Deborah Downes: Favorites

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

Time loops

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

Aeerdna

Trapped in a time loop
where all that happens is you
coming to me, kissing my feelings with your smile,
then crashing me
and leaving me there
with my naked hopes
hiding in the deepest grounds of my heart
again and again.

I am the prisoner of my own deathly wishes,
of the same repeating illusions,
and your voice in my head
is singing the same song on repeat
like a broken cassette
stuck in this old, rusty radio that is my mind.

I am trapped in a time loop
and all I do
is getting lost
somewhere on the paths of your soul
where my dreams get born
just so they can go to die.

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

Such Stuff

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

Polar

Such Stuff

We start from nothing
And spring from dreams
Reaching through dimensions
And time.
I stand like a rock
Rooted to the earth beneath my feet
Know this place
Own this space
Whilst possessing nothing at all
Still I fly
Pondering reality
Dreaming with clarity
Knowing only
Love survives all.

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

My Father's Daughter

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

L B

My Father's Daughter

I stood in the February snow
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury

My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me

So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing

I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week

Thank you everyone for the views and comments.  The Daily was a nice surprise this evening.

There were five of us kids.  I was the only one who ever did anything like this.  It was like my father needed someone to stop him sometimes.

My father asked, "What are you doing out here?"
I lied,  "Getting some air."

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1801472/the-mayor-of-wesson-street/

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

weeds

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

Joel M Frye

weeds

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.

The beauty of your words takes my breath away some days. Thank you.

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

Alcoholism

Mar 2017 Deborah Downes

Willow-Anne

Alcoholism

She’s more fun when she is drunk
At least…until she’s not
Because she’s puking in the toilet
And regretting her last shot

She’s more confident when she’s drunk
Gorgeous and ready to score
Until she looks in a mirror
And feels even uglier than before

She likes herself more when she is drunk
Until that feeling goes away
When she is so far beyond gone
That her self-hatred comes out to play

She’s happier when she’s drunk
All her issues leave her brain
But they all come crashing back at once
And cause her so much pain

She likes the world more when drunk
It’s filled with so much good
Until one little thing sets her off
And she hates it all more than she should

She likes life more when she’s drunk
Her mind for once feels still
Terrified of losing that feeling
She soon wants to end things with a pill

But she can stop any time she wants
Or so she’d have you believe
Because alcohol makes her seem so happy
That is, until all her friends leave

Edit: (3/10/17) Oh my goodness! I haven't logged on in a couple of days and boy did I miss a lot!
I am doing my best to respond to all your messages and comments now! Sorry for the wait!
Thank you all so much for such an overwhelming amount of love and support <3 You guys are amazing
For those of you who struggle with addiction of any kind, hang in there, and I hope you all find the help and support you need <3
Best wishes to you all. And thank you again <3

Edit: (3/11/17)
Alrighty, so I just got a very long message that without going too into details accused me of poking fun at alcoholism with this poem. I would just like to be very clear that this poem was in no way inteaded to make fun of the illness that is alcoholism, and if it came off that way to anyone else, I am truely truely sorry. Words can not express that enough for I very much wished the opposite intent. Alcoholism (and addiction in general) is a very serious illness that I take very seriously. I sinceraly hope that anyone who is struggling with it gets the help they need and those of you who are in recovery, I am proud of you. Stay strong and continue to work towards it <3
Once again, my sincere apologies again to anyone who was offended.
Love to you all <3 - Willow-Anne

Feb 2017 Deborah Downes

a flea on her back

Feb 2017 Deborah Downes

wordvango

a flea on her back

I
wonder wither why the whipporwhill
whines
a plaintive cry
and the robin shrills
her calling a mate
the daffodil does not make a sound
the rose just stands beautiful
wiregrass grows so bountiful
and corn is hard to make
the season's make a mockery of spring and fall
and winter has become a memory
where tall trees stood proud
and now a thicket
grows of thorns of nettles
I think
of nature
in her way
genius considerate
and man
as a tick a flea
on her back
a bloodsucking
leach

Feb 2017 Deborah Downes

make a new majesty

Feb 2017 Deborah Downes

wordvango

make a new majesty

every saying metaphor simile
has a poet behind it
every sunset tree mountain
love nest in the trees
too
the curtains of nightfall with
the holes peeping starlights are too
draped by wordsworths
and Michelangelo's of
phrase
every david standing as the
monument of man's glory
every Statue of Liberty every gleaming tower
has one man who cared about his task
enough to make a monument
to us all
just read just glory
in our accomplishments
sing along with the chorus
make a new majesty