written to me from someone
over twenty years ago on the back of a card
with a white dove and backdrop of floral colors,
that was recently rediscovered. -
Crushed burgundy rose petals mark the remnants of love scattered.
The blood of bruised roses stain flax linen sheets.
The scent of Chanel No. 5 lingers on a plush off white comforter;
A fuchsia colored silk robe graces the edge of the Canopy bed that is behind her.
She is adorned with an ankle bracelet,
And gold necklace furnished with a pendant bearing a picture of her mother.
Past her shoulders are wondrous falls of curled black water;
She smiles; a goddess looks into the mirror. -
Passionate whispers linger;
I taste you;
I feel you even in my slumber.
I am reborn in you with every touch anew;
With every intimate memory kept.
I revert to them often,
And I am yours. -
Wailing is heard in darkness behind heavy black curtains;
The sorrowful long for the light,
But the darkness constantly whispers—
Cradling in its womb like a perpetually pregnant mother.
An umbilical cord of despondency feeds its blind baby;
The child is gaunt and withered within four walls;
Its amniotic sac of agony is the purgatory of dark halls.
The melancholic stumble listlessly,
Holding on to wooden bannisters lest they fall.
The precious tears of the tormented are cried in unbridled lamentation;
The flesh is weary, but still sleep is not found.
In the hell of insomnia the afflicted are bound.
The dark mother tries to sooth her kicking child
With the singing of perfidious lullabies;
It is calculating and vicious in its lies.
There must be a delivery for the baby to survive.
Dark pupils must see the sunshine;
The mother’s milk must not be ingested—
It is the milk of unceasing agony and poison;
Her whispers of love and safety are not genuine.
She causes the once strong to fall to their knees and crawl.
The tears of her children are scattered between anguished calls;
Witness the final moments of her torment
On blood soaked sheets and blood spattered walls.
See the transfixed open eyes of those that long cried.
No reprieve was found; there was no sunshine.
There was no light to illuminate desolate nights;
Still, the darkness whispers, trying to sell her wares.
The light must be found lest they all disappear;
At 4 AM, in darkness, gaunt hands rub against walls feeling for stairs;
In front of unlit fireplaces, in worn chairs,
The despondent sit listlessly;
In darkness, they stare.
Intimate Compositions 