revised from some undated beginning

Pins and Needles
 
Her aggravation penetrates the world
around her, denial an easy trip.
Heart racing, breath quick, emotions running
in a perpetual state – confusion –
she reaches out, steadies
herself on a cold wall – reality.
 
Not always her friend yet ever mindful
of the need to wake her from fantasies,
it shakes her from the escape. Memory
clouded behind the snow, tossed by the wind,
elicits warmth along with prickly pain;
a sleeping limb full of pins and needles.
 
On these mornings she wants to run away,
back to yesterday, when she didn’t know.
 
 
Siobhan
02/09/10

 

it’s that first line, I love the words together

February’s Grey
 
When the November sky is October
blue and the breeze is a warm September,
I can taste that time we kissed. Chicago
in the rain and Paris with its heat wave,
hold memories no one else shares with me.
 
The warmth of your palms following the curve
of my waist and hips, caressing my cheek;
finger tips trailing rain drops down between
my breasts – your touch still ignites desire,
even across this span of years gone by.
 
February’s grey colors in my moods,
doesn’t heed the lines or form, scribbling,
erasing, on a whim, pieces of life
the way it was, leaving me with today.
 
 
Siobhan
02/05/10

 

waiting for spring thaw

February Skies

Captured in the frozen shallows,
winter shadows hide
the warmth of her heart from all
who would touch it.

Longing not lessened,
nor music silenced,
her off-key lilt and grace
seized by the season’s cruelty, she is
fragile as crystal, easy
to shatter.

Rippled ice reflects a memory –
a face haloed by sunshine,
brilliant blue darkened
by February skies.

Stilled within,
a piece of time held

suspended

waits

for spring’s thaw.

 
Siobhan
2/2/10

 

Order a salad for me…

The Sandwich Generation

We’re in-between soft pliability,

our children growing and rising to each
challenge as they take shape in their own right
yet still needing some of our attention;

and the slices of our parents’ lives, those

years filled with experience and flavors
we’ve yet to taste. At times putting on hold
our desires, pushing down ambitions

as we adjust the tension, temperaments
and pace of our lives to those around us.

Afraid of a hollow response, we ask
to be let into those worlds not our own.
Sandwiched between generations, we wait
for the smile and the “I love you, too.”

Siobhan
1/22/2010

 

Let’s get out of here…

Hospital Sheets

I deplore the white sheets in hospitals,
sterile backdrops for the ill. They provide
too much contrast for a loved one’s pallor,
showing jaundice or highlighting the flushed.

Beige or ecru would mask the sheen of sick,
swallowing the bloodless, washing away
the remnants of summer’s faded tan lines.

She could be seen as regal, almost calm,
grey hair, not blue-rinsed, brushed off strong features,
if not for the lines etched around closed eyes,
lips pinching in grimace with each movement.
Her classic beauty hidden by the pain.

She belongs in pastels or bold color,
not the starched blankness of hospital sheets.

Siobhan
1/20/2010

 

Life’s path

Along the Border
Foggy tricks twist memory into its own
comfort zone; never mind the lines along
the border – reality pulls her deep
into the tangled mess with confusing
turns until no escape seems possible.
 
She has to close her eyes to see clearly.
Her imagination no longer plays
the dreams and fantasies; she does not want
romanticized versions of desires,
pleasure, pain, passion mingled together.
 
Standing in the middle of the crossroads,
his image seeps through the misted hours
before sunlight. She holds on to his smiles
and allows the fog to capture her own.
 
 
Siobhan
01/19/10

 

When it gets cold outside…

French Blue Skies
 
She recalls French blue skies when cold invades
and being alone is unbearable;
they are her sanctuary in winter.
 
When he was present, the grey washed away.
Even when distanced by thought, he was still
wrapped inside her heart; she took him with her
to work each morning, to her bed at night.
 
A silent traveling partner, he shared
the sight of ocean below the plane,
lights atop the Eiffel Tower at dusk,
croissants and dark coffee laced with cream –
the enjoyment of a Paris café.
 
She journeyed alone thousands of miles,
to find her way back into love again.
 
 
Siobhan
1/15/2010

 

At the edge of each

Strangers
 
Mesmerizing – eyes that speak in those words
only he and she understand, although
others try, their interpretation falls
short of the truth, something she will never
understand (not that she comprehends it
any better.) His charm captivates – yet
memories surface at the edge of each
step forward, pull her back before she can
connect with the intrigue that is around
him. She releases, lets fantasy go.
 
He whispers in a stranger’s language, soft,
meant to tempt and tease, taunt and entice her
into the comfort of familiar arms,
the warmth of love – lost, only to be found.
 
Siobhan
1-11-10

 

It’s not always visible to the naked eye

Her Companion
 
Cold slices through sinew – separates – rips
muscle from bone, shoots the body with pain.
Adrenaline pumps across nerve endings;
wreaks havoc on her ability to
breathe, move, survive the everyday motion
of life. They can’t see the effects. Her smile
hides a grimace, tears quickly blink away;
this routine has become reality.
 
She is an expert at accepting this,
the sensation of carving knives running
along the edge to fillet thin pieces
of flesh from shoulders, arms, across her back
and down each leg; rarely the same place twice
in one hour – always her companion.
 
 
Siobhan
01-06-10

 

through the fog

When Dark Stands Still
 
She is surrounded by love, desire,
passion for her. This new sensation crowds
out the old, eases its way in, daring
her to accept reality. Her fears,
pushed aside, linger to be found again.
 
In time, when dark stands still, then tumbles back
to that place where she reaches out desperate
for hope and faith, he wraps her in his arms
(having waited to hold her; his love strong
enough to catch her tears, patience stronger).
 
Her heart a fractured muscle both battered
and trust-bruised, thought unable to heal.
Gentle caresses coax her back to life,
and she knows she’ll keep going – even now.
 
Siobhan
1/4/10