The day innocence disappeared
As life was created down by the sleepy hollow
The days of great sayings
Children bringing up children
We did okay for a time
Sadly maturity does what it always does
Brings new horizons
Sets new goals
We were okay about it
Others weren’t
Maybe they couldn’t see beyond the hill
Time moved on, and the bond was broken
Years later, you found your soulmate
A second child was born
I found out later, a girl
I was leading my life
So in a way, it wasn’t my business
Just made it more final  in a way
I agreed you should take full custody
It was the right thing to do
Upset some
But it was always me and you
I passed by the sleepy hollow
Maybe just to understand
It was wild and overgrowing
Pushing further to the road
Someday it would reach beyond the hill
Never looking back
I would be waiting.

Many, many years ago
When the earth was new
There lived a lovely butterfly
Her wings of brightest blue
Everyday was happy
As she fluttered all around
Visiting each precious bloom
Each garden they were found

Till one day by courier
A message she received
The news was far from happy
The words caused her to grieve
Her mate was lost in battle
It broke her fragile heart
Never more would there be joy
Her world was torn apart

To show her grief she slowly
Removed her precious wings
Discarded everything she loved
The memories they bring
Then wrapped about her body
In a way to show her grief
A drab cocoon of teardrops
Then sat in disbelief

She could not eat, could not sleep
Her sadness did abound
So worried was her family
They often came around
Not to be a burden
She packed her simple things
Rolled them in a bundle
As well, her precious wings

She took off on a journey
As every day was kept
A map of where she traveled
By every tear she wept
The sadness so consuming
Her head she held so low
Downcast eyes the path she took
A heart that’s beating slow

Crossing creeks and valleys
What ever she did meet
Touching each and every stone
Beneath her tiny feet
Around the world she traveled
Her journeys filled in length
For many days and many months
Running short of strength

About to end the story
Her broken heart near death
She prayed for time to hurry
Her last and final breath
For love had left her being
Wandering alone
That day her mate did breathe no more
The message she was shown

When seemingly from nowhere
A beauty sharp and sweet
A stone now lay upon the ground
Below these tired feet
Though different was this relic
Such beauty not concealed
The loveliness this stone possessed
Her sorrow slowly healed

It lay as a reminder
That ugliness might play
But found within this sorrow
Some beauty was displayed
And then her eyes did open
The perfect shade of brown
When then she noticed wonders
Were waiting to be found

Like diamonds in the river
A perfect flower’s bloom
So happy had she now become
She cast off her cocoon
Shook the dust from on her wings
The brightest color blue
Put them on and offered thanks
This chance at life anew

She danced the dance of butterflies
And spread her story wide
To family and friends alike
The truth she did confide
In loss there will be sorrow
But life is just a time
Remember but the good you had
And you will be just fine

In everything is beauty
All that you will see
Whether in the rising sun
Or stones beneath your feet
Always find the goodness
It lies before you eyes
I promise you’ll find happiness
When you realize

So dance with me this morning
Spread your fancy wings
Follow me this summer’s eve
And see the joy it brings
If ever you feel sorrow
Don’t forget the chance
Gives thanks to all the good you have
And let your spirit dance

thinking back
to the so many versions of me
my younger selves
would they be afraid of me now
would they wonder what had happened
what would they think of the scars
on my left arm and shoulder
deep enough that the slices didn’t bleed
right away but slowly filled up and spilled over
and the metal in my face
the dark purple hollows under my eyes
and the sneer on my lips
the bitten skin and the splits that
tear and sting whenever i speak
would they try to stop the shaking of my hands
wrap duct tape around my dull fingertips
so that i will at least be able to salvage some nail
and what would they think
when i told them about the time that
i bruised my knuckles against my
own skull
trying to get the voices to shut up
but all i got was a headache
and fingers that hurt when i unclenched them
would they try to massage a feeling that
wasn’t pain back into my jaw
or would they stay away
because i can be scary
i guess
and my anger and depression
has become a palpable thing
but i don’t mean it to be
i would peel away my walls
of barbed wire and broken promises and hearts
and i would bare it all for them
i really would
because i want to show them
that i am still here
i am still going
i still wake up every morning
and even on days when i have to force myself
to go through the motions
i still do it
for them
for my past selves
and my future selves
but without my past selves
the younger versions of me
with their clothes smelling of ****
and alcohol and so many days of dried blood
i would not have made it
and god i am so sorry i tried to destroy them
but i promise i will keep them safe now
lock them up in a box inside myself
nothing will hurt them anymore
i will be who they needed
way back when
and i will do my best
to keep on going
even though it hurts
more often than not
i will keep going
i promise i will
i will make you proud
you of the skinned knees
and untied shoes
the barefoot romps
through grassy fields
and the first time someone else made your nose bleed
i will be there
i will make you proud
i promise
and maybe when we meet again someday
you will come closer
and you will not be afraid of
what you have become

I'm so tired
but you won't let me sleep
anxiety...

you are my constant companion
you've protected me
showed me the truth

you've lied to me
we've lost friends
and even Family for awhile
you always leave me wondering
about everything and everyone

I can't trust myself
I can't trust you
I can't trust them

The only thing I can do
is to accept things the way they are
trust in something bigger
turn it over

Try to be in the moment
and not back look at yesterday
It wouldn't do me any good anyway
Im trying not to look forward too much toward tomorrow
Try to hold it together
you're really racking my nerves
I wouldn't want to ever have a nervous break
                ......down
I wouldn't want you to get back together with depression
The two of you together are nothing but trouble

I hear there's a pill that can make you go away
but really there's no such thing as selectivity dulling emotions
And who's to say anyway
this isn't supposed to be a part of who I am?

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.

his writing caught everyone’s attention
like an artist i once saw on the street in québec
he stood out amongst the crowd in montréal
i asked to take his picture
he obliged

this writer is also canadian
and paints masterpieces
with words

his colorful lines sometimes float on jagged edges
brushes of sticky sugar coating are exchanged
for starker strokes of reality
tinged with weathered wisdom
creating shadows in his work
accentuating the light

there’s not a write of his
that does not stir emotions
his words linger
rolling around in your head
bumping into each other
morphing into new connotations
his easel alive

you wonder if he did that on purpose?
could anyone have that kind of talent?
yes…..his brush continues flowing
even after the paint is dry

suddenly at midnight i awaken
and hear another morsel
a word, a phrase, a color
that only made itself known
in the dark of night

understanding he's a favorite
i imagined audibly hearing a collective sigh
when he contracted cancer
would he now leave his canvas dry?

no, this courageous artist
bravely took his palette
and continued painting
his words that us awaken
now e’vn more radiant
with tragedy astride

and ‘tho he talks of dying
i pray that he will stay
but should his spirit fly
we have seen a master show us
how to walk into the light

©2016janetaylor

There's no necessity tor crying,
                    endless tears that
                     drop like mighty rain.
I have already passed the point
                     of existing in harmony
                     with the circle of health.
Better to cross over to the real world.
Leave the wringing of hands
                    to those who need to
                     advertise their melancholy.

Church bells ring, ponderous sounds
                      that champion the living
                       fabric of Holy Mother Church.
The true faith that guides its citizens
                   through the mess of the earth.
I celebrate with prayer.
I welcome the protection
                of God in His ongoing love.

Crying does not   revive the dead,
              or bring solace to the dying.

Endless cups of wishes filled with
                littered drops of gratitude.
Never ending liquids that wet the
                dirt roads of ongoing traffic.

Follow me to my resting place.
Drop a flower on the ground.

If you must, cry.
Do so knowing
            that the tears
                are wasting
                  away and help
                        only the survivors.