A boy’s Innocence
I just read 13 pages with a song
The dance is close to each phrase
This epithet of a boy
The boy was the kiss of Inspiration
Known
Dancing Words; excited by the conscious conclusions
Shaking my soul, quaking with fear, I’m awake
What is this old familiar friend I lust to know
A love so treasured and true, I’m known
Known in love with my truth
Still the illusion of past shadows surrounds me
I have nothing to do with my now I’m awake
Quaking with this old familiar friend again
I don’t know who I am, do you?
Light casting a shadow I didn’t create.
I am here and I am known.
Long Island Waits
Long Island sits waiting for wealth and wisdom. I tiptoe a long line of stories that bring wealth to a life. Why can’t I have a stride of forthright postures I thought I knew. I didn’t, and I wonder why. What will I do with my imaginary longings on Long Island. Can I step into history and forgive myself for not making the grade of life of my wishes and Dreams. Let me be a part of a life I once lived in the taste I wished for!
Waking to love
I lay in a quiet state before waking. I am seeing before my lids are open. They stare as focus lightens after the sun has caused a bright glow within me. How can eyes see behind lids while still asleep? My breath teases me wanting release. Arms stretch, fingers reach, while flopping onto the bed. I’m awake. You reach out and lean to trace my lips, as they long for a kiss. Where have you been? As tingling waves dance, reaching my toes. I wiggle and arch back. Your hand reaches under me pulling me into shoulders wrapping around me, while tugging the sheets swaddling my child like needs. Shoulders squeeze me.
The cool air enjoys the sheets waiting for me to let go, knowing I have held on for too long. I am in a tug of war with my head, heart and toes. I want to feel the days calling in its magic. The deepness of my breath into my chest and my stomach rises, I pause then standing. I’m breathing out into the day. You are waiting and we are up and off together.
Freedom, Freedom
It was the freedom of youth.
England! Who would think I would go to live in England: Kingston upon Hull to be exact; the east riding of Yorkshire, located near the North Sea on the Humber River. How did I ever manage that? High School was a bust. Sweet, frighted with barely being a cyclical young girl. My cycle started at the age of 16 and quickly faded. I was active and roller skated, not willing to sit still. I was so thin I often said if anorexia was in fashion or even defined in my knowledge. Doctors wanted me to gain weight by giving me the protein drink. They gave old people and also put me on one of the first pills for birth control. What Doctors played with in those days was amazing. Perhaps we were test subjects. Mental health or creative personalities were not talked about in school or at home. For me it was the path of least resistance or being ruled with an iron glove.
The Skin of Exitance
You are somewhere feeling my care
The skin of existence
There are no conscious decisions
Only a needle sending the puncture of desire
I sit and know this truth
Building within each riddle of words
Piercings of connections are mine alone
Evening came with a poem and a song
Notions point me to reason in my story
Words shift to reality and my feast begins
I have heart and a wealth in expression
Love steps into my collections of words and thoughts
Intricate reasons lost and found
Legacy begins in rewriting our stories
Singing praises of growth and pain
Talk to me of your passions
Let me know and be told of the love we hold
Be the tender story of a friend
We will play one more time in truth
I will give you the same legacy with your tenderness.