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Like the mist before dawn,
You exist in my memory
As something seen
But never grasped.
 Feb 2018 Nancy E Tracy
ryn
When words form
but the voice is muted,
strings of sentences -
like loose lengths of yarn,
just swimming...
swirling in the currents
of the wash.

They meet,
they connect,
they get tangled up
with each other.

What had before made sense
now swells larger,
more intricate,
more tiresome.

It all converges
into a ******
as the spin cycle ends.

What’ll emerge
is a convoluted mess.



I’m a mess.

And then,
I get hung out to dry.
The hollow wind funneled the voice
of the distant night-train crossings,
awakening  a  familiar  silence
hanging from the vast wilderness sky
A restless heart hearkening the echoes,
imagining  a  runaway  Pullman
flew away off the rails,    airborne
on the winged wind headed north

Winter  pausing  for a moment
in  the  shadows  of  familiarity,
as if parsing the unspoken breathings
in an  echoless  surrendered sigh;
uncertain if tacit words set free
could ever allow a heart broken
        to feel whole again

There  is  no  absolving  voice
that whispers in a solemner tone :
        Death  has  no  mercy  ―  
love remains marooned in the wake ,..
and it feels like the world’s gone mad
letting time be the arbiter of perpetuity

The fading dream of a motherless child;
a wish to be held maternally
fell to the ground with a thud,
        breaking the silence,
dissipating formless as the shape of water

Muted cold lips so full of questions
morphing into fugitive sighs
come the unsettled night;
when shadows disappear like frail memories
that  passed  too  soon  to  grasp,
thickly palpable as the warm breath
a winter bird alone on frosty branch

There’s no fear in braving the darkness
in the  winter wilderness of life borne alone
There’s no way of knowing what you’ll find
down that long empty road back home
Life just flashes by silently before your eyes
        through the windshield
    of countless miles and miles

And there’s nothing you can do about it ―
It’s like hearing the moment of truth in a lie
when all I was looking for
was  how I got here in this now,.. yesterday

only finding a hopeless poet
scribbling  slightly stained pages,
spilling  a  bitter  sweet  dream ...


        harlon rivers ... February 2018


///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
1st night back home:  the end of a 2400 mile road-trip

I know I can't catch up here, all anyone can do is start again..

I've heard it said: "starting with the ending is the best place to begin."

Thanks for reading !!!
Perhaps my expectations for you
are impossible.
Perhaps you are blind to the desire
in my eye.
Maybe you are deaf to the disappointment
in my sigh.
Maybe your budget isn't
so suasible.

If you would read my body,
Look into my mind,
We would be great
And all would be fine.
Though it probably should be,
It just isn't enough
To say that you're mine,
I need material stuff.

Roses of red,
No,
I prefer blue.

And the finest of chocolate,
A large teddy bear, too.

Shower me with the money you've spent,
It's not a big deal,
Only a present.

I promise not to be greedy,
Or selfish,
Or stale.

I won't raise my expectations even further on the scale.

But you must keep me happy,
Satisfied in every way.
You can't do that for me?

Well what else can I say...

I promise I loved you,
In good times and bad.
And I will always reminisce
The times that we've had.

Oh, I will miss you.
I promise, I will.
But your wallet has emptied.
And my love has gone still.
Valentines Day with a Gold Digger.
 Feb 2018 Nancy E Tracy
Traveler
It is but a blurry spot
Off to the side on my being
All that hell that your not seeing
It’s there in a hunk of tired flesh
Grey matter of all I am left
Lesions worn in harder times
I have strayed in shadows
And cross the lines
Of no return
No recovering
From the blurs
Eternity hovering

Causing me
To be thankful
To be Alive!
Traveler Tim
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