My Words

My words desert me
as does my courage.
I am ineffectual
when I need most
to be supportive.

She's liable to topple
with the wrong word
spoken without malice.
Once the damn breaks,
repairs are difficult.

It would be my wish
that things aren't
what they are, but alas,
there's no escape
from what must be.

I only hope she knows
that I am that endless
supply of bandaids
and will be ready
should the need arise.

Round Robin 8

and threw herself, wildly,
on the mercy of the flames.
Where the fire burned,
the old shriveled skin
peeled away and fell.
She was a slithering snake,
shedding its old skin
and growing into the new.

She basked in the heat
from the flames and gained
strength from the inferno.
At the same time, though,
she knew that she must drag
herself from her playground.
Should she stay too long,
she would dry up and shrivel
again into her former self.

The crone, now young and beautiful,
used her staff to pull herself
away from the forest. It was slow
going because the forest had taken
a life of its own and reached out
to keep her within its grasp.
She had to fight the force within
the trees as well as the force
within herself. It became
a battle for survival.

Round Robin 7

There's a sad premonition I dread
that thickens the air like Winter's frost
slipping through the apparent weaknesses
of my being. I shudder violently
at the thought of the long, cold days ahead
where we must fight the elements
along with our own demons within.

The omen of spring is the only thing
that keeps me sane. The hint of warmth
eventually penetrating through me
keeps me plodding along these snowy tracks.
Winter is the death of the land.
Fortunately, it is always followed by rebirth.
Only this sustains me. Only this comforts me.

During the shorter days and longer nights,
I find solace snuggled in blankets. His body
sparks internal fires that remind me life
is precious. I feel more alive at those times
than simply existing until the sun shines
through and melts the ice caps of my heart.
There is hope, still, for tomorrow.

Neglect

I've neglected you for much too long.
Today, I want to atone--make it right.
Forgive my lack of sensitivity
to the needs you have shown clearly
in the sinking of the sun
below the horizon.

Many times, I was able to pay my respects
without needing an excuse. That's the way
it should be; that's how I want it.
Life interferes and time runs out
and things just never get around
to happening. But, I'm here

to make up for the oversight. I make
sure I dot my eyes and cross my teas
and beg that you forget the neglect.
I came today and wrote without reason.
Yeah, it doesn't make much sense
but its real. It is here.

Word Spill

Words spill from my brain
and soak the paper with ideas.
Sometimes they trickle forward
as a gentle brook tucked
serenely in the woods.

Then there are those days
where the water faucet never
turns off. Words demand
and take a life of their own.
I allow them to live.

I don’t have a choice.