Monday, monday…
January 27th, 2009 by Karen
I am deciding today was a total wash. There was nothing spectacular that went wrong, just lots of little things went awry, got broken and my shoulder is throbbing for the third day in a row. Coupled with my crampy lower back pain and the fact that my husband is ill and I’m just a certifiable hot mess today. It’s only 10 pm, but I’m calling it a day.
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Reverie
January 22nd, 2009 by Karen
In a small dark hollow of my heart,
a secret spot,
where my dreams live and die
accumulated with years of dust and grime
I hide my fears and laughter
my joys and terror,
my failings,
my sadness.
Antique memories lay scattered,
like scraps of paper
blown by the wind
well worn with touch and tears.
Tattered and silent
I sit among the remants
of plans and hopes, rose petals,
well meant words and unsaid murmurs.
Never expecting the knock
and filtered sunshine
your palm bestows
into the recesses of my thoughts.
1/1/09
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Dreams
January 22nd, 2009 by Karen
In the half light of dawn
roused from slumber
delicious drowsiness sealing my eyes
I feel you move from my side
stealing across the covers
the warmth of your palm
hovering at my shoulder
sliding down my languid arm
crossing my stomach with a feather touch
before closing tightly over my hip
I sense your pause
coiling like a tiger to pounce
the tension in your leg like a tight spring
solid against my thigh
inching slowly over my body
shifting your bulk above me
I sigh softly as you lean closer
your scent assaults me
draws me deeper, awakens my passion
your voice whispers, deep and dark
speaking to me of forbidden desires
and matters of the heart
I surrender my will to yours
stretching in a liquid motion beneath you
the heat rising where your skin meets mine
crying out softly as you slide forward
joining us firmly in a rapturous embrace
our bodies mingling amongst the tumbled sheets
I bite my lip, stifling moans
grasping the headboard tight
as you slide your hands under my shoulders
pulling me towards you
we move faster in unison
until your groans erupt within me
pulsating and seeking my own sweet release
I whisper my devout thanks
into the ether, effused with warmth
feeling your lips brush mine fleetingly
as your weight tenderly lifts
releasing my clasp and reaching for you
yearning for you to remain
encountering nothing but air
I open my eyes to the new day
and to the flat expanse of ceiling
hovering oppressively, preventing me from taking flight
slowly drawing myself up on elbows
searching for your elusive form
flitting as if a shadow, stealing from my side
pulse races and blood pounds
the deep throbbing of our lovemaking
the only lingering evidence of your presence
here nightly in my dreams.
4/28/08
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Angel
January 22nd, 2009 by Karen
Bright thoughts of you illuminate my soul
as unquenchable as fire, as unchang’ed as the soothing breeze.
Speak not, sweet angel, of the tragic shards of night,
nor of the passing of the stars,
but of the passionate hope met in the dawn of morn.
While soft lips whisper passion
driven by a feign’ed no so little meant and coy,
thusly spake leads ever onward to the gentle violence of joy.
11/29/07
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The Vault
January 20th, 2009 by Karen
This is my innermost writings. Most of this has never been seen by eyes other than mine.
It’s a little out of order, but I don’t know how to fix that yet.
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Homecoming
January 20th, 2009 by Karen
She stood on the balcony
hair the color of madrone, dancing in the breeze
watery blue eyes, gazing, searching
as her dress of gauze fought the wind
and grasped for her.
Beautiful, but sadness consumed her
eminating from her, as if she was only that
and she waited, picturesque against the stone
cold and weary.
The clouds blew in slow from the east
as the night began its watch
The first star appeared
and then she knew.
She raised her trembling arms
and begged the sea, the wind, the clouds
and lastly the star
the star they shared.
She saw the face in the mists
thrown up from the sea
before she heard the step on the flagstone,
warmth enveloped her.
As closed eyes only see
she knew as lips touched
he returned for her
and she whispered welcome home.
1994
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June 20, 2002
January 20th, 2009 by Karen
This was a prolific evening of writing…these have no titles and I have left them in order.
_____________________________________________________________
New lines unfold daily
a crease here
a wrinkle there
a bruise, a scar
three gray hairs
I’ve noticed
have you?
There’s a little more
to go around these days
less sanity,
more hips.
Why does the mirror lie?
Doesn’t it know I’m still a lithe nineteen?
Have you noticed?
I have.
Now you slumber
snoring peacefully
resting from a hard day’s work
It’s only 9 pm
I think you’ve noticed.
I kiss your cheek,
you mumble incoherently.
I offer,
you shift, then snort.
I whisper,
you turn and face the wall.
You noticed.
I know.
_____________________________________________________________
My head pounds
cars thrum in the darkness
the aging pipes creak in the house
we try to make a home
Amont the clutter and kitch,
we make our attempt
to put things in their place,
but not everything has a place
so they cohabitate
my socks live on top of the dresser
instead of a drawer
your books migrate
changing resting places daily
the toys, the laundry, the filing
the junk we think we need to keep.
