Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2015 Wanderer
JWolfeB
This breathe and these lungs
Have been used to preach subjects I fully can't understand
Like existence, cats, and why yesterday feels like today
So I told a story about you
It reminded me of your nails
And the memories they held
Each time I try to write about you
my arthritis flares up
My lungs cringe
And my mind turns static
They say there are 5 steps of grieving
What about the 6th step?
The times where your body stops working
They never mentioned the part
Where you find her spirit in everything
The clouds began to shine your radiance
The wind smells like you
Tomorrow feels almost like home
We will never get the day you left back
I have been spending each moment
Elaborately searching for you everywhere
And I have found
You never left
My heart still speaks of your beauty
My laughter a sliver
These eyes glistening
To show the elation
You exhaled into my life
So don't let this be a poem about you
I am still unsure what that would look like
But for now, I wanted to say
I love you
 Oct 2015 Wanderer
David Crum
you never think things will sneak up on you like this, that your problems will become a monster and eat you.
i blame "fine"
we parrot that, even as kids - we are taught to be "fine" - not taught to be aware that something might be wrong; that might mean something happened - no, we bathe in and wrap ourselves in "im fine"
but the truth is, were not.
**we are not fine
I have an old guitar named Gypsy Queen.  Normally this would not be much of a momentous occasion, lots of people name their guitars,but Gypsy is hand made by me.  Many moons ago when my ex wife was pregnant with my only child, a daughter, I took an adult education night class while I was attending college as a day job.  Our instructor had recently taken a trip to Canada to buy wood as he made his living building custom guitars and he had some of the most beautiful birds eye maple I'd ever seen and also some very good spruce for the top of the guitar.  We met at the local high-school's woodshop classroom.  I knew all the power tools there having taken wood shop twice in middle school and again in high-school.  From raw lumber I fashioned her pieces, sides, three piece back, neck, keyboard (made from some exotic ebony my instructor had), and top.  While my wife was patiently waddling about the house I shaped and sanded those pieces on our living room floor.  The interior struts, the binding, and frets for the keyboard had to be created as well.  When I finally got her glued and assembled she was quite a sight, almost perfect in every way, and the quality wood she was made from was so beautiful I had never seen the likes of her before.  Most of the people in the class didn't get that far not having the skills with the tools or the coordination necessary to succeed.  Still she needed to be lacquered and finished.  All told, special tools and accouterments, cost of the wood, glue and sandpaper, plus the frets (nickeled silver), and the grover tuning pegs she cost me about $160.  But almost 500hrs labor went into her creation, whole free weekends spent sanding and shaping.  It was a year or more before I finally got her lacquered and she was so beautiful I could scarce believe I had made her, totally from scratch.  I had even inlaid her mother of pearl keyboard art, god she was a sight.  Both she, and my daughter, are now close to 40 years old, and she still plays like a champ.  Ask any guitarist about guitars they use a lot, see how many survive that long.  She's my prized possession to this day.  Her custom bridge is shaped like a bird (something I've never seen to this day anywhere else) and I'd put her sound up against any expensive Martin made.  Plus she is so much prettier.  She's old and her finish is crackled some but her neck is still true and her action is superb.  Through the years she has brought me so much joy, I'm so glad I took that class.  I hope she survives till I die cause I want to mix her ashes with mine before they get spread around by my friends.  I'll want something to play in the afterlife.
Gypsy Queen my friend who knew I was such a good Luthier.  Beginners Luck!!!!
http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x370/toreinss/IMG_0324.jpg
You may find this funny but I once had a dream about pay toilets. I walked up, handed my root clod to God, the door came open and then closed behind me. I sat down and began to read the graffiti; "Em all" said one and "Maelstrom chronicles" another, "Introspect the bottomless key" and "Will this all come up again tomorrow?" This last was written on the handle which when depressed revealed another little sign which said "NO!"

"Thank you God" I said as I left the stall. "Your welcome Buckwheat" he replied. The words echoed.

As I was waking from this dream I found myself wondering whether it was a reminiscent image of the midnight diaper change or the real thing. Maybe I'll be more like the trees tomorrow and live on sunlight I pondered. Just then I heard my mother's kind voice. "Time to wake up" she said. "I'm already awake" I said as I got out of bed.
 Oct 2015 Wanderer
Holly Nicole
I try not to remember
But my eyes are constantly drawn
To the photos.
Genuine smiles
A time of pure, innocent happiness
Now fostering a new feeling-
A sadness so addictive
I cannot look away

I can see the sparkle in your eyes
In each moment from the past
And I fear that sparkle
Will never be mine again.
I fear it may belong to another,
Or the freedom we felt
Will be surpassed by the freedom
Of yourself

I cannot look away
It’s an addictive sadness
 Oct 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
Stone
 Oct 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
My palms on your
*******. Yesterday.
Things felt good then;
Kinda like love.

It's also called
Yesterday.
Today, I'm a whispered
*******.

Today I'm heavy air.
Render me hobby.
I have fewer feelings
Than a stone.

That's what you loved
About me. What you
Wanted to
Change.
 Oct 2015 Wanderer
Xander King
I'm the black of the night sky and you are the stars.
Without me you wouldn't shine so bright,
But without you, oh I'd be so empty.
Next page