Blonde in a red Corvette, free as a bird
Me, just a child, staring at her
Remember thinking that's where I'm gonna be
In a red Corvette, at 33
No kids, no baggage, not even a dog
Stomp on the gas, and simply take off
No limits, no signs, just a juicy sunset
The wind in my hair, not an ounce of regret
She never saw me, but I'll never forget
The phoenix who flew past me, in a red Corvette

It's funny, How things always come full circle.

Intelligence brings a strange mixture of
laughter & worry, lonely for
sure.
With no one to consult with, confessions
made to abandoning priests, art
as refuge, nothing to return to, utter
a lonely person. Gutted & lonely,
hanging from the tree of life.

I love art,
I like history…
I love museums and the galleries,
I like dancing,
I love music,
I love it here but…
I loved it there

Droplets of dots my leaking inks espousing like vapor on mirror dew on leaves my heart dots my love expression

The valleys, and hills
And a clear sky-blue lake
Floating marshmallow clouds
Leave the sunshine, in their wake
The trees whistling, in silent winds
Branch out, to greet the sun
The valleys, covered in rich lavender
The birds whistle, at beauty so fine
Dew hangs lazily, on moistened leaves
Glistening, in the early morning sun
From caterpillar, to butterfly
Beautiful wings, soon decorate the sky
Spring has arrived
No longer the frosted earth
And chilling winds
Just the beautiful tranquillity
Of nature's rebirth

by Jemia

She keeps reading my poem
The first time I shared with her
The moment I wrote all about her
She keeps reading all the feelings
The words that poured on paper
The ink that fell and couldn't be erased forever
She keeps reading my poem right now
Like the night sky that painted all of the stars there

i may not fall for you but
i'll warm the left side of your bed for a time,
soothe the storm

Once a breath is given
it is celebrated

Once a breath is taken
it is mourned

However, the time between the first and the last
is nothing at all


looked at with pride or greed
some sorrow and pain

each making history is someone's life

Yet here we sit
reading words
feeling another's emotion

but what if
this flood of words



just


stopped?

VI of Cups
Connection to the past

There is a generosity in your eyes
You give what can't be given
To heal the past, to heal your friends
A childlike innocence keeps you driven

Before it heals, it haunts you
Your life is stiff and without play
To forget you must forgive
I feel nostalgia for today

...the meadow and the puddle
you wouldn't come out of

wild and simple joy

invisable to eyes, now...

I wander the meadow grass

the fields where the flowers glow
in early morning
sunlight

the fields you
only dream of
where your soul is always free...

and you come running

spectral through the mist

I walk lonely fields

Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

It hurt her so badly
Yet, it didn't stop her
from moving forward

He asked her what it's like living with anxiety.

She smiled sadly, "It's a never-ending pulse-race. Like knowing you don't want to jump off a cliff but not being able to talk yourself down from it.

Your fears take on a nebulous, unidentifiable form that tightens around your throat and incapacitates you.

There is no calm. No peace. Only the edge of a very strained thread."

Brain, brain go away
Don't want to listen one more day
Already lonely and afraid
Feel insecure and full of shame

Brain, brain don't act this way
You're always angry; Filled with hate
You know we're joined; Can't separate
Yourself your punching in the face

Brain, brain what can I say
To make it so you see things straight
Don't know how much more I can take
Of constant warring and debate

Brain, brain it's getting late
This journey's not some endless race
Life's flying by and at this pace
Forget a win; Not gonna place

Brain, brain let's medicate
I'll feed you drugs and we'll sedate
The only way to mitigate
Discrepancies we generate

Brain, brain we sadly waste
This outcome feels like it was fate
But never was there a sealed date
Fulfilling what we self-create

Brain, brain so much we faced
Success so close could almost taste
Instead our tail we always chased
We'll die alone sad and disgraced

I know how you feel
I feel exactly the
same

I woke up from a nightmare
I could not stand to keep
to myself

you were stretched across the couch
coffee going cold on the table
a half finished cigarette
still burning

you wrapped me up
in kind words that
I could not bare
to hear

whispered into my ear
"one day we will go wandering
and this tiny house will overspill
with dreams'

you are not your memories, darling
you are not the bad things
that have been done to you
you are a fierce flame
that warms my heart

forget them, my love
they are nothing
and you, and you
are everything

I write about love & life
while others live & love

I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.

I was there

here I am now

nothing has changed

no 'somehow'



but the heart's purity

to which I bow

love draws us closer

l'll never let you down

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

no one loves me
but they claim they care
if they really did wouldn't they see

i am falling apart
fragile to the touch
yet they keep on pushing me

closer to the edge
and they think i can take more
so they push farther till i'm at the brink

it's like they know i can't swim
but they are going overboard
and they'll be suprised when i sink

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

lights flicker
in the distance
far far below

I’m here
looking down on it all
wrapped in a blanket
a book lies next to me
pages flipping themselves
in the cool summer breeze
inside are the sounds of life
outside are the sounds
of the questioning
the air is filled
with random notes
fluttering around me
like guardian angels
I know why they’re here

darkness
sat down
next to me
to keep me company
we look at the flickering lights
in the distance
he tells me
you’d do fine down there
if you wanted to
be a light
surrounded by light
but then he shifts his gaze
the moonlight
dancing through his being
but you’d do great
up there
be a light
where no one has dared to be
and with that
he left

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

are straight
as a geometric line.
A curling rod wouldn’t
lift them.  I sift through
the day as flour in a sieve,
with lumps on top -
It's no way to live.

My lips
are stuck
together
as the valves in a clam.
I don’t talk to people.
It's the way I am.

My lips
are pale
as the cold winter's moon. I color
them red with thick cream. But it
smudges as fudge and sticks
to my dreams.

My lips
are cracked
as drywall spackle
slapped on the wall. I look
as a clown in view
of them all.

A once dear friend
And I met up;
Twenty years since we spoke,
And neither one could talk.
We left each other's company
On terms of disagreement.
The ice was thick;
The air was clouded;
We stood beneath the shade.
The mountain didn't fall;
The earth didn't swallow;
The roof stayed on.
Nothing cracked our uncertainty.
Then we misquoted some old
Misunderstood memories
Of why we went our ways.
We felt the same.

we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections