"abided" poems
I wear a shroud.
A shroud made of prescription slips.
A shroud of little orange bottles.
A shroud of oddly shaped pills, circles, ovals, capsules.
I wear this shroud to conceal my demon, my curse, and some say a blessing.
Without this cloak I'm a monster.
As a child I didn't have this cloak and I was seen as what I am, a monster.
Pointed at and whispered about.
Given sideway glances.
I was angry, angry at me for being me and others seeing me for being me.
This anger spread.
No longer directed at those who hurt me but abroad.
I was a child.
Mad at the world.
At age 5-7 I dawned my cloak.
At first it took getting used too.
I was told that I need fixing.
I was sent to a psychiatrist who taught me "How to be normal."
I abided my parents wishes and thought it was for the best.
I got older, and the cloak didn't work as well.
In middle school my cloak was transparent.
I had to deal with school now more than previously.
The stress wore my cloak thin and I was a ticking time bomb going off when something caught fire too close to me.
Then, after fights, meltdowns, tears, the tears of my parents, school stress, their stress things began to get better.
Things got better in school but not among people.
I still felt rejected, judged for my weirdness in the past.
Maybe it was guilt for the things I had done wrong.
Maybe fear, no it was fear.
Then I began to wonder.
I had asked myself this before but never paid much attention.
Was I afraid of what was under my cloak?
I was born without pills in my system.
The un medicated me is the real me.
I was never born with pills in my hand ready to be popped into my mouth.
But the real me scares people.
It scares me.
I twitch.
I fidget.
I can't sit still.
I look around all the time.
I get laughed at.
I get made fun of.
Or I did...Till I dawned my cloak....To hide from myself.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
*why do people always pain themselves to write as if they could ever be understood, when so few read them, and even a fewer number care to understand? and why do so many ably bodied ******* themselves with writing? why have they lost the taste for fresh air and instead chose a wheelchair that writing is?*
in legal terms - are you implying a play on synonyms or
just simply stating: d'uh, i don't know what
that means? ah, a limitation on the vocabulary,
an atypical symptom of lawyers - when socrates attacked
eloquence per se, he also defeated himself
by ensuring law abided by the law of highest eloquence,
and the rabble got diddly-squat, his attack on rhetoricians
lost the prowess of attracting debased educators
with himself the most debased educator:
and instead attracted lawyers... thus the law of the eloquent,
rather than the rubric of the least eloquent...
lost an eye for an eye, lost a mouth with it too...
i rather be fed eloquence and education
and coarseness to equally educate
than be fed a justice fed by eloquence alone,
because if this is to be the equilibrating case,
then serving justice will just be a case of speaking
in a satin tongue of readied rhetoric
as justice so called,
and when speaking in a coarse tongue
no justice will be made applicable...
i rather be educated by someone in a coarse tongue
than be brought to justice by someone in an eloquent tongue,
i rather not be educated by someone in an eloquent tongue /
i rather be brought to justice by someone in a coarse tongue
(the mob),
at least the coarse tongue is well equipped to
address the many who require educating,
unlike the eloquent tongue equipped to
address itself and itself alone, rather than addressing
the jury who blindly pass judgement, because
the lawyer's tongue is not in the mouth of the defendant
but in the lawyer's mirror of social strata of respectability
appearing so guiding, kindly tying a bow-tie of applause.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
Like two stars in the night sky
They are two glimmers on my heart
I hated to say goodbye
I miss them when we are apart
My love for them abided deeply
Now with them gone I miss them steeply
My love for them has and does not end
They are more than family and friend
Adopted, coalesced, part of my heart
You are not in my heart, you are my heart
I will care for you always
Love you forever
Remember you like sun rays
Always and ever
My little hearts
I hate to part
Loves of my life, little and dear
I'll always wish you to be here
I'll see you again
We will never end
Even in everafter
We will have our sweet laughter
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 9:56 PM UTC
I'm not too inclined to write.
Because my roots lie deep in soil
unmended
and highly offended by such
apathetic precipitation. Approximating that
any hint of hope
was barren.
So a love life-
one, call her wife.
She austerely abided by permanency
despite omnipresent strife.
There was simply no life.
