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Joanne D Oct 2012
The intoxicating smell of cigarettes
Electric sounds of your fingers against the guitar
Looking into the glass in my hands
The swirling liquid like golden lights on a dark night
Words & giggles, laughter and silliness
This isn't me, not what I do
Good Sense, to thee I bid adieu
Take another sip to wash away any regrets

Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight
Looking up at the sky wistfully
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Oh please, make my wish come true tonight
Light breeze, curtain aflutter
I gaze out the window, singing to myself
Sometimes wishes made upon a star
Do see the light of day

Dream or drunken mistake or worse, neither
Now, awake and aware, befriending Nonchalance
Unwinding, like a stuck cassette,
Dim and hazy, that night I cannot forget
Detailed and clear – the memory
I just don’t want to forget
But that's all it'll remain
It'll be a secret, between Silence and I
Joanne D Jul 2012
Golden is the colour of the night bathed in lights
Of the dark tarmac shining under headlights
Golden is the dream I dream of you in the darkest of nights
Of your smooth words whispered in my ears before far "Goodnights"

Golden is the last intoxicating, swirling sip on my fingertip
Golden the warmth that spreads to every end, every tip
Golden, the liquid luck that gives my heart fillip
Golden, even the white lies that spill from your lip

Golden is the carpet in which I curl my toes
Golden the courage that fills me as I reach up to you on tiptoes
Golden butterflies aflutter within me as you bend low
Golden the soulful strains of a song so slow

Golden the starlight from the star I wished upon
Golden the face of the curious moon trying to catch on
Golden the binds of the curtain that unfurl
Keeping our secret safe.
Joanne D Jul 2012
Unruly hair
Unblemished skin
Untouched by the world
Bathed in innocence
The morning dew is her companion,
The flowers are her confidants...
She uses the sky as her canvass
To carve shapes with a sprig of grass...

Brilliant eyes
Beautiful lips
Blossoming youth
Learning, feeling, sensing.
The rising moon is her guide,
The setting sun is her secret-keeper...
As she reaches for his hand,
In a starlight symphony as fireflies strike a band...

Withered limbs
Weathered face
Wounded heart
Awaiting autumn...
The darkest night brings hope,
But every dawn brings fear of another lonely dusk...
As she stares at the garden, her youth's spirit-
And makes wishes of eyelashes longing for another visit.
Joanne D Mar 2012
Shuttling through
darkness
no light at the end of this tunnel
yet
hurtling past destinations
blurred images of the past
Destined to be left behind

Unknown faces stare out
and when the train slows
they come knocking at the window
a flicker of recognition dawns
looking into their eyes,
reflections of the persons they were once
shadows of old friends

Familiar places
stop by her door
garishly lit
meant to be inviting
but only serving to highlight
the messy roads
littered with rags of ragged memories

Surrendering to
the warm web of words
from the unturned page of the novel
and woven from strains
of a melancholy song
tired of singing its happy tune
over and over again

Not alone in her journey
but surely lonely
distracted by a fancy story telling
lost in the same singular song
creating a cocoon
a safe soundless haven
body heading home
mind escaping to a fantasy

Tomorrow is different
waking up from an unreal reality
to life
that rarely travels in a line
she will try to move off the beaten track
but she will soon make her way back
on life's circular track
this time she may wave back at the staring faces in the window

— The End —