Poetry



Late October

Sunshine drips from mottled yellows and reds,
their dying lights evening, reflects sunset,
catches a hint of purple, left over
greens of summer. Scattered across the drive
sidewalk blanketed, they crunch under foot,
play my personal sound track, with neither
symphony nor rock band, just late robins
wondering where everyone else has gone.

Pink skies brighten to azure without clouds
darken to violet as cold settles in.
It’s the season to harvest ripened fruit
and prepare for winter’s chilly long nights.

I delay the rake, set aside bagging
and delight in the disarray of fall.

~

Siobhan
10/28/14


Heart-frozen, tears turn to sleet – crystallized
salt tracks on red cheeks, an outline of pain
all too familiar. This time of year is
not among her favorites. Merry Christmas
and a happy New Year are foreign words
to a tongue twisted with memories.

Yet, as days grow longer, whispers of snow
replace the sting of words that splintered vows
with false confessions of love – too little
too late – forgotten. Broken silent
promises begin to fade; shattering
her patterns, left over from years ago.

A sense of falling – forward, not back, stirs
new resolve; opens possibilities.

Siobhan
12/30/13


November Winds

Each year, I fight against the Solstice tide
find my way out of its darkness – once more.
One moment I am moving forward – then
memory spins me around, throws me back.

A draft of leaves offers me direction
carries my gaze skyward from horizon
to clear blue – the beauty of autumn comes
through in red-yellow-gold fractured patterns.

Then, no longer shadow-bound, I step in
color-deep sidewalks, slip from rain puddle
to puddle. Emotions swirl together
leaving me lightheaded, tossed like a leaf

in November winds. Sunshine confuses
heartaches from the past – leaving them behind.

~ Siobhan
11/20/13


Rearview Mirror

The stoplight wasn’t nearly long enough;
I only caught a glimpse in the rearview.
Not enough time to drink in his image –
left thirsty, only a sip of blue eyes
(were they blue beyond my imagining?)

No cigarette dangled from crimson lips
– which only made me want to taste them more.
With no idea of height, just a hint
of stature by his casual posture
leaning against window and steering wheel.

Red turned green – envy my destination
as he disappeared around the corner.
I just passed, too shy to reverse my course.
He will remain in my rearview mirror.

~Siobhan
11/18/13


Black River Water

 

Colors washed from the day run together;

river water darkens from green to black.

My mood, captured in the dimming sky light,

grey mixed with muted brown, is overcast.

 

Winter’s approaching brings with it sorrow

unshakable – even after these years

of tears, rants, and raves, followed by healing

wounds that break open with a touch of past.

 

Time spent wandering among trees, along

river bank and deserted beach, provides

respite – a path to remembering you.

 

And although we never walked along here;

I find you blended in muted color,

our love in the deep black river water.

 

~

Siobhan

11/18/2013



Strength of a Memory

Moments come and go when the ache for you
is so intense, I’m certain I will burst
into flame; the longing to caress you,
taste you, saturates me, my every pore;
my mouth waters at the thought of your mouth.

Strangely, my body does not remember
other hands and mouths, other intimate
partners with the strength of your memories –
perhaps their passion did not run as deep
for me – desire not as evident.

I wonder how long it will take for these
sensations to run their course, fade away
– parts of me (yes those) don’t want it to end;
others hope its soon for sanity’s sake.

~ Siobhan
1/23/13


Three Haiku for a Winter Cold

Except for hot tea
and toast; her winter meal is
imaginary

~

Eyes burn and throat-sore,
she stumbles, falls to the couch –
a winter coma.

~

The room spins briefly
before everything goes dark;
enter winter cold.

~
Siobhan
1/15/13


Smile

She rolls over in bed at the soft sound …
his voice; it’s not close – perhaps not even
really there. A conversational tone
with a hint of laughter. Her lips curving
to a smile in her half-awake sleep state.

A smile of memory, a smile of her
remembered desire. As her mind wakes
to it, the smile fades a little – yet
it doesn’t disappear. He hasn’t gone;
just vanished from her immediate life.

He hovers around the edges, a piece
of past she hasn’t let go of – hasn’t
wanted to let go of…not yet – maybe
never. She still holds on – to his smile.

~
Siobhan
1/12/13


Forgotten Enough

Each stroke becomes a slap, the sting of words
bruises flesh just caressed; desire’s ache
turns to ire and passion dissipates.
Her body is, being freely given
to him,
questioned at its curves. Attraction
seen in another’s eyes sparks suspicion.

Platitudes of trust ring hollow, she is
faithful; he has few doubts, it’s not in her
he sees deceit – so he says.  Be patient.
Past lives haunt them with cruel memory;
each has given, only one forgiven
(or forgotten) enough to start anew.

Yesterday’s misery destroys today,
they pay the price of loving and losing.

~
Siobhan
11/15/12


Little KissesThe Kiss

A close up of their kiss haunts her; a piece
she can no longer see.  Memories cloud
her vision – no matter which way it’s turned.

The lines and blotches of his face blend – blur
together, become smooth, rough, those textures
to seek with her lips, taste and taste again.

She can smell his scent mingling with hers.
She wants to see him clearly. She wants to
examine the entire image – Klimt
imagined it all before in colors
of ocher, umber, gold; man and woman
captured on canvas, locked in an embrace.

This new artist has narrowed his focus,
now all that is visible is the kiss.

~

Siobhan
09/1/2012

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