Under a painted sky / I did spend the last days / With stories of old / As my only company / Who will remember me / When at last I pass / Will …
A poem inspired by my photo here , a combined version is coming soon.
“Keeping watch in winter’s twilight…”
Winter has been extremely long for me this year. As I was outside feeding the horses one cold, bleak winter day I was inspired to write this. Thanks for reading!
this moment is eternity
Wind whispers empty words / air lies / tragic melody ..
The only thing I wish to take from here is the sense of being alone. Perhaps I can lock it in a place where it will not ever again find a…
Sometimes in life we find ourselves faced with uncertainty and a sense of being alone. Perhaps there is value in that.
In the fifth room a glass bead game
Throw the heart / like a cricket ball / against the wall / Splat, / leaving red kisses on the white.
Another Love Lost Poem.
Distance comes in more ways / than miles and time / The odd thing about it is / it often bridges small gaps / if gone unnoticed / will seep i…
This Poem is included in my newly published book… / ‘Life Revisited, Poems of the 60s and 70s’ / CLICK HERE FOR PREVIEW
Light of day does nothing but break up the dew / Leaves remember sweet breath of the moon
I am attacked by my mind / Who was once a dear friend
I wrote ‘Sorrow’ at one of my darkest melancholic states. Between desparately wanting to live, yet desparately wanting to die. A paradox! Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door Clean My Wounds
Small fires which are crushed and scattered.
Describing an exceptional depressive bout.
Some examples of my Winter collection.
My heart is crying in the cold…
And please, I beg, from her head to her toes, / That as truly I love her, happiness she knows.
Open to criticism. This was a prayer I wrote at Love’s beck. I don’t know if it’s actually done me any good thus far.. I guess I should comment what is obvious to me in case the reader cannot tell, as the poem is fairly literal. I’m very much in love with this girl. We used to be in a relationship. She’s no longer interested in me. I’m not good at accepting things as “un-do-able,” so I look for things that give me hope.
swept away by thoughts / she stands alone / few secrets never known / her silence thrown a gentle tear takes off / no one will know / blata…
A walk down memory lane at the Warren County Fair…
We went to the county fair tonight where I was bombarded with memories; visual, auditory, tactile, taste and olfactory. It was sensory overload and I was catapulted back in time to the years my family and I spent at the fair every summer. Day in and day out for 6 days and nights, no matter the weather. My brothers entered calves and pigs, I entered sheep one year. Can’t remember if I placed or not, I just remember knowing that afterward I had to sell them. I was never good at letting go and I’m not sure it has gotten any easier over the years. This work is probably testimony to that. My melancholy meanderings express childhood wonder and adult loss. My dad is gone, both brothers have moved away and mom, my husband and I remain planted in the heartland. I uprooted for a time but am grafted back in, longing for the fullness of the family vine. Oh, how my sensitivity to thought, emotion and memory can be my biggest strength, yet my worst weakness; my best friend and my worst enemy. Tonight I suppose it is somewhere in between. It is an enemy when I allow it to capture me and pull me down into the depths for too long. It is a friend when it reminds me who I am and where I come from. It is a friend when it reveals color, light, music, wonder, cool breezes, love of family, the earth and animals. It is a friend when it is for a moment or for a night, but then let go in my dreams. When I awaken to a new day and see there is a life to live; and that life is informed by my past but not lost or stuck in it.
empty faces, blank trains / old eyes staring out / from cold compartments / child-like, clinging / to a once-bright past
life – our lives, how we live. what we fear. jordan busson. 29 July 2009.
I awaken to the beautiful sound of waves crashing onto the shoreline…. That’s when I saw Him for the first time. “But wait!” I sh…
This is a story which was inspired by the actual spirit of the waves which I felt in my heart as they triggered powerful emotions deep inside of me. I have also always adored/been in love with the water. I’ve been so blessed as having had many opportunity to enjoy the leisure & sport of swimming. I am thankful to my heavenly father above for each & every swim I have ever had. Each time I enter the water is new & exciting & is so special to me. I did not plan to write this story…it was delivered to me in my mind. I hope you enjoy the orchestration performed by the emotions from deep inside my being, my spirit, my heart. I give credit to th Lord above for each & every breath…each & every word I have been able to write to give to you. Leilani Melayna Harris
Let your words caress my soul where my darkest anguish lays, / Touch me deeply and completely while I watch you slip away.
A song that’s been swirling in my head that needed a release.
Almost fall, when …
I was inspired on this short verse by a drawing I made for the finks of inks autum challenge, the creature that I am talking it’s on the roof of the house, without a heart.
my mind is slowly being institutionalised / not by iron bars, but by slow cooking predictability / like the frog that stayed too long in th…
I wrote this piece very recently, it was raining and gloomy and I was feeling melancholy at the time. Featured in Live,Love,Dream – 24th Oct 2009
Battered by stormy seas / and waves of black depression, / tendrils of cold despair / seeping into soft, warm flesh.
Melancholy poem
This is no fairy tale.
time flies / she paints her nails with clear polish she remembers / still, her youth slips away she longs / and she wishes for s…
a poem about heart matters
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