if only the characters
in the book could speak.
they have been morphed
into roles forced upon them.
attaching themselves to the reader
flipping through sheaves
of ivory paper and gold typesetting.
the characters waiting to open
the soft leather bound cover
giving them light and hope
they jump off the pages
with life breathed onto them
marching across the pages
giving a picture show
that which is expressed
as we cross through the lines.~~lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010

life comes in packages  
shop for favorite things
rain scented candles  
rose colored flowers to set on the table  
matching new lipstick
to pucker her lips
over her scrumptious dinner
talk about things to come

small packages so small
nothing fits but bare necessities
costing a penny to even get up
sacrifices made just staying put
the best to be had
a nudge from the cat
counting your blessings for
there are those less fortunate
deep down you know
that to be true.~~lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010

doesn't appear to be
functioning on a
normal level
think only on that
which becomes
your center
the grandfather clock
is chiming on the hour
at the end of the day
what do you mean
the end of the day
let alone what happened
during the course
of the day
these are the secrets
everybody has
actually they
can't be secrets
everybody is obsessed
with something
come hell or high tide
there is little
else in between.~~lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010

sorry doesn't cut it
alright, what i meant to say
i didn't mean any of it
it just came out that way
sorry is a word with memory
even if we are to
forgive and forget
then maybe sorry
never should have
been invented
it gets stuck
between forgive and forget
maybe if we can  
forget to forgive and
there was no word as sorry
we lived in a perfect world
that is not true either
we do need sorry
in an imperfect world
did i tell you i am sorry
sorry for what
sorry for everything.~~lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010

look at all the pretty horses
they go around and around
adorned with silk ribbons
in colors of the rainbow
weaved through their manes

their painted hooves
in gold leaf shimmer
careful not to touch the ground
riding up and down
in complete synergy
with the jeweled poles.

the children squealing with joy
who has the prettiest horse
couples in a world of their own
she sits delicately like a
lady riding sideways

the gent’s heart going pitter patter
looks questioningly into her
eyes that speak of mystery
is she the one who
will come back with his children
to ride the pretty horses
life goes around and around.

all the pretty horses have seen
the same story in a time capsule
but with different faces.
life is a merry go round
with its sparkling lights
shining upon the stage.~~lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010

the english tudor home
my face of who i
was suppose to become.

the chambermaid makes my bed
but dad, “i want to make my own bed”.
mother doesn’t understand

“i don’t know where this
child comes from but she isn’t mine”;
not to relish in the riches of glitz
and diamond chandeliers.

this is your life not mine
i am just a puppet of your image
it is not mine to own.

here little girl we give you
a pony, don’t you like that?
that maybe the only thing i like  
he is the only one who
knows what love is.

dinner is served madame.
i don’t want to sit in the
24 seated mahogany table
i want macaroni and cheese
i will eat in the kitchen.

oh GOD, why can’t i have
an ozzie and harriet home?
oh you will someday.

the some day is my new
name and face to own.
surely you can live like a
princess with humility  

wear love around like a
wreath of baby's breath
atop my head
not behind
a mask of a painted doll.~~lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010

who says i can't bow
to my FATHER who
art thou in heaven

when i write about
marmalade trees and
stargazing skies

he knows everything i
am going to write even
before i dip my quill pen
in ink to rice paper

would he rather see
a happy child playing
make believe with
her imaginary friend
eating candy apples

than see man worshiping
money for his own lust
manipulating with a
deck of black cards

FATHER who art thou
in heaven, maybe my
station in heaven will
be decorating your
mansions in homespun
ivory silk puffs
sit and watch the children play

we feast on fine wines
and fruits not yet known
we listen to the harp and
the flute while the
children do somersaults

FATHER who are thou in heaven
you gave us choices to rejoice
in colors, scents and sounds

or the man in the dark pin striped
suits manipulating humankind
with a full deck of black cards

i am just blessed
i can sit with you
by my side and write
about marmalade trees
and gold stardust skies.~~lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010