I should never have left our apartment
But the courage in your words left me no choice
I watched your face trying to ignore what you said
It all came from a place deeper than your voice

At first I thought it was just a warning
But then you told me I didn’t get it
That’s when I knew that it was real
And now I know that you really meant it

When you find a feather
You know it’s a part of something greater
What flew away once landed at my window
You knew that love for me would never be the same
And now that you have taken flight
How else would I know that you were right

I wish we had been born long ago
Quiet evenings walking a path of leaves
It could be that time has not long enough passed
This the night air told me true love believes

I can see what it means to you
To live a life knowing of a happy end
And as the camera slowly recedes
The movie we made is now a memory
But though I know what is true, still
You play a game of forget and pretend

When you find a feather
You know it’s a part of something greater
What flew away once landed at my window
You knew that love for me would never be the same
And now that you have taken flight
I must live knowing that you were right

No Connection With Numbers

I have no connection with numbers.
Sixty-five or fifty-five, seventy, and suddenly
A person’s dead
And I am swayed
To thinking , “Gee, she was too young to pass,
At least these days”.
Lost track of what should, should not be,
It being all the same to me.
As teen, numbers relevant,
Forty ancient,
Frames of reference clear and few.

Digits now,
Are passcodes, pin codes, bank-cards, passcards.
As for age: eighty’s  the new forty, forty twenty;
Size eighteen is now size fourteen, thirteen now size zero;
Uni- multi- verses more and many; numbers leer,
And so unclear
That only new words suit.

Still unconnected and to boot,
It doesn’t matter – not to me, in any case.
I’m free, unfettered by the race, the chase.
In fact, it is a grace I [almost] note.
Glad I can vote,
De-vote my time to stumbling through
Without connecting numbers to
A thing
(except perhaps those few
I mentioned.)
Poems start out with one intention,
End up, well,
A tolling bell,
Telling all and nothing,
Ring! Ring!

No Connection With Numbers 6.10.2016
Numbers Book; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;
Arlene Corwin

The sky is so blue and colourful,
As if it is the pure sky in the universe,
With so many stars shining bright like
an diamond in the universe.

Looking at the sky is so blue without,
So many colours to look at,
Wondering why sky called blue sky?
Because it is blue everywhere in the
Universe.

How could the sky be so blueful?
When there is more colours in the
Universe.

              By k-mari ©2016

In the night I go to places  
my day self fears to tread,
Where secret aches and longings claim
their space inside my head.

Too easily I lose the fight  
Give up my self control,
Yield reason, faith and innocence
to yearnings of my soul.

In the night I steal past conscience  
to find my terror tree,
Pick a poisonous fruit that tastes
like life and death to me.

My closed eyes are forced to take in    
all that I fear to see,
I’m drowning, bleeding, burning the
frail bones of inner me.

The spell breaks when I awaken
fractured or still the same,
My mind revealing or hiding
what I can’t bear to name.