My heart is like the broken glass
               there lying on the floor
        It shattered a few thousand times
           behind quick slamming doors

                 The ****** shards
                   that lay unbroken
       are all of that's left of love unspoken
          To you I give this simple token
               a piece of me in ****** ink

      This piece of glass I entrust to thee
        This little glass it holds the key
       Beachy glass washed from a sea
         from my waiting ...wanting tears

              I've tried to love though
                       it's been vain
                   My heart is fragile...
                       single paned
          I'll try to love...again with you
          liquid sand from praying pew

        I know my heart's a fragile mess
          my love for you I must confess
         the edges sharp my hands caress
             to make us whole again

          An hourglass I'll shape in time
         and strip away the ****** grime
       My heart is here to love once more
     A green glass piece lost on your Shores

        I am here...if you decide to try
   rebuild this heart from tears it cries
        I wonder in its silence sighs
             In you I feel at home

      you know I'll hold your heart safe too
        curing resin my hands will glue
        repairs rebuilding love anew
      a fracture fixed by love that's true

       build a bond that won't be broken
                  a smooth soft heart
                       your loving token.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

I'll agree!
But I'm not camping 'neath a tree
I'm getting fit... I'm getting free
From habits that were hurting me
Now my weight loss all can see!

I'm not hiking through the woods
But i work out... it does me good!
I now cook nutritious food!
The labels are now understood!

I'm never tired. Never bored...
The future has so much in store!
I'm learning mindfulness and more
I was put here by the Lord

And now my life has been restored!


:D Catherine

My father died
from a gun shot wound
to the head

self-inflicted

Don't get all weird about it.

Fathers die
and their passing
though certain
is rarely easy.

So what can I say of this man
so many years
after his emphatic end?

I can say what Whitman said
of Lincoln:
"O Captain, my Captain.
Rise up and hear the bells."

But he will not.

He was ever-present
wise and alert
a boxer in life
a fighter in every way.

And I grew up with the gloves on
quick
elusive
and thanks to him
successful in every ring.  

He died
******* on a lit tobacco stick

Emphysema was gonna
take him down
so he pulled his own trigger
saved his family that way
though that's a longer tale

Therefore
and whereas
this is a belated requiem
for a man I loved.
My Captain.
Dear and departed
these many years
may he rest in peace
as he never rested
in life.

Slumping over their shopping carts
like porpoises on parade.
Baskets overflowing with
fritos, doritos, and sugar-ade.

Reckless the dream that changed
what they couldn't,
to swim through foil bars
soaring from cash to vein.
Girl with scissors, cutting hair,
to reach a new brain.

Sofa-living, so much thwarting
thoughts of inadequacy.
Streams of image, money
-- and American Honey,
I think you are fine
the way you hurt.

Dead names scarred onto the mouths of trees,
teenagers as stripped as the bark,
fenced by the flutter of the leaves.
I once loved a girl who loved
to remember the old me.

There's a storm, scurrying across the saffron.
You'd have to ask if this would always go on;
the broken hair, grape jaw, leaky gums.
An embrace, tortured knuckle,
all before the Sun, the bodies buckle.

Incurable beauty explained by the hunting game:
Is there a God who molds the fumes,
escaping from my brain?
I don't want to think, that all my thoughts
are all just the same.