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| Topic: She Said We's Just Old | |
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Merry Christmas Sadie...don't expect me to get poetic!
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Merry Christmas Sadie...don't expect me to get poetic!
ah, but you already did... Yes, Our Very Own You are poetry a heart that reaches a soul that finds friendship and love the lasting kind. SadieLu 12/6/2011 |
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Merry Christmas Sadie...don't expect me to get poetic!
ah, but you already did... Yes, Our Very Own You are poetry a heart that reaches a soul that finds friendship and love the lasting kind. SadieLu 12/6/2011 aw!!! Thank you! |
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  Merry Christmas Viv and Sadie,,,
May the snow take you into its flight,,as the Spirit of Christ keeps you in His light.... 
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Merry Christmas Viv and Sadie,,,
May the snow take you into its flight,,as the Spirit of Christ keeps you in His light....
A Blessed and Merry Christmas, Terry. |
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First Snow
I can still see the path even though cold and frozen has masked its demeanor of gray softer more alluring in its impression. For that single flash all is captured to still. Though I cannot remember where I was or what I was thinking I drift to moments of before. Before life felt so cold so quiet so muted. Winding, crooked. This path is still there, though obstacles of distractions are sealed in icy fate's glittering temporal reflection. Framed in this it is good to be alone familiar to move toward warmth that is waiting behind faded hues for after all the path has not left us. SadieLu 12/2011 |
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The Last Night
She didn’t hear the noises or see the fireworks just reminisced going to New York watching the ball drop as the count-down took all her attention that year. She smiled as she remembered the children banging the pots and pans they had removed from her cupboards. Her grandchildren... hers. A good life full of travel enjoyment. Sorrows everyone has those. Blessings... staring you right in the face. I don’t think I will be going on any more trips, she said with a slight wispy stare. I think I went by myself that year. It was the same year I went into the Copa Cobana... just to see what it looked like. Boy, did she travel... SadieLu 1/2012 |
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It has been said, that...
In a cascading heap intertwined revealed is season's end. Anticipation awaits while death and dying relish in complacent denial accepted in a fashion. and...If you listen you can hear whispers of regret too soon too quickly why now. Deeply majestic aubergine holds silence where midnight awe whispered what could have been... what is. Minstrel strums humming it is not yet ended... I am told. T'will bloom once more rouged, garish, plump while stars again, sing the night away enticing hope... So I am told. SadieLu 1/2012 |
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The Last Night
She didn’t hear the noises or see the fireworks just reminisced going to New York watching the ball drop as the count-down took all her attention that year. She smiled as she remembered the children banging the pots and pans they had removed from her cupboards. Her grandchildren... hers. A good life full of travel enjoyment. Sorrows everyone has those. Blessings... staring you right in the face. I don’t think I will be going on any more trips, she said with a slight wispy stare. I think I went by myself that year. It was the same year I went into the Copa Cobana... just to see what it looked like. Boy, did she travel... SadieLu 1/1 2012 |
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Though I open my heart
Though I open my heart to you, become vulnerable, do you not think I have my pride? For some it is the only gold or silver they own. For me, I do not know any more. Love needs a place to reside. How can granite embrace soft without crushing it? SadieLu 2012 |
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Edited by
Teditis
on
Mon 01/30/12 05:26 PM
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Though I open my heart Though I open my heart to you, become vulnerable, do you not think I have my pride? For some it is the only gold or silver they own. For me, I do not know any more. Love needs a place to reside. How can granite embrace soft without crushing it? SadieLu 2012 I missed this one... Very nice, Hard and Soft compliment each other I think... sometimes. The world is a perfect place for the absurd. |
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You Can Sing anything There's no lesson to the story when the Blues jump that train. Her eyes a' cryin while that red dress cuts a vein. If only I could tell you how many times I've sung on the back steps where the alley met a cold hearted tongue. Man, seems can't take how this lonely feels so dead but a strut and a riff starts to clear a muddy head. Yeh, I'll jump that train ol' Blues Line Express an try to keep from rippin ... my favorite new red dress. Yeh, Baby...just a story, ya think? SadieLu/2011 I REALLY like this one. |
