Life Pillows
The cerulean sky perches
on ivory cushioned pillows,
white dumplings reflected
in still azure waters.
Pale yellow sun
spider webs her face,
drying the dew
on soft upper lip.
Cinnamon sands
filter aimlessly
through fingers,
marking life
in hourglass
of time.
Wisps of wind
sooth her
like tiny puffs
of marshmallows.
‘Might have been’
life solidifies
into darkness
as she cuts
the rope
between
insanity and genius.
Life breathes
its finality
as it plunges
to infinity.
And she rests,
in earthen bed
in peace at last.
I Won’t Rhyme this Time
I have never liked rhyme. To me it seems forced, putting the writer in a position of having to choose a word simply because it sounds like the word before and not because it’s the right word to convey the poem’s meaning.
That said, I do, on occasion, use rhyme. Sometimes, if I want something to sound silly, I’ll use it so that the reader’s brain will fall into a sing-song rhythm, almost like a children’s verse. I also use it when I write in Trijan Refrain, a poetic form whose requirements dictate that certain words and lines must rhyme. I’m not sure why I find this such an alluring form to use except, perhaps, that its use of repetition gives it a power other forms lack.
So use rhyme if you want – I just don’t guarantee that I’ll jump to read it right away.
it was
“hi.”
it was the start.
“nice to meet you.”
it was sweet.
“you look beautiful."
it was happiness.
"will you go out with me?”
it was new.
“my childhood was bad.”
it was the past.
“i’ll take care of you.”
it was trust.
“why are you so late?”
it was raised voices.
“i don’t care!”
it was breaking.
“no.”
it was angry.
“…”
it was silence.
“if you would just talk to me!”
it wouldn’t change.
“i don’t want to do this.”
it was lies.
“what did I tell you?”
it was pain.
“why won’t you learn?”
it was constant.
“i didn’t mean it.”
it was more make-up.
“it was an accident.”
it wasn’t.
“i won’t stop.”
it was months later.
“i’m in charge.”
it was desperate.
“who did you call?”
it was sirens.
“what is wrong with you?”
it was you.
“i need to talk to her.”
it was through glass.
“i need to tell you.”
it was said before.
“i’m sorry.”
it wasn’t enough.
“i love you.”
it never was.
“i’ll miss you.”
it was the end.
“goodbye.”
it always had been.
Peace
Peace is
The warm glow of the sun on your face
The slow pace of an afternoon stroll
The laughter of children sharing each other's joy
The holding hands of a girl and a boy
The love in their eyes in their gazes so deep
A sleep
a restful comforting sleep
A pillow that softly cradles your head
A meadow filled with countless beds
of flowers and bees
and tall luscious trees
The sound of the raindrops hitting the window pane
The rainbow that stretches so wide across the sky
A mountain so high, a sweet baby's cry
A voice thick like molasses or sweet like honey
A touch warm and gentle, a taste rich and yummy
The babbling brook and whispering wind with so much to say
The beginning of a beautiful morning, the end of a long day
A faith in a Higher Power, a regal eagle in flight
A hope for a better day, a kiss and being held tight
Peace is all of these things
and the joy that they bring