jump to navigation

Tight-rope March 13, 2014

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

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

Linger June 7, 2013

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

The bass is in my chest
and it makes me feel hollow
Recent events, whatever they mean,
make a hard pill to swallow and
There’s no time to feed
the self loathing that’s roaming
in my head and my heart
or blame the rules of the game
So I shrug off the shame
lying bare on my shoulders
and move forward
But the road has grown longer
and meaner, and I don’t
want to linger here in this
faux purgatory more than I have to,
more than I need to
“I’ll pull through, in the end,”
I tell myself, like I’d
tell a friend.
For now I’m a ghost
making the most of
the time that I’m given
to prove I am driven
enough.

St. James Infirmary February 21, 2013

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
add a comment

Blue skies, blue eyes
a sad, sad story
it’s a simple progression
to make misery
a wailing song
been too damn long
since blue’s been
a good color

Any color would be
a welcome sight
to these weary eyes
a yellow bright
or a red like wine
would be more than fine
but everything’s gone grey

It’s just as well
I didn’t appreciate it
anyway

Hush February 19, 2013

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, Uncategorized, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

I.

She squeezed her lover’s hand. It seemed an innocent enough gesture to those around. But they knew the secret to keeping it all hush, hush.
Three squeezes meant “I love you”
Four squeezes meant “I love you, too”
One long squeeze meant “Please don’t leave me”
This message was lost to the second lover as they picked up their bag and waved goodbye, feigning happiness to the lover left behind. To the unconvinced Brena.

It was then that she remembered the first time she said those 3 beautiful words.
“I love you”
“Hush!” her lover laughed, “someone may hear you.
“Let them hear!” Brena retorted, firmly but lovingly
“I wish I were as brave as you”

II.

Brena sat on the cliff overlooking the quiet sea, waiting. It had been months since her lover left. She took a pebble in her hand and squeezed it thrice.

She feared for her beloved, out to sea. She shook as the wind blew but not from the cold. Rather, she shook from the quick air penetrating the growing hole in her chest. The waves swelled and hit the rocks below as her heart, too, swelled, sure that her lover was already on her way back.

She had to be.

III.

Brena wasn’t sleeping well. Nightmares of hungry men having their way with her love, holding her down and muffling her screams kept her awake.

The images had her tossing and turning in the bed she used to share.
She told herself that no matter what she would put her back together again. She would brush the sea air out of her hair and rebuild her from the ground up.

IV.

The ship came back but her lover did not. The men ignored her worried, persistent questions. She went to the cliff again and told herself she would jump.

But the sea told her “No.”

V.

Brena was visited by officials a couple of days after the ship came back, without her lover. With no other family, her beloved’s belongings were returned to her.  A scarf, a leather bag, and a pair of work boots.

“What of her emerald? She never took it off.” Brena inquired.

“Hush, do not speak out of turn woman,” the man of God raised a hand, “We are truly sorry for your loss. Your sister was a magnificent sailor.”

Brena did not correct him and he said nothing of the emerald.

VI.

In the dirty hands of the sailors, drinking in the local tavern, was the emerald in question. A raven landed on the window sill, and eyed the jewel with curiosity.
“Didn’t take much to obtain it, stupid girl didn’t put up much of a fight,” said a drunken sailor.
“Hush! Drink makes you loud and foolish,” his friends warned.
The raven flew toward the sea.

They stumbled back to their wives, no worry of the morning’s repercussions in their mind, only the present merriment.
They were spared the harsh, judging light of day for none would wake with the sun.
Their blood drained from their throats,
Their tongues cut from their mouths,
Their bodies covered in black feathers.
The last sound they heard before death took them hung in the air, more than a promise. More than a threat.

“Hush”

Tears Grow Nothing March 21, 2012

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
4 comments

Don’t let me define you.
I am not a mirror
and even those are flawed.

Let me start over.

I am a gesture.
At best, a natural occurrence.
A pretty face and nothing more.

Don’t let me decide for you.
That’s not fair
I am not equipped for that
And you deserve better

At the end of the day,
no matter how many petals you pull,
he’s never coming back
And I’m only a flower.

Forgotten Father January 3, 2012

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
4 comments

All seeing eye of a realm in the sky
How lonely you must be
Your followers long dead
Your triumphs turned legend
And existence believed myth

A King may have all of the riches
and power to rule without waver
but a god with no
prayers
is a fish out of water

The hunger of your ego
doesn’t even possess the luxury
of ceasing to exist
A mortal’s death would surely suffice
but an immortal body would never allow it

And so you linger, like the scent of sunshine
after a long summer day,
watching and waiting for a true believer
to resurrect what has long laid dormant
an honest to god undying magic
the Forgotten Father of Winter’s past

earthly unrest October 13, 2011

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

Fresh rain
on warm cement
the scent of what
went in the night
when you meant
to sleep longer hours
between blankets in fright
of the light that will die
when days become cold
and the air much more
bold, tightening our hold on
the layers we’re told will
keep our blood warm
and conquer the storm
that looms overhead
I dread an arrival that
is simply unheard of. My
musings unsaid will hide til
the spring when flowers
give way to the colorful things
But for now, stay inside til
the raining subsides and
the colors don’t crunch
quite as well as I’d like

 

Seeing Red April 8, 2011

Posted by findingherforte in poetry.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

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.

Day Dreams March 27, 2011

Posted by findingherforte in Uncategorized.
Tags: , , , , , ,
2 comments

A fate so cruel
for dreamer to wake
to find that it’s
Monday
and the heart needs
to wait

And in the crazy every
day
stop and go
for reasons unknown,
I forget.

A touch of electricity
to power up this heart
to charge up these parts
that depart
when your sad eyes
round corners, smoothing
the edges
of vision that’s blurred
I can’t find the word

So I’m left feeling hollow
like a lead with no follow
or a chord without melody
but if you were here
you’d find me a remedy
I know.

Reunited our love will explode
in so many colors
in extravagant wonder
with lightning and thunder
My eyes will open and so
will the skies
to realize
my demise when the
sun starts to rise
and I don’t see your
eyes staring back into mine.

The line is so fine
between dreaming
and real
when the love that
you have
give dreams no appeal.

Atlas Shrugged February 26, 2011

Posted by findingherforte in poetry.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
2 comments

Embers left
from fires golden
tracing steps that
crack and smolder

Ear to ear
your eyes are lost
a smile’s warmth
to melt the frost

Look ahead with
autumn trembles
look behind just
to remember

High heights climbed
and falling rocks
the search for keys
for fancy locks

Passion’s flame
to light the dark
long nights in
to find the spark

Regal heart
choose your fate
it’s yours to have,
and yours to take

Atlas shrugged
his mighty burden
think of this
in times uncertain