As a sensible,
As a logical,
And a well informed fellow
I asked that when you meet the Devil
Where do you draw the line?

Quick wit, to leave me assured
You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line

Persistent and fiendish, as Devils are
He barreled through the line, with evil in his eye

Thankful to have a friend, I asked, is this enough?
Uneasiness overcame me when you said it was okay.

Quick wit, to leave me assured
You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line

But he truly was hell, this ****** Devil
Carelessly he pushed right through, past the line again.

Worried, I asked, well surely we're in danger?
Of course not, he replied, siding with Devil and his plan

Quick wit, to leave me assured
You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line

With no limit, his forked tongue just laughed
Storming through again, no one in his way

Terrified, I pleaded, this nonsense had to stop
My friend, now foe, said this is the only way

How foolish I must be to,
To ever believe a line that couldn't be crossed.
And to think you'd stand by me.

Short dark hair under
a dogeared baseball cap
tipped my way
a perfect smile on your face
crisp  white pocketed T-shirt
dark blue Levi jeans  
worn all-weather Chippewa boots
rugged, young and handsome
holding a stop sign for children
best crossing guard ever.

Cherie Nolan  © 2016

I don't think I'll ever be content
With the way I look,
The way I sing,
The way I talk
Or walk
Or dress
Or run
But you are
I don't think I'll ever be okay with the way I hold in my thoughts
Or how I don't always look both ways before I cross the street
Or how negativity brings clouds over my head
But you don't seem to mind
I didn't know that I could actually be loveable
Until you showed me that even God loved Lucifer
Once long ago
You showed me how to love myself
How to speak with a gentle tounge-
To speak my mind and be heard
That even when I'm off pitch
You love my melodies
That even though I'm not content
You are
With every flaw, ever scratch, every fade

I now look both ways before crossing the street.

She asked me
what I did for a living
I told her I was a surgeon
She asked me which kind
I told her I open up hearts
She smiled a white lie
then followed with a sigh
I don't think she realizes
that I meant I was writer

This is a time of
separating paths
but pacts need not
be broken.
You and I will know.

Know all the cars
that cross the border
past the weathered sign.

Welcome To A Brand New Place
I can see your face
reading the words
but your lips don't move
your eyes don't blink.

Stand over the bridge and
let pebbles fall into the river.
I needn't hold on
to these former times
I find they remain.
This is a time.

Blessed are those able
to relinquish control
to the trees.
Blessed are the trees
whose falling leaves
fertilize the soil.

You sit there
steering wheel in hand
facing something and saying
so this is God
I am a mere child
once more.

It is February
From my balcony
Yesterday I saw
a man in suit and tie
eating his lunch in a Mercedes
some old ladies crossing the street
in colorful hats
Maybe they were from England
A group of Jews with beards
and long coats walked slowly

“Let them mind their business,
while we have *** in the city”
Said she
and we took our clothes off
All this time
amid the noise and mayhem
We made love
culminating in syrupy peace

The sands sleep beneath the mists
As the breath of time sets in
And the memory of you
Settles soft upon my skin
I feel your hand of time entwined in mine
As you call me your El Cid
I return the devotion , calling you Jimena , my devine
And across the morning mist
We will once again walk hand in hand

In a latter day I found a wonder
But no where near the age
I am sadden by the book
With the many missing page

If you are my Jabal Tariq
Then I will be your rock El Cid

But far across there is such distance
That no man can rid
Perhaps in another life
Closer we will be . . . .
And I will return as your El Cid
As you my Jemena , come back to me

This Black African nun in cherished photo
she calls our right to vote
Her kindness in her laughing squinting eyes,
and her kind bow smile to match
The voice of liberty written and etched upon
her kind and brilliant face; all imprinted for years
to come

All hail her bus with her sisters all in one;
a beautiful chariot on busy wheels that run
across our nation to give a helping hand
And lift our thirsty spirits on a dry and desolute land

They hold that lamp of liberty on kind hands
and gentle voice, but strong in truth be known,
to hold our basic right, to close those drapes and
snap a switch, to a voice of our own

They cross our land in valor in gentleness and kind
these nuns of liberty and justice in an unjust time

Their hearts are made from goodness; their strength
so often done, in a land so heavily pillaged, they will
never never succumb. They see a new sun rising over
the distant hill
They know their work of justice never to be still...