Painting dreams,
Painting ghosts from the past,
I can't forget you,

Beautiful shades, of love,
Brushed on to an empty canvas,
Brighten my life,

You taught me to paint, the sunrise,
Memories, of your beautiful bright smile,

Painting a bright-blue-sky cotton-clouds floating by,
Seeing your blue and white dress,
Fluttering, in a cool summer breeze,

Painting a landscape of hope,
The earth touching the sky,
Seeing your hazel eyes,

Painting a flowing stream,
Memories, of tears,
The day, you sailed home with Angels to stay.

Copyright © 2018 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
YouTube text to speech poetry recitation video
https://youtu.be/Q8m-QubG_60
SG Holter Feb 2016
For Helene.


Ashes on the water, now.
Love's bones like dust downstream.  
At least it got to see itself in our eyes,
Feel itself between hand holding hand

And whispered caresses.
From pillow talk to fists raised at
Concerts, glasses of Portuguese wine
On her balcony to the sound of magpies

We named our neighbours.
We were beautiful.
Began beautifully.
Ended gracefully.

I open hands that held hers and see
Nothing but skin worn by labour,
And air.
Ashes on the water, now.

Embers without a chance against rivers  
Cold with melted mountain snow and
Unyielding differences.
Some loves drown with lungs too full

To cry; others float like a funeral-pyre-
Longboat into the night, ablaze.
King and queen, hand upon hand.
Crowns tied from fresh flowers,

We were beautiful.
Began beautifully.
Slid apart the way a glacier parts from
The hills; slowly, but with the force

Of its thousands of tons.
Ashes on the water,
Where the ghost of our union rests
Underneath the surface of our memories.

I will remember you.
Until the stars burn out, raining the
Dust of themselves like snow upon
These waters that always are moving.
Evelyn May 10
Tibetan Lotus,
Tiger Moon,
     devour the West, you
Eastern beauty in an Alice blue dress.

Blessing these
           black
bottom eggs --
      mei mei’s glass-cut palms shaping
      "L O V E" out of red
-- I’ll forget the lighter and it can be my fault but

I can’t forget
                       you
sliding
       down            
                      the telephone wall.

My sister pours lithium in the holes left behind
                                                 but my sister fills holes like I fill lines.

And no, our father wasn't there when the firefighters flooded in:
                                   a yellow sea between
the ghost of my mother            and         the ghost of me.

Five'Five" sundrop melting down the Appalachian spine,
                    he said,
                            "God can eat my God damn heart,
                              my baby won't ever die."
An experiment with family and form for an early Mother's Day piece.
I can't see anything but you
so I'll force myself to blink,
but I know it won't do
you're the first thing of I think.
Then I greet you before sleep;
I think I'll pour myself a drink,
But the cup never seems deep,
though in the depth I could sink.

Tell me a story
that's full of glory
and never sees heartbreak.
Make something for me
and please say sorry
that this was all a mistake.

Take me back in time
back to the sunshine
before the skies turned grey.
Please show me a sign
that this will all be fine,
and now this time you'll stay.

I can't see anything but you
so I stare directly to a wall,
but the paint of it is blue
and in time it's going to fall.
Even rubbing at my eyes
only causes it to stall,
we've been sharing the same skies
and listening to thunder's call.

Tell me a story
that's full of glory
and never sees heartbreak.
Ignore the gore scene
and all inbetween
even if the ending's fake.

Take me back in time
back to the sunshine
before the skies turned grey.
Ignore the bold line
this life is not mine
it wasn't meant to be this way.

And I can't see anything but you.
Ignore every other shade or hue.
I can't see anything but you.
You're stuck in my mind with glue.
And I can't see anything but you.
You're forever in my view.
I can't see anything but you,
but that's not something new.
emnabee May 21
Middle of the night.
Paralyzed with fear.
Rattling sounds.
There’s a ghost in here.

Finally get up.
Turn on tiny light.
Nevermind.
Just a cat in the drawer.
Cats are so weird.
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