Nothing.
Not an attempt to stick it out
past
imaginary doubt.
All when you were
all my life was about?
Days of
ferris wheels
and
tickled squeals
bring on such sweet strength.
But I can't say anything
blunted the light
more than your shadow.
I digress.
It's always been a battle
My blind past,
they say,
shows only decay.
If green is still visible,
on a day chemically dismal
remember
that still
I'm not inclined to write.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
. You do not know my name, or maybe you do. Either way, I do not know yours, too. I may have met you already. Maybe our shadows have already crossed. Maybe I know you so well, yet I have not a hint that it is you. You may be the person that sat beside me on the long, long 'couch' of a jeepney or that girl that dropped her hanky inside the bus on its aisle. You may be my classmate; my neighbor, perhaps. My friend. My friend's friend. Or the cousin of my friend's friend that once set my heart a galloping horse but I then realized - laughed at myself, even - that I was such a foolish dolt to feel that way and utterly air-headed to believe it, so I 'ended everything between us'.
I may have seen you already, taken a good look at your face - your eyes having no sparkles and the fireflies in my stomach asleep being the only difference. You may have liked me or even 'fell' for my stupid smile and I had no idea at all. So I apologize if my apathy made your heart numb or my blindness shattered you.
Away from these hundreds or maybe even thousands of possibilities and ineluctabilities; the chances of me already meeting you and not knowing that it was you; all I ask is your love abided by the love from the skies. Love, not affection nor attraction, nor any of the temporal abstracts. A four-letter piece-of-cake-to-spell word, yet too involuted to be brought to living definition. Love, my dear, and fidelity is what I ask.
I long to see you, know you. To be stifled by the fragrance of your hair, know the color of your eyes; to be deafened by your voice in its saccharinity, watch how those delicate eyelashes of yours lay gently on your cheeks as you close your eyes upon sleeping.
Life is a book wherein the plot depends on how the protagonist writes it. Tell me how many more pages would it take for me to get to our chapter 'cause darling, I swear I would skip even a hundred or two. If only I can, and if only you can. But apparently, I'm stuck in this chapter called 'present'.
**Sincerely,
Your present Future**
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
i want to climb a mountain,
i want to look upon the earth
from a different perspective.
to feel my feet flee from under me,
and to fall -
slip -
into a lucid madness.
i want to feel no fetter
as my body folds upon itself -
twisting free -
as the ground approaches me.
as the . . .
as the sum of existence comes to a point.
to be young and alone,
and your ears just wanna ring
and your eyes just wanna close,
to be young and alone
with no girl for the night.
(born in the wrong place
and at the wrong time)
it was in that one moment
that i was the
perfect level of righteous.
it was in that moment
that my vision
found a point of fixation.
it was in that moment,
when our eyes met -
when i was blinded by radiance -
that i heard myself whisper
' please destroy me. '
these thoughts travel upon
tracks derailed;
awaiting annulment,
awaiting loss,
awaiting rebirth -
awaiting eventual awakening.
"betray your gods
before they betray you,
before they deny you
your Soul."
(but i don't know why)
rearing,
i never spoke up,
to be unnoticed is
easy without a name.
a wanderlust spiritualist's
view of the world -
to be read. to be found crazy.
and i was layin' me soul down
when i -
a nameless one -
must have whispered
' please, destroy me. '
you abided.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
your first pleasures were touch, taste and the arms that held you so dear
when the school bell rang for the first time, you felt fear
then you calmed at the sound of her sweet voice
you learned security
from the first gold star and smiley face
you knew you had promise
and with loving guidance you continued to flourish
you abided
you listened
your artwork told a feeling, it was scary,
but it drew people to you
Oh how they marveled!
you felt pleased and accomplished
what great fun you had joining the band
even earning solo perfomances
you were shy but you did it
your first love stroked your perfect hair
you were accepted
the sound of the wheels
and the feel of the board beneath your feet
brought a thrill
your scarring brought valor
a bounty of achievements
in such a short span of time
you were respected by so many
you felt you accomplished
you had the freedom to be whom-ever
without the pressure of a significant price
what happened?
was it that hard?
