No Name

Age 21

Ghosts and goblins
crept, and paused
at my doorstep,
attempting to taint
my sanity with their
invisible hands.
I almost let them.



May 3, 1977

Age: 19

His Point of View

Little blonde girl
with eyes of brown,
Why do you wear that thorny crown?
Why do your eyes brim with tears?
Why? Do you echo the pain of your years?

Just hear my words -
wait 'till I'm through.
Sit there and hear
my point of view...

The summer breeze is calling me
to a far-off field and land.
I must follow its calling -
I cannot take your hand.

You would not be a burden,
but could hinder my quest
for a brighter tomorrow.
I just cannot rest.

Promises may be broken
like a glass window pane,
shattering and cracking -
letting in the rain.

The words we spoke weren't words in the wind.
You were my love.
You were my friend.

I gave you no promises
to attach to your heart:
commitments are like scissors,
slicing hearts apart.

We were pieces of the universe,
interrupting space and time -
spending moments of our lifetimes
in toasts of fruited-wine.

But, like the sweetness of the wine
that slowly warms our throats,
the taste may be too sweet
to make another toast.

So, I'll leave the taste behind -
for when we meet anew -
the memory of the sweet,
will bring me back to you.



It's Only Business

Afternoon heat
