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Jul 2015 · 662
Winter Peaches
Sherry Asbury Jul 2015
A penance of fruit flies
races me to the lug of peaches.
where steaming jars wait for
the suppers of a winter not yet
more than a vague chill
beneath a sweater left unbuttoned.
A short poem that came to mind when I thought back to my days of canning.
Jul 2015 · 616
Old Woman, Dancing
Sherry Asbury Jul 2015
Crabbed old feet - imprisoned
in shoes too small, too *****
and too red.
A bit of music escapes
from some trendy café,
she dances in the wailing cold.
She remembers when
she was pretty.
She remembers being young.

Now a ***** wall
of fears drifts as she finds
her old age has begun.

She is worn down, worn out
by the pain every old woman knows.
The laughing mouth of the grave
waits to welcome her home.
This from a series of poems about old women finding their place in the world as they fade.
Jun 2015 · 396
Flood
Sherry Asbury Jun 2015
Most days I do not give it
room in my head, ignorance
makes things easier, momentarily.
It is in the absence of distraction,
when all is quiet and still
that it floods my being, my soul,
and sends cold shivers down my
spine...  I have so few years left
to me.
I have spent the others like pennies
found in my pockets, not cherished
or beloved.
Now they trickle away, leaving
me more barren than before.
Jun 2015 · 348
The Brink
Sherry Asbury Jun 2015
There is nothing that to this world I would add...
but with the power to destroy I would rise up
to rid this earth of housing tracts that voraciously
eat the earth...chewing up all open space.
Squatting there, rotting, no pride of ownership.
And those low income housing high rises, where
curl the humans that have no hope, but great hate
born of their environment and lack of education.
This world rumbles with government wrongs,
users and cheaters **** and trample the souls
of the poor...line their pockets with misplaced funds.
These things I would destroy, allowing the land
to a green place, where gardens would flourish -
and people would share equally, and at last
smile and be at peace.
Jun 2015 · 300
Books
Sherry Asbury Jun 2015
I am not speaking for others, but for myself
when I want to escape, I take a book off my shelf.
Engrossed in its pages, captured by its tale,
I can be a princess grand or on a ship a-sail.

Walls no longer form my boundaries..
inside a book I can be just who and what I please.
Boredom does not live there, fingers do not drum,
as I listen to bird wings beat or hear a guitar strum.

This world sometimes fails to be a very nice place,
but one can always find a book about a special place.
Or we can learn about those who have gone before,
perhaps setting foot on a moon-flung shore.

A book is a special friend who welcomes us inside,
offering an adventure or just a place to hide.
Books take us away from the mundane and ordinary
as they open up and share with us their story.
Jun 2015 · 582
Bowels of the Kingdom
Sherry Asbury Jun 2015
Slowly around me senses slip away.
One by one they succumb to the fates.
Self-hatred has engulfed me at last,
beyond my capability to care.
I loose my bowels into the nothingness
that soon will become the kingdom
where my feces-encrusted corpse
will slowly rot - releasing my responsibility.
Jun 2015 · 625
Bowels of the Kingdom
Sherry Asbury Jun 2015
Slowly around me senses slip away.
One by one they succumb to the fates.
Self-hatred has engulfed me at last,
beyond my capability to care.
I loose my bowels into the nothingness
that soon will become the kingdom
where my feces-encrusted corpse
will slowly rot - releasing my responsibility.
Jun 2015 · 425
Bloodsucker
Sherry Asbury Jun 2015
He walks the streets and haunts the clubs.
He is a vampire on the prowl for prey.
This bloodsucker can face the sun
and prowl during the light of the day.

What he does is prey on the lonely and weak.
Homely women, lonely woman seeking love.
He is a sociopath, a psychopath with no
conscience or need to look to heaven above.

He hurts, he cheats, he cons, he steals...
with his charming face and phony smile...
Does not even realize his evil...
thinks women should succumb to his style.

He leaves them drained of worse than blood,
he ***** away their precious hopes and dreams.
Leaves them dead and dying when he through,
and only their mirrors hear their screams.

— The End —