you knew what worked
was it your shyness or those who attracted you?
oh, the chemicals took hold and embraced you!
the temporary feeling of greatness that took hold of you
with no fear, accomplishment, promise, valor
it was done in one night with a pill
your arrogance has taken hold
you refuse to abide and listen,
did you ever think those who surround you,
feel so small that they see no way out other than a pill?
why do you think it’s always you?
what will you become if you cannot experience gain or loss?
that’s what molded you
if you only knew, this substance is nothing
it has no feeling,
destroys reputations
depletes your soul
and ages you beyond recognition
the life of promise
and freedom you once had
is fleeting
but my dear,
it is never too late to recapture it
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
Death is always in the room.
Death was there when you were born,
patiently standing behind the doctor
as he first held you up
and presented you to your mother,
covered in filth and choking for air.
Waiting.
Death was there when you took your first steps,
in case a truck
were to go careening
across your front lawn,
in a freak accident,
slamming through the front window
and into the living room,
ruining the kodak moment.
Death was there for all the important events,
and all the mundane ones:
Looking on with your father
while you learned to ride a bicycle.
Hovering over midfield
during every soccer practice.
One row down from you
in the orchard
during the rainstorm
when you had your first kiss.
And death is still there now,
one instant away from you,
always prepared
for that driver asleep at the wheel,
for that blood clot come unstuck
from the wall of your femoral artery,
for that gunman
suddenly bursting through your door.
But that’s really the beautiful part of it all.
Everything that's ever happened in your life,
everything that mankind has ever accomplished,
every crying newborn baby,
every impossible feat of exploration achieved,
Death was just an instant away—
a shroud around the entire planet
constantly abided and never
broken through
until the very end.
Death is always in the room.
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 9:48 PM UTC
like every great collaboration
We clash in all the right ways
While still seemingly caressing the parts of our minds of which depths are exhausting for any other to reach
Unknowingly-
A force
Unknowingly-
Fused
Abided by the simplicity in the complex-
We shatter realms-
Surpass boundaries-
Outstretch galaxies
(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
my alternative inspiration
has long been deceased.
but the clarity of dreams so aspiring
arose from the grave
so succumbing to the doubts
formed by my misfortunate past.
there are letters written
to an empty room
where a callous man lay
in his unfurnished chair.
i breathed exhausted air
into his deserted lungs
and abided the escalation
of his deflated heart.
in time i reached a parallel conclusion
where these hollow endings between lust and love
had disconnected with hearts and heads.
i sympathized with his fevers
and disappointments in desires.
i have forgiven our distance
for solitude was only felt in our beds.
i have forgiven this silence
for it was a gift from my head.
i do not long for anyone that was-
just the feeling;
just because.
i see films of deceit
i hear time pounding through the window
and its consecutive ticking
reminds me these cursed scenes
can be repeated.
i rely on afflicted moments
as steps out the door.
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 22, 2009 at 12:46 PM UTC
I don't wanna choose
I have not yet decided
But what if one day
The people need provided
A savior in need
A hero confided
Do I have what it takes
With the doubt subsided
When I fail
When I've misguided
All the people
Had to've abided
A heroine fake
A heroine strided
No longer a leader
But placed besided
Step down the throne
Step down to the floor
My place atop
Was too much a chore
Too much to handle
Too much to adore
Have not what it takes
To stand up for
For all the people
For all the deplore
I have now decided
Not to choose anymore
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
I flew to see her in Chicago, went out for dinner and hopped a train to South Bend the next evening. We brought ***** and whiskey to keep us company on the short ride along the lake. That night we made love, I mean really made love; both reaching ****** simultaneously. My prowess was there, in spades, but we slept instead. The morning greeted me with a hard on and she another ****** My prowess turned to hubris but I said nothing aside from, “Wow.”
The day, a Saturday, was spent touring the campus; a beautiful one at that, my favorite. I acted as tour guide while she abided courteously; I had the day, the girl, the nostalgia. There was a football game and we decided to go; the home team versus their oldest and most hated rivals, a must see. We yelled and screamed at the away team until they lost; beating themselves really. In the ecstasy of victory we promptly returned to the house and to bed. Again we made love, again simultaneous ****** I felt a deep, heavy connection, a longing. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep but the night was cold and long and my breathing too slow to match hers. For hours I sat and let my arm go numb until I could stand it no longer and went for a glass of water.
