he fled from the mountains
arrived at the sea
leaving
all his gifts behind him
including me
white knights and sacred shells
reach out past sad
beyond
the sand a token
within this map
you came...so i left
you didn't notice
pretending
i never really cared
i am not sure how it settles...
the stone past the surface of the water
my words, my appraisal
in a crunch i refer to little boxes
sometimes empty
decorated with ribbons
sometimes filled with feathers carved in stone
i fall back on their sentimental comfort
of who i wish to be
strong, undaunted
graceful despite the climate
just like all the other ladies i admire
yet i sit at the bottom of this pond
i am not sure if it is mirky or clear
if my visions make sense to me at this moment
it may just be lie
i must hold the flag of my own destiny
fold up notes that overtake my heart
but then
i think i might miss them
i feel afraid that if i stand tall
i will find i do not exist
pieces of my flight
though they be stone
brought me here thus far
i would be leaving the little girl
with paper dolls
alone and still afraid
she said she knew you
i, of course took up her time
quoting our best/ worst moments
yet, only in my head
she never really heard our history
my memories burn still unspoken
be sure to call her everyday, she said
'every' day?
every single day?
just keep it short
that's really all that's needed
how do you fill a bottle too small?
how do you comb the hair of an old dolly
who's locks are now sparse?
how do you find the voices
remembered
take them back
comfort them
instruct them in the art of positive thinking?
my moods are not always my own
neon blue continues on
i am neither sad nor happy
i guess i find myself relieved
waiting for tears if i need them
i never realized her poems to be so short
so inconclusive
so undefined
she always seemed so magnificently tormented
ahhh zelda
where are you when i need you?
pointing in the direction of the sky
i expected beyond
but the treasure was in the trees
my eyes gathered them
standing beneath and within
i bend my branches
born with a melancholy
poets charm that pathway
books and paintings
sculptures of flight
rounded off with a drunken stupor
my fingers feel numb
i approach the station to arrive
i have been there and back
i am coated with the very same torment
said with few words
on the pages that you sent to me
if i had roses to give you
i would have buried them
muted their breath
measured their penitence
stopped the flood of overflowing criticism
the rain continues
I thought it's shoulders were undaunted.
horizontal landscapes catch the rhythm
hold gifts
good and bad
none the less given with due remarks of wanting shelter
in the presence of unadorned queens
was it you who never stopped noting thorns
of now quieted roses?
or me who allowed their travel?
What makes us decide 'one day'.... that 'this day' we will do better?
'This day' we will smile on everything as if we were seeing it for the first time.
'This day' we will take time out for our own selves.
'This day' we will climb that emotional mountain that seemed inconceivable 'yesterday'.
'This day' we 'will' do what we had only 'hoped' we would do 'before'.
'This day' we will FLY.
Dreams encircle my mind
and live up to promises
stolen by time.
Take back the time
when dreams were young
were mine.
Slide into shadows and waves
remembered by some..
Some who were young
some who were young
remember the days
those days.
Dreams colide or abide
testing their way
some will decay.
But I miss
I miss
the closeness of you.
A blow delivered by fate
she smiles and eyes know
and dances to rhymes
but will always remember
the time
and so goes the time
so goes the time.