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i remember

>> Monday, November 15, 2010





















now i realize seeing your name
in my mind i remember you

in the field among dragonflies
little hands weaving dreams
in that little room long gone
you always smelled of the sun

i see you outside the window
catching rain with your hands
you did not turn as i leave
time went without goodbyes

why do summers have to go?
fading even sunsets in pictures
with faces that replaced mine?
you never wrote, i broke a vow 

now i realize saying your name again
in my mind and in the many places
of my heart i'll forever remember us


  • I dedicate this little ode to old and older friends I have lost and found again. Thanks for the memories. And here's hoping to making some more with you.  

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[GUEST POETRY]

>> Saturday, November 13, 2010

Ocean's Gift
by Marie Jimenez-Beaumont






















When life casts its gray shadows
and the tests have been too much to take
When my heart has been broken once again
and my dreams have faded into nothingness
the white sands of the beach is where I go.

Running past sand castles
and the hidden treasures the sand may hold
running past lovers basking in the warmth
of the eternal sun -
I reach for the cool embrace of
the ocean's wave.

Together we dance to the ebb and flow
of the tide of life
and together
we stand unafraid.

In the silence of the distance the ocean's
strength speaks to me
enveloping my soul with
the gift of peace it came to find. 




"It's great to be here, meeting other writers and gaining inspiration and connections from all over the world!
fr the author's profile page on HubPages where she writes as
VioletSun







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hanging out

>> Thursday, November 11, 2010


excuse me.
 excuse me, but i only caught the last
word you said. the rest were just
high and low notes that mingled
with the smoke i thoughtlessly
exhale, ignored like the heady
scent of a pungent perfume.
i took a sip of the coffee with
a dreamy name for fear of
succumbing again into the
already familiar landscape that
we create. but the coffee, like
the cigarette, won't kick it for me.
i'm desperately hoping you'd
start singing of the apocalypse,
or pull out a knife and stab me
in the heart and maybe, just maybe,
i'd feel a rush, a gush, excitement
...anything. anything if only to
to feel something other than
this fear of feeling nothing.
but the world remains settled,
unstirred, machine-like in its
business of killing time. i dangerously
arched my back and waited for a
bone to break. nothing. i held my
breath instead and prayed for
something to snuff but still it would
not come. the thought that we'd  be
doing this forever doesn't make me
cry, or think of crying. i light up
another stick and emptied the cup
and i'm thinking what a wonderful life
this life is. this life we make. 
you and i.

.
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divine, miss m

>> Monday, November 8, 2010



























you never moved in color
always flirting in black and white
but who knew you lived in gray


did you really...one day in '62
some say they saw it coming
but i never could tell
from your face
   eyes lips skin magic
the graininess
   (where was technicolor)
could not stop the world
from stopping
when the skirt lifted
the shoulders hunched
the hips jutted
dreams came easy


or was it taken from you
that day in '62
for fighting fierce
and loving fiercer
a country girl between
a rock and a hard place
barbiturates brought the stars
a man-god could only promise


now i see you in color
larger than the life you breathed
you outshine them all
if god keeps true to his promise
you might even outlive him


if a life in gray was all it took
you did splendidly well
and i say...


divine, miss m, divine



Image: Marilyn Monroe (1962) by Andy Warhol


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[GUEST POETRY]

>> Wednesday, November 3, 2010

ToddleRIO
by Lexi Haberman




















Is he one of us?
Or is he he something else?
Was he brought by the stork?
Or manufactured for the store shelf?

Reality blurred, sentience questioned.
Humanity's achievements, time of great reflection.
What makes a human?
Soon we'll have to create an answer
To this conundrum.
The truth we frequently fear to seek,
when it threatens our ego of being unique.

If we can't get past the skin
And bask in everyones character
If we can't get past the closet
Then how shall we profit?

Is he one of us?
Or is it just a thing?
Who is alive when
Our children see the same?

You can't beseech
Such beauty
and innocence
How far has our hate
Gotten with viral resilience?

Reality blurred, sentience questioned.
Humanity's achievements, time of great reflection.
What makes a human?
Soon we'll have to create an answer
To this conundrum.
The truth we frequently fear to seek,
when it threatens our ego of being unique.



"And as always, I am your proverbial punching bag. So don't forget to abuse me, because I may just push you too far."
- fr the author's profile page on HubPages where he writes as lxxy

His other sites



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at last the sky is gray

>> Tuesday, November 2, 2010




















at last the sky is gray
the blue has gone summering
yet the rain is a world away

there is nothing here
not even blackbirds singing
and i stand ashy
a ghost among dead trees

there must be fireflies
waiting in the gloaming and beyond
shed the tear you have refused me
and my soul is free from November

i see now, know now
how cold stone live without life

at last the sky is gray
the blue has gone summering
yet the rain is a world away



at last the sky is gray

at last



Image: Die Winterreise (1827) by German Romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich,
,

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