In the morning we made love again, she reaching ****** me with a feigned smile. The day was spent with my father’s family, an unexpected detour. She was affable, me benign, and the day went on until we boarded the train once more, this time sober. We discussed my next visit, or rather attempted to as the conversation turned to politics, welfare, humanity. As I left for the plane I told her that I loved her and she said, “Goodbye.”
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
It still tastes the same.
When I saw the sun,that rose in thy's eyes
Brimming with a passionate love in disguise.
I danced and whirled in my ballet shoes;
Completely abided of what I chose .
I sat at the dawn to count the dews.
It held my hand and dyed me in thy eternal hues.
I sat in the night, with an utmost fright .
The moon whispered the stars to ignite me with a hope of delight.
The colors in me , intensified,
In pain to paradise.
A wound hard to describe.
I crossed thy's path to meet its mornings,
Until I burned my own night.
I defaced my veil of disgrace,
to adore the light.
I fell head over heels in love with thy's scars.
Also Ask the falling star- "How distressed you are?"
"I take pride in my ambit.
I rode ,to fall in thy's tide."
That night,all the other stars cried.
The night light stroked me with an agony of lie.
I tried to rip myself until ,
I knew I was an anchoress to thy.
And I became homeless,
Again,but
In devotion ,
To its illusion.
Perhaps, I came a long way to ask myself - "what do I see for this is surreal?"
A puff of air whispered - "Open your eyes and feel,
It still tastes the same in Real."
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 11:06 AM UTC
~inspired by a poem and messages from fellow poets ~
who have ridden beside me here,
for a decade plus,
SE Reimer, & Sally Bayan~
**we take our meds, vitamins and supplements
routinely, faithfully and with a big smile
of self-bemusement at all the times I mocked
those sillys who believed that
hu man
can
override his prescribed
sentencing
record almost every morsel that passes through my portals, reporting quantity and quality to remind me of my human needs, but
more to gauge my wearing weaknesses, and
make confession of
my sins of gourmand commission
and despite this and more, regular checkups, and blah blah blah, No Lies told here, the aging days are upon us, my brow furrowed
by a lengthening To Do list, that is endlessly
refurbished with more additions than
subtractions, ergo, the list grows longer as fast as the days remaining,
grow shorter,
ever faster!
no kidding myself, you feel (really) the cells
slowing their recovery, their fading fastness in every little thing, we squint where we used
to go without trepidation, we twist and turn
to musical utterances and undertones that
are groans and laughter at the old carcass’s
refreshing harmonic epiphany
of time’s passage
and think well,
I’ll do that tomorrow,
handle that later,
deal with that problem surely
eventually,
and the only thing that is attended to almost
instantly, is writing here,
last gasp observations,
that my being demands be issued now!
in time beating to
my slowing heart rate,
or factually,
my rapidly
rising rate,
each a contradictory economic indicator
of the same,
singular portending trend
so here I am ribbing and scribbling myself
before you, prompted by a gorgeously written poem by my friend (1) and the departure of another to a faraway land
where they live, my failure to meet, a shameful delay by an old man’s cautious
fear, that should not be abided…
is this a poem,
a cri de coeur,
a confession -
something of all three, but it is done,
breaths and words rapidly expelled, and for once. I feel like I have, once, now, gambled
against time, and actually
won
Dec 8, 2024
Dec 8, 2024 at 7:30 AM UTC
So this is my fate?
This Rock hard
Silver Slate
Of Metal...
Stick it to my wrist, then shove a little.
Leads me t my thrush holding dream
Take me away to destiny,
Fantasy,
All my blood inside of me
Gushing Out,
Rushing out,
No other ways to get out!
So I depart,
Broken heart, new start.
No more decisions to be decided
No more laws to be abided
Hell, Imma do what I want, and say what I like,
Yah know why niggah'? I run this life.
Ain't no one gonna tear me down,
Shoo, listen hear baby, I own this town.