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You Can Sing anything There's no lesson to the story when the Blues jump that train. Her eyes a' cryin while that red dress cuts a vein. If only I could tell you how many times I've sung on the back steps where the alley met a cold hearted tongue. Man, seems can't take how this lonely feels so dead but a strut and a riff starts to clear a muddy head. Yeh, I'll jump that train ol' Blues Line Express an try to keep from rippin ... my favorite new red dress. Yeh, Baby...just a story, ya think? SadieLu/2011 I REALLY like this one. Thank you, love it when it tugs a note. Thank you for sharing. |
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Rose Petal Parchments
In the silence even a rose draped in itself bleeds to compose. Eventual as its end reveals, her petals fall to dry to feel. Quiet hues fade from sight penned parchment etchings cry a heart. Soon I will look for you again. But tears will dry, I know not when. SadieLu 2012 |
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In This Garden
Even the crows are welcomed here to roost on the hand rails of the bridge to peck in the lush grasses, cool to the feet. They are not turned away. How does a crow mourn, anyway? They do not tarry as the wind carries their voice, squawking a pierce through these broken hearts. They could not keep a black watch over the muffled sound of tears breaking their fall. No, the released petals of the roses hold those memories. Welcomed here, they are to serve their own purpose of momentary rebuttal. Gone as quickly as they came. how... does... a crow mourn...anyway? SadieLu 2012 |
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It has been said, that... In a cascading heap intertwined revealed is season's end. Anticipation awaits while death and dying relish in complacent denial accepted in a fashion. and...If you listen you can hear whispers of regret too soon too quickly why now. Deeply majestic aubergine holds silence where midnight awe whispered what could have been... what is. Minstrel strums humming it is not yet ended... I am told. T'will bloom once more rouged, garish, plump while stars again, sing the night away enticing hope... So I am told. SadieLu 1/2012 ((((Sadie))))
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Pricked
Self proclaimed giver of grandiose implosions leaving life motionless preserved in its unrelieved cacophony... In your face, in everyone's face. Coffined beneath articulated verbiage honed denial, spurious apology lacking remorse a bleached perspective sheeting in the wind as you parade in your faux innocence, draped across your heart. You cannot fool the child standing amidst the heap of hoarded piles you call...treasures walking through steeped gutted pathways holding on to disappearing hand rails. Blindfolded, blindsided hearing only your rant. No. The child grows truth. A rose that cannot be denied. Tears that stain the hand crimson when... pricked. SadieLu 12. |
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Whispers Carried In The Wind
It was the last time she spoke of a treasured morsel where intimacy kissed leaving their moistened tell tale secret. A sadness where their truth would be pressed and dried between embossed parchment pages. Permission gave way to reveal shadows veiling passions soon to take on a different life. No longer would tears serve to refresh to nourish. Just fill spill soaking into the furrowed ground awaiting. She understood the depth and reach of our hearts similarly gifted. Aptly spoken in graceful movement mercy guided us piecing together the quiet as we shared. Sometimes this is all we have those times where understanding comes back to teach us wisdom we would not hear before silence and separation gave us no alternative. Eyes closed lips pressed together in calm Whispers carried in the wind... It was the last time she spoke of them. SadieLu 2012 |
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Why
How does one reckon this obliteration a skeletal reminder at best. Piercing shards casting reflection to the heavens hoping to feel what death cannot as denial lives on rattling scratching while dried petals crumble to dust. This heart can bear only so much. Mourning bleeds its breath forever as my tears refresh the rain. So still this gasping soundless formless void whispering...why why... SadieLu 12 |
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that's sure some heavy metal i read in a while ..lucid , precise and awe inspiring...
please don't publish them in a book for a while if possible..i am really broke, and wouldn't wanna try my luck on whether i could restrain myself from stealing it off the shelf... |
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