Chapter One Hope is the thing with feathers; that perches in the soul; and sings the song without the words; and never, stops, at all. ~ Emily Dickinson I am a poet. Well, sort of ~ I am also a dog. Yet many humans don’t realize I have this gift of poetry along with an […]continue reading Ti Amo! A tale/tail of hope ~
We have options As to where where, oh, where do we belong? As the winter of our lives curls up in a corner like a bone-weary kitten our special needs friends family uncertain as to what to do lie in wait anxious for us to finish yet aching with excruciation to make it meaningful.continue reading My Friend II
Too late Forests of hate We incubate A unidirectional radiation of grief. How do we love those who cannot love us? How do I surrender my heart? It is done.continue reading Mother, May I ?
The eyes are cloudy Neck muscles ripple tension catching the light The voice struggles to enunciate Weary, worn, and weak. A bird flutters outside the window Adorning a setting sun On a lavender-colored lake With songs of mating. Inside, the eyes sparkle, rivet, and descend to folded hands on a frozen lap that cannot quite […]continue reading My Friend
My head is soaked Blood splatters across my chest Eyes cry out for nourishment And yet . . . Aching throbbing wincing Hungering dear eyes Half-eaten dreams Recalling what? A time A time when A time when it was embedded Curled scraping ensnared A fatigue of battle ~ with a hint of hope, undead. […]continue reading Battle Fatigue
My heart will beat with the calmness of a newly born soul Held tightly in the arms of the Great Spirit who sees inside those standing near her without fear without tremor without judgment spilling over. Instead I will breed new life within my depression-storing and anxiety-inducing responses and even the agony of stopping too […]continue reading My Heart Will Beat
Thin gangly arms, hair cut above her ears, she lives high in the trees overlooking the Florida seaside town. Her Cherokee mother places her into the ballet classes of a reknowned Italian dance teacher ~ with the hope she will cease beating up little boys. Nine-year-old Muscles would go on to live and breathe classical […]continue reading Muscles Murphey
I wish I were Up high in the trees Where I could see the lives Of loved ones and animals Where I am protected Hidden and smelly Safe and soiled Unknown to anyone Unknowable to all Freshly seeing the world Youngish and churlish live yet brilliant Contentedly passing time Never to be found wanting Never […]continue reading Come Find Me!
This very day staring at the water Lapping kissing frolicking An edge of life My mind flips to the smell of blood Her blood; our blood Why now? Who’s? Where am I? When? An entity on a gurney Scraping sounds with clacking wheels She is covered with Splotched white There is a hush as I am pushed up against a […]continue reading Her
She walks In grace Spreading Landing Touching Buffeting Intoning Causing Regaling Peace-launching.continue reading A Presence
Definition of American Fugue: A period of loss of awareness of America’s identity; often coupled with flight or departure from our known environment. Rigid frozen cumbersome. She cannot call up her tears They choke sway remember Push hold her breathless Think of the ending The ending of pain ~ Rough harsh intermittent insolent driven relentless […]continue reading American Fugue
The flowers are dead My son is dead Papa is dead Du is dead All five Rescue Animals are dead America is dead. Family relations are splintered Friends are reluctant Art weeps for Small signs of healing The lake the lake Into the lake of countless tears Uncried tears from my wearily-torn heart. August […]continue reading Uncried
I hear not one clipped violin what was he thinking, I wonder was his heart broken into splintered mountains of God’s hands tired and weary, yet guiding shoving leading affirming breaking ending in a minor stunned chord hanging we are hanging and left questioning forever. August 25, 2017 Meldrum Poetry ~ prompt: Samuel Barber’s Adagio, […]continue reading Hanging
Water falls Each drop suspended Landing in my hair On my shoulders Dancing on my tongue Pooling little mirrors On the sidewalk It makes me laugh I feel such joy I do not use an umbrella As I dance throughout my reality.continue reading Rain-Swollen
wakened with anguishing Cracked heart pieces Numbing adoration for Humans Unkind Unnecessarily unkind Mean-spirited Harboring ill Harming ways Blood screams of Silence Where might I go? Where do I fit? Where do I belong? Hello, Fawn ~ Great Spirit God here, Remember how your heart always seemingly Stays open to those who don’t Fit or […]continue reading Waken