I am a Storyteller, first and foremost. This is my blog for poetry, prose, stories, excerpts of my novels and videos. Life poetry, prophetic poetry, poetry for all genres. I think you'll find yourself here if you read long enough.
Adjusting to the Silence Adjusting is never easy For the heart is set in stone To turn to touch the one you love And find that they are gone. The ears are tuned to tender words The hands are taught to reach The smile's a prize for sorrowed eyes And the tongue, it lives to teach. But these things are worthless to a soul That has no anchor's depth A ship that's tossed on a lonely sea With one crew member left. The prose of your heart, it fills my thoughts With passion's memory, calls The laughter that taught my heart to sing Is silenced, once, for all. Adjusting to the silence (I do not think I can) My world's an empty seashell now Half buried in the sand. My ears are full of wordless roars That make no sense, no rhyme Those sounds of joy were all deployed When our love ran out of time.
This white-walled room Streaked with lavender From the glass heart Hanging in the window In the sun........... The heart you gave me With a smile in your eyes The heart that was shattered By cruel unthinking hands And was mended, restrung, on it's white silken cord. My bare feet rest On moon pale carpets Strewn here and there On hardwood floors Clean and cold as a hard winter snow. Silky white curtains Flutter in day breeze, Tease the book's pages As it lies on the shelf Reading to it's self of my long ago dreams. And here sit I In my satin and lace White sofa covered with pillow and fur Waiting, as I often do For my life to go on...... Long, silver mirrors Catch the odd glow of sun, Of fragmented purple, of my long raven hair And reflect back the silence That the world cannot hear. In the garden, a cat And the song of a lark Sharp smell of roses And the whisper of trees But I do not turn, I sit stiller than stone. Waiting for footsteps to fall on the stair, A door opening softly and the embrace of your eyes Waiting for the smile that once out shined the sun Waiting for forgiveness in a world that's gone dark. Maybe today, I think, he'll come He'll stand behind me, brushing my hair Watching me watching him as I did in the mirror Before I crushed his heart like the lavender glass Now mended, restrung, on the cord in the sun. Maybe today in this white room The wind will blow my hair like ribbons, The book will close and my heart find peace Maybe today, on moon pale carpets My sad, sad feet will stand up and dance. A sound in the garden, not of cat or of bird On the wind there's a sweetness And a tasting of hope Gently, the lavender heart starts to sway And I watch it transfixed and I turn towards the door....