Don't waste yur time trying to flip a frown
This one's solid, like cemented ground
If yah like what yah see
I'll break down to my knees
Begging you to set me free
Emotionally, mentally
Anyway, let go of me!
Burst my brains out, so I know how you feel
Baby, these emotions are too unreal
As I leave your ring
Beside your bed,
Kiss your head,
Light the match,
No lookin' back,
Burn myself to the mother ******* ground,
Ashes, ashes, my body falls down.
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 6:08 PM UTC
Beside me you slithered
and guarded me against my foes.
On the verge of attack
you wrapped around my hand, and his attack slowed.
Curious he was as you abided my command,
Scared he was as you wrapped around my hand.
One strike then two,
Holy hell, he didn't know what to do.
Petrified as you hissed
He was frozen in time as your head started to twist.
I gave my command, and swore I saw you smile,
Then your eyes turned red: red like God cursed the nile.
As you unwrapped from around my hand,
I saw his fear, as more Serpents' covered the land.
Nowhere to go he stood awaiting his pain,
for each strike landed like a hard stinging rain.
This sense of power I felt I had,
Like 'Voldomort' who killed Harry's dad.
More serpents came and gathered round,
and swore an oath to protect me with a chilly hissing sound.
Complete control and fearless I am,
for I have hundreds of serpents abiding my command.
Am I evil, because serpents swarm at my feet,
I don't know, but I await my enemies at my Serpent's seat..
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
Four men born
Different and the same
Never meeting each other
Some wild some tame
One man the gift of gab
Another a musical sensation
The third given athletics
The last given determination
The first spoke beautifully
A voice like no others
Coasting through life
Doing nothing for his brothers
He grew like a ****
Top of all deeds
First wave of trouble
He surrenders and recedes
His possibilities are few
His lack of drive decided
The few feats he made
For his fears abided
The second a musical genius
His harmony was perfection
No sound he couldn’t master
His favorite the brass section
As easy as greeting the day
He played the greatest sound
Everyone enjoyed his gift
How his ability did astound
Alas one day he lost a duel
Harder he did not work
He lost time and again
So his talent he did shirk
Never again did he play
For what was the use
Too difficult the work
No lack of an excuse
Now he works in a box
His tasks painless
Never rising from ordinary
His record stainless
The third man a muscular marvel
Body carved from steel
Strong as an ox
His form ideal
In any arena
He would be winner
No blemishes on the outside
Not true of the inner
For one day he met his match
And apart did he fall
Refusing to get up
He decided to crawl
Please they all beg
But his pride was hurt
I quit his reply
He declined to convert
What a man he could have been
Had he only tried harder
Alas he did not
He’d rather be a martyr
The last man had nothing unique
Seemingly nothing great
Life just like the others
Without any special trait
He failed many times
But kept on trying
Fell many times
Yet remained undying
One day it was unbearable
Life gave its worst
Stumbled he did
Feeling cursed
He fought it through
To the very end
Trouble battled back
His will did not bend
During it all he kept going
No talent to grasp
Never did he stop
Until he did gasp
Later in life
He looked about
His trials were over
And he had clout
Because of his tests
He excelled and overcame
He had no regrets
He had no shame
Many tests taught him well
Countless hardships made him tall
Finally his gift discovered
To always rise when you fall
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 1:54 PM UTC
Prometheus
Meaning forethought
Champion of human intellect
eternally tormented
Civilization
fire and clay formations
Cultural Titan
Eternally tormented
Forethought
Ravens pluck out his eyes
Locked cage abided by time
Eternally tormented
Atlas
Endurance and strength
Holder of the skies
Eternally tormented
Endurance and strength
Skilled in math philosophy and astronomy
Hard enduring
Eternally tormented
Two
Eternally tormented
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 7:38 PM UTC
My poet, I'm flattered by your attention
But your comments are rather misguided
You are mistaken about my condition
I truly wish your words could be abided
I'm not always quite this fair and gentle
And I'm not, by any means, eternal
Truthfully, sometimes I think I'm mental
Viewed closely, most previous notions fall
I'm not a fair day, I'm a hurricane
Inside my mind, flowers don't stand a chance
I'm sorry if my response gives you pain
But if you find that you still want to dance
I, too, would like to turn another page
And see if we share scenes in this world's stage
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:35 PM UTC
His face looked suddenly swollen, as though unshed tears, finding no outlet through his eyes, flowed beneath his skin wherever it found space. He would not look at me, but away, and yet I knew he was not seeing what he looked at. His blue eyes had darkened, and something had receded into his deepest place, so that when he looked at me finally, I saw the unspoken, unreleased emotion at his center. I felt as though a sabre had passed through me as through softened butter, at his look. There was nothing I could do, then or ever. I might never know that unspoken, unreleased story, and a part of me was relieved, for I felt its terror course through me as he looked at me. How had he stayed alive and sane? The answer was there, in that deep core where he abided in this moment, a courage that was itself so complete a part of who he was that he scarce noticed it. Then, I knew. I knew that no matter what that story was, it did not define him, but he could not forget it, in moments like this one.
