Cherry Blossoms

Cherry blossoms

Pretty pink lips blowing lazy, soft kisses

Waving on gentle bursts of sunny breath.

Crisp, clean, perfumed in powdery pollen puffs,

Whispering good morning to all the passers-by...

In a dark room
with spotted lights
hangs a spirit
of remembrance
with a small smile
and haunted eyes.

On a gloomy day
with a clouded sky,
a girl listens quietly
to the breeze.

As her hair flies
and her tears dry,
a baby is left
screaming alone.

The world bellows in
agony.
Every corner possesses
a secret tragedy
that won't be brought
into the spotted light.

(Not sure when this poem was written or how I feel about it.  My guess is in some high school class, based on the paper.)

Above

Light me up
Bring me higher
Than I've ever billowed.
You're the twist and turn that gives my body
Shape
Heat
My vapor love.
Oh fill me up
Quaking and shaking and trembling for more.
Be my soulspiration
Like no one ever before.
Take the edge off
Make my world smooth again as
I draw you in
with each quick breath
And one long exhale.
Intoxicate me, baby
And never let me win.
I'm an addict, and
I need, need, need my fix


Again!

Upon the Passing of a Matriarch In Loving Memory of Grandma

Your ship is no longer sailing

You’ve wisely changed your route

I journeyed through forlorn weather

Still my optimism was acute

Though I wanted to see you smiling

I’m glad you chose calmer seas

Because I’d rather see you resting

Than struggling through storms like these

I hoped against the news that

 Your vessel’s run ashore

Yet slowly I have found

That hope exists no more

At first I tried to refuse but

I’ve come to change my stance.

In truth, I couldn’t deny it.

It was time to give death a chance.

What is this thing in my chest?
Is it a heart? Or is it my soul
Beating out the rhythm of my ways?
Reminding me of all the beauty that paints my life,
Keeping my blood winding through my body,
inspiring every step and every breath,
So I can inhale the magic of the trees and freshly cut grass, glistening with the morning's love.

Or is it you?
Reminding me of your presence,
enveloping me like a familiar bathrobe that cradles my memory and soothes my aches away.

You, whose life was a challenge, a dare to all to exceed everyone's greatest expectations.
To leave the marsh and return with vigor and vim,
Ready to wrestle all the demons and naysayers.
No need for limbs,
your strength is in your eyes, your chuckle, and your brilliant, odds-defying brain.

I want you to guide me and light my path, but you're too wise and far too patient.
Instead, you walk beside me,
Letting me discover how to pick myself up after a stumble.
Oh, how I wish you'd take my hand, but you know best.
Drummer of my life, accompanying my rhythm with the solidity of your soul,
Comforting me even as your memory brings tears to my eyes
and a smile in my heart (oh! there it is!)
Buried within this armor of mine.

I hear your quiet chuckle as you whisper "aw, shoot" and shake your head in amusement and transcendent love.

I am her daughter,
she is my kin.
I know you can't see
all the connections within.

You'd have to look closely,
past that without.
Blue eyes, blond hair,
I know why you doubt.

But life's not so simple
and neither is love,
she is my mother
open your eyes, see traces of

her smile in mine
her cheekbones, my voice
She's given me all these
and much more by choice.

So go on and question
I know you're beguiled
because secrets run deeper
between mother and child.

Happy Holidays!

Testimony of a voluntary victim

Sadness is the drug
That seeps into your soulstream
And leadens your eyelids and steps
Then follows you into your dreams.
It finds you in your tiny corner,
And makes you its witness,
Leads you by the hand through the day,
Without the comfort of quickness.
 you let it sit on your lips
And pull them down,
Tie up your hands
And bind you so you can drown.
You give it permission
To hold you hostage,
It fills you up inside
Until you're the skin of its sausage.
You carry it within you wherever you go,
And it becomes your truth,
Your companion and your communication,
And you think that it soothes,
the burning of your scars,
like a melancholy gauze application.
You walk in the space between the moonlight,
And forget the sensation,
Of sun on your skin,
Of laughter in your throat,
and lightness in your being,
And it giggles and it gloats,
While it robs you of your wings,
And you wonder what happened
To the many, many things
That used to be the reason you awakened,
And looked in the mirror,
Instead of sighing into the sink,
These are the meanings of that weight in your gut.
These are the things you forgot to think.