All moves constantly
until company comes.
Then everything congregates in closets
where they remain
and the cycle begins anew.
_____________________________________________________________
Do you know
about my headache?
about my worry?
my fears?
that I lie awake nightly
listening to you sleep
wishing, hoping beyond hope
that you would open your eyes
and speak with me?
Something more than perfunctory.
Ask me how my day was
if you can rub my back
or my feet
or kiss my temples
the way you used to;
make my heart soar.
Happiness isn’t supposed
to be fleeting or hard to obtain
it’s simply a thank you for the laundry
or a let me get that for you.
We share so much, yet I’m so alone
it seems like I must be doing
something wrong.
Otherwise, you’d notice
I’ve got the light on
and I’m writing poetry.
_____________________________________________________________
There was a time
in a galaxy far far away
in the not so distant past
where an emotional wreck
met a hopeless romantic.
With much tenderness and care
the courted…and loved.
Slowly a year has turned to ten and
the romantic became distant and aloof
and the wreck, the hopless romantic.
Now she plants flowers, only to watch them die
as the invisible ones do in the vase on the table
and blows kisses into the dark
to lie awake dreaming what ifs.
But in reality, what ifs never exist
and love is but a fleeting butterfly
replaced by heartburn and creaking knees.
So the romantic returns to the wreck
and pretends not to care that she cares
and each day’s dawn brings sorrow and heartbreak anew.
_____________________________________________________________
I’ve thought of you
often lately my friend
wondering how you fare
so very far from home
somewhere among the stars.
I hope you have good company
and that you have found what you are missing.
I have found what I was seeking
and lo, it slipped through my fingers like so many teardrops.
Come home,
I beg you.
Please
I am lonely without you
please.
I don’t know of anything else I have to say,
so I’ll kiss you goodnight and extinguish the light.
_____________________________________________________________
With my little blue pen
facing my blue wall
on a blue line
lying on a blue bed
in a very blue world
I try
no
attempt
to transfer my blues
to paper and out of my heart.
A task proving to be impossible.
_____________________________________________________________
You love me
I know, I do not doubt
I simply look into your eyes and know.
Lately though, your eyes are shut in sleep
and your glances are meaningless.
You provide for us and help out,
but there is something more I am am desperate for.
I was taught to do unto others, so I do unto you.
I do your laundry, and grocery shop, and garden and bank
and I tell you I love you
perhaps too much and too often
It has been so long,
I can’t remember when your lips did not reciprocate, but initiated.
I need to know
I am sad
I am unhappy
I am lonely
I need you
I am desperate.
_____________________________________________________________
I am contemplating
writing my next poem
on your shoulder
but maybe not
If you woke you may
not appreciate your status as a literary work
and the ink might come off
on the sheet, but not in the shower.
Perhaps, one day you will decorate
my body with love poetry
and verses of romance.
Until then,
the pen is on my dresser.
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Lonely - March 17, 1997
January 20th, 2009 by Karen
There is a man walking by the riverside
staring at the water’s edge
watching it flow
always away
into the nothingness that is the sea.
Ponderously it swirls among the reeds
unwilling to meet its destiny
its death.
He sighs forlornly and turns up the well worn path
where the grass grows unchecked
and the wildflowers mix
with the weeds
nodding in the quiet breeze.
Stooping, he picks a single daffodil
her favorite always
yellow petals and the orange cup
brightly smiling on the window sill
above the sink.
Wearily, his pace slows until he stops
the name escapes his lips
whispered upon the wind
and it swirls away
into the mists of the cemetary.
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March 13, 1997
January 20th, 2009 by Karen
I can’t deny my feelings for you
I want you back
but I want you to be happy
and I know you aren’t with me.
I want to hold you tightly
but that you can’t allow.
I need to be needed by you
but you need me to leave.
I don’t know if you realize the battle I am in
as friend as lover as whatever you want me to be today
I can’t let go of my feelings for you
like it seems you have done for me
I refuse to become like the others, obsessed
with having you near
but my hear is telling me otherwise
I am so full of anger
and sadness
and love
for you… but…
I know that doesn’t matter now.
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Take Me Home
January 20th, 2009 by Karen
The dying sun
paints a blanket of light
slipping off the cooling hills.
The stars flicker
like brightly lighted candles,
brilliant diamonds set in black velvet night.
The church steeple points straight to heaven,
the swirling mist dances with the breath of God.
The perfection of the valley,
the town nestled in nature’s hands
a blemish on the immaculate earth.
This is where I belong.
Summer sun and winter moon,
the starry night drowning in silence,
the burning tree in heaven’s coolness.
The eyes that are not there
but still know the darkness of my soul.
His eyes.
Depth beyond canvas.
The blackness of my soul, eternal peace.
I am home.
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