Make way for today
Love is in the air
All of a sudden everyone cares
Do it right all year
Don't stress today
You'll find true love one day
Don't feel like a reject
All year long you neglect and reject others
Today you realize your alone
Respect and trust before giving love
Your special in someone's eyes they haven't open them on you
Love yourself eventually someone else
Your day v-day

Sometimes when ev'ning lamps are ebbing low
And all the earth lies hushed in solemn sleep
Within my lonely heart there burns a glow,
As lengthening shadows about me creep.

My weary glance falls o'er the dismal room
Where with rapturous eyes I seem to see
Beyond thick cobwebs, dust and direst gloom
A merry host of friends-my own library!

Worn musty books on shelves from olden days,
Brittle pages yellowed by hands of time,
Illuminating night with gladsome rays,
Lifting my bleak spirit to realms sublime.

Trooping merrily before my rapt gaze
Into flick'ring lamplight I watch them come,
Quaint men and ladies of forgotten days;
Golden laughter echoing in my home.

Into my eyes they smile, murm'ring with grace
Aerial speech they blithely chat with me,
They seem to belong to another race
Wakening in my heart sweet melody.

Dying lamplight sputters and they are gone.
Vanished! I stare about but find I none
Save a drowsy thrush flutes with hush of dawn
Only myself in the parlour alone.

~Hilda~

hellopoetry.com is down

and i have so much to tell you
of love, of flight, of feeling sure
1984's so right
i thought, the certain age of five

we danced beneath the sprinklers
rotated likewise on the grass
my paper hat fell off
the fences of our old backyard far stronger
than any castle walls

dad at the brick barbecue he built
mum at the back door, smiling
cake and candles,
being lifted up,
a moat of inevitable sunshine.

This poem is going to be a lie
He tells himself
Writhing in tantalizing filaments
The bright asphyxiation drawing him closer and closer
To this
An ideal
Of the perfect truth
Told out in unwritten song
Painfully typed words
A clever shower of meteors
Belittling the dangerous craters on the surface
The danger of tripping and dying
Not withstanding what we know to be
A falicy
My multilingual interpretation of her feelings
Old testimonies heard in the court
Of the already guilty
This poem is a complete distortion of facts
My trivial response to empowered individuals
Standing on my Adam's Apple
And beating on my lungs like drums
Rhythm meaning honor
And the attention of the onlookers meaning
The inviting glow
Of the fireplace.
She sat down next to
That night
That town
That unfamiliar castigating of a child not belonging to
You
Or her
Or the abyss
"Unbelonging"
"Inbelonging"
Not.  Yours.

The wordsmith falters
Checking his math
Calculation, equation, kiss on the cheek
For luck for death
For the noose to slip, lovingly
And gently to the ground as the trap door swings open
A great, open toothed smile
Laughing at silence
BARBARIC to interrupt such delicacy
Straining to look into my eyes
She whispers low
I want to find a home...
And i tell her, with my heaviest conviction
"No home is."
Which could mean anything.
This poem is a verisimilitude
A lie about a truth
Which, again...
Could mean anything...

There was a girl who walked

Down the trail

Every day with a boy.

This boy, he knew her

Like no one else could

And like no one else would.



This boy, he knew all her flaws,

All the suffering and darkness

That was her heart.

He knew the looming loss.

But he also knew her sunshine,

And so he walked with her.



Some days, she just couldn’t

Keep up the façade.

She pressed her face

Into his shoulder and cried,

“I don’t want to be lonely anymore.

I don’t want to be broken anymore.”



He didn’t try to fix her,

Because he knew

People are not fixable.

And anyways,

He loved her darkness

Just as he loved her light.



So, on they walked.

And she remained broken.

But her loneliness is starting to fade,

Because right now,

He is placing his hand into hers,

And pressing his lips to her ear



And he is whispering,

“You are broken,

But I love your scars.

You are lonely.

Let me fill your heart.”

And she let him.



And they walked on.

Menopause.
A time to pause
from a fascination
with men
and the grey flannel cologne left on my sweater after an embrace,
and how they don’t think about the same things,
and how their thighs feel in tight blue jeans.

It seems less important
as it once was,
and I begin to wonder
what it was that I just
had to have that man for,
that made me give up
my own judgment in order
to silence disagreement,
that made me think his desires
should count more than mine.

And I pause,
my body pauses,
from the cycle that has
run its course for 30-some years
and I look at who I am
and I know.
Now it is I know.