Someone I used to know

 

One day - many years ago - 

you were a tiny thing, 

nestled against my youthful breast

trusting, believing, resting . . . .

but then 

(for some reason

I cannot understand)

you became a little

Ice Princess

twirling to an ethereal whisper

that only you could hear.

And now - you are

Someone I used to know.

A Winter Leaf

 

A winter leaf

dangles precariously at the end

of a naked, frosted branch

withered and curled into itself

as if to protect the little life

remaining inside.

A winter wind

blows across the bare and shivering

branch that quivers in the frozen air

determined to drive 

a winter leaf 

from its tenacious hold

on a fragile, brittle branch.

Soon a winter leaf

must yield to the onslaught 

of wind and rain and

frozen air

and glide gently to the

snow covered ground below

and finally, finally

rest in peace

no longer withered or broken

but reduced to nothingness

And when the spring arrives

a winter leaf will no longer

strive for courage or safety

but silently disappear.

Whisper-Thin Dreams

Whisper-Thin Dreams

PUBLISHED ON March 10, 2017

On the day before winter

when hope finally died

whisper-thin dreams disappeared

with the wind

and . . .

crumbled like dust.

When You Close the Door

When You Close the Door

PUBLISHED ON April 17, 2017

I can always feel it

in my soul –

the shadows on the walls

are somehow different –

darker, colder, more silent

and empty

when you close the door

The Day Before Winter

 

Bare branches etched across the gloomy gray sky

an abandoned bird nest teetering on the edge

of a broken limb

Empty as the barren, broken branches

reaching, reaching, reaching

desperately clutching the last of the

brittle, brown leaves

fluttering in the November wind

Then raindrops - slowly at first -

then silently drench the brokenness

of the tree

on the 

Day Before Winter

Memories of broken, barren arms

reaching, reaching, reaching

to clasp the final

remaining

child to my heart

in the abandoned, empty "nest"

that once was "home"

but no one lives there anymore

on this . . . 

the Day Before Winter

I am not a poet

 

The other day I read about a

Very Important Writer

Who concluded that

"Modern Poetry"

is nothing more than

Random

Words

Separated

By

Meaningless

Spaces

and

Careless 

Punctuation . . . 

(and probably stupid ellipses)

So it was quite obvious that 

my random

Thoughts

Ideas

Opinions

Experiences

Pain

Sadness

or

Joy

are really worthless

wanderings of a

simple soul

But I digress . . . 

I am not a poet.