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Tight-rope March 13, 2014

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
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Tight-rope walking with a
rope around my waist
hanging onto memories
of times I cannot place
the words are formed upon
the lips my
fingers used to trace
and I know that I will fall
if I keep
moving at this
pace
but if I stop to face the ground
my work will be a waste

Seeing Red April 8, 2011

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An absence of red
has left me feeling
blue

plastic paradise
or soon to be
high glass walls
your world,
your aquatic cathedral
rocks and a
solitary,
green tree in which
to sit.
I imagine those were
the times you
did the most thinking
whatever it was you
thought about

In the sun you
glittered like a
Christmas ornament
and, in the same respect,
brought such light
and life
to an otherwise
barren bookshelf.
I never knew something
so small
could make me so happy.
And yet so heartbroken
when absent.

I gave you more
credit than most
and I sacrificed a
reputation of sanity
to spare you a few words.
For a creature who
lived, ate, and
loved a plastic tree
(more than I thought possible)
I adored you as if
I had brought you into
this world myself,
plastic bag in hand.

And what’s in a name, anyway?
Mostly irony, in
your case.
Although red, an innocent
life
was lead
down to the last pebble
and like your name sake
you left us in spring
a time of pinks and yellows
but no red
just empty glass
and an unoccupied
plastic
tree.

RIP Mussolini, the red beta fish. May you find many plastic trees to keep you happy in the big fish bowl in the sky. I miss you.

untitled October 15, 2010

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because not despite
how I tremble with fright!
when I don’t hear your heart
going bump in the night

where you lay is left cold
growing dusty and old
there’s a silence where secrets
are most often told

I’ll pretend for awhile
that I still feel your smile
even though we’re parted
by more than a mile

but someday the distance
will be more reminiscent
and the lovers will find
it was worth the persistence

Static Cling July 29, 2010

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This was not written based on true events. Just true fears.

Where you no longer
linger, in body and mind,
your scent still
clings
like an autumn leaf
in denial of spring

Desperately tugging
at the tattered
corners of my
memory
Though faded, they
light up a life
amidst dark hours

Performing the role
of a simple reminder
conjuring weak smiles
Innocent enough
until night falls and
it only emphasizes
your absence

Once sleep overcomes me,
a dreaming fool,
my senses allude to illusion
of a world where
you roam
And, like your aura,
I cling to the pillow
that your head no longer
falls upon

An era ended swiftly
a history never fading
how cruel a fate
for a widow to keep reliving
what’s dead

Brioso August 14, 2009

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[written July 3rd, 2009]

I’m praying that
when
blinking is unavoidable
we both don’t wake
in opposite
beds
in a cold sweat
that pastes itself
to our foreheads like
an apology
your hand’s
warmth
still hovering
like the ghostly
whisps of happiness
that cling to
the morning air

I’m hoping that
when
reality kicks in,
your presence
lingers
even longer than
the sweet
summer scent
that occupies
sticky air
and when all else
fails
I’ll have you
to fall back
on
like a strong tower
stable isn’t particularly
a bad thing

I’m realizing
now
that wish making
is a thing
of the past
stars have been
demoted
to mere decoration
for my unlikely
fairy tale
that jumped from
the pages
parachute intact
no crash landings
this time.

Undone June 19, 2009

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Pour me a cup
of nostalgia
right side up
for an upside down
kind of day
and hand me a
plate of memories
over easy
burnt to a crisp
but stone cold
Typical

An empty feeling,
more than a feeling,
keeps me dreaming
and reaching for
some kind of
answer
to this lack of color
It’s all black and white
if you tilt your head
just right
Just hope and pray
that your head
doesn’t stay that way
Keep my eyes closed
hoping it makes the
world at large
that much easier
to stomach

This time last week
was a whole ‘nother
shipwreck

This time tomorrow
I won’t even be
at sea
I’m ready, I am
No mind tricks,
believe it or not
Gotta catch the sun
before the horizon
swallows it whole
The wind cries
freedom
and though no tears
have been shed
I feel completely
Undone

Yellow March 3, 2009

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Yellow
mellow fellow
Catalyst
for forgotten feelings
finding shapes
upon my ceiling
hard to swallow
try not to wallow
in self pity
or think about
the nity gritty
Soft to the touch
but painful to feel
can’t find the fine line
between dreaming and real
My heart’s not a toy
for your amusement
letting go
of my resentment
Old news, I know
let this hope grow
and wrap its vines tight
I struggle to fight
the wandering mind
Afraid that I’ll find
reason to hold onto
what I have left of you
 is just a teddy bear

[[another oldie. enjoy]]