Category: Poetry

Close your eyes and shut them tight. Don’t ever peek. Danger is close. From the moment you speak, to the last breath you take, don’t ask for more and don’t question. Hold the memories and grip them with strength. They may soon be gone and never return. Circumstances aren’t what they used to be. Your

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I will not compare you to any four-legged animal. Nor will I compare you to any two-legged human. It isn’t right to compare you to someone better. It isn’t nice of me to contradict what you say. I will remain close-mouthed, tiptoeing as a mouse. Space is what you need from me, and nothing else.

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Mirror, mirror, not on the wall, but behind the door, who is the ugliest of them all? It can’t be me, not him, not her, not my friend, not my enemy. Can it? Mirror, mirror, hidden by a covering, full of five inches of dust, why are you so cruel? It mustn’t be me, be

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one hour in a time of need, the one i most rely on is gone, i am alone without an objective, the time is almost near. who shall i turn to now? two more hours until my strength offers up, to the resistant violent winds and waves, no one stands straight anymore, slouching toward the

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Pick up the phone, no one answers. I miss you already, and search for a dial tone. On a cold night, the heat rises too high. Quell the sadness by any means. Unnecessary to state the obvious. There is no headstone and no etched name. Only a dying city.

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Looking in the tall mirror, your vision short. Lagging behind, not ready to move. Hold the bar tight like super glue. Twirl around more than once. Now stop, I’m getting dizzy. It’s amazing you have survived.

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Open up wide, deeper. Here I come, ready or not. Grab me with your fingers. Spin me in circles on your palm. Easy now, so I don’t fall. It’s a wonder you are alive.

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Motorcycle or car, I see them. One riding next to the other, or one sitting beside the other. Don’t look at them for they might return the stare. It’s not safe to ride alone, for them or me but I do. They never are interested in me. I must be doing something right. Always ahead

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My need for cleanliness broke the toaster. I could not have done it all by myself. My neurosis jabbed deeper into my brain. I had to get out the crumbs. My need to get that last piece of toast. I was stuck in the four corners too. My psychosis whispered into my ear. I hear

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I leaned and put my finger to my temple, all my energies gathered in one place, overwhelmed by the definite departure, my brain has slowed. How much control is left for me? My death might bring greater reward, but I won’t know until it happens, and then it will be too late to go back

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When I took the first step, it did not feel right. The moon had not appeared, the stars were not guiding me. Her name was Eyonte, I remember it clearly. Hair that was golden brown. The way she wrote e in her name. Eyont-e! Oh, Eyont-e! How much I miss hearing it too. Why did

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Living takes courage. Yes, it does. A little bit of humor too. There was never less of me and more of you. Living to the fullest can’t be seen from far away. Only close up. Definitely closer is better. We taste the bitter pills doctors give us to be strong. What is strength? What is

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The book arrived and beyond excited to smell the cover, To open the book to the middle and gloss over the page. Those masterful written words by a masterful writer. His name was Ernest Hemingway. He was a jerk too. Mental illness ran in his family including suicidal thoughts. I can put his negative traits

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