His eyelids dropped, a tiny movement that showed me he saw that I knew where the limits lay and I would not disturb them. That I was not then, or ever, going to "fix" him or pursue him into his deepest place. That I would wait for, but never expect, his invitation to follow him there. He adjusted his shoulders then, the way he always did when he began to relax.
I needed to be alone. I felt as though I had emotional jet lag from that supersonic view into the unknown behind his eyes. I wanted to curl into myself and go comatose, so that when I landed I would not feel the bump or feel the nausea of the descent. I turned away and walked to the spring. On my knees, I splashed the icy water over my face and neck, needing the sting of the wet and the cold to ground me in my being. When I turned to look at him, he was gone. I had not heard him leave, but was not surprised. I already thought he was a ghost in a body.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
I'll no longer deliberate
not on my side anymore is time
old age comes too soon and is abhorred
it announces: 'Beware of the pending final outcome'.
I'll no longer weep
tears should be left
buried under the river
of the past--not to be delved.
I'll no longer beg to be loved
it shall be mine if such I deserve
if I've been true and in faith abided
love's gentle cradle shall be my preserve.
I'll no longer be on any search
joys and sorrows--they have my life shaped
into the labyrinth of my heart they have ******
in their wordless mysteries I'm draped.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
She lost her shoe
tripping away from the
midnight ball.
No prince would call
to save her from her plight
of dire domesticity.
For in her mean reality
there abided fairies, true,
But mute,
and they had no
tales to tell.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
She is locked in the world of expectations
Abided by laws and orders
She is instructed by many people and her friends
And is always a subject of manipulation.
She's always compared to her siblings
Always trying to do her best
She is never allowed to say a word
But could say,' everything is on the rest'.
She was not a mother
But knew what pain was
People tried to hide her
But never knew What a girl she was!
Oh girl! Don't think of those whom you have lost
'Cause you were killed before only
When your mother was.
She never knew who did it
But then realised her mother was dead
She never tried to know either
'Cause she knew it was her own d'd!
She finished her story with lines,
" My dad is alive and so is my mom,
Her soul was dead when I was born."
Oh! Poor readers you won't get it
Who, her mother was
But one thing can be on deck
What a girl she was!
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
Stainless steel,
granite countertops,
crowded cabinets,
and branded appliances.
Whirring,
clanking,
beeps and whistles.
All ours is not.
You won’t find my heart there:
left to be abandoned in a lonely corner,
only greeting soles on holidays,
when arms are forced to open to guests
and lips are stretched to reveal lying whites
because deep darks abided in our chests.
You’ll find it in enclosed in the hall.
Confined, airless, even claustrophobic.
But there are no cobwebs here.
No mildew, no rust,
no crumbs or dust.
You’ll find it underneath the floorboards,
creaking with every footstep,
playing the chords that made up the rhythms and beats
of systolic and diastolic melodies.
You’ll find it in the windowsill,
planted with the succulents,
resilient to forgetful hands
and yet affectionate to sunbeams
who pulsed perfectly.
There are days when the sunshine feels insensitive.
But it is in every throb and rise, murmur and fall,
that life floods in.
It’s funny to me when people say the kitchen is the heart of the home.
If it was, my heart would be empty.
—S.C., September 23, 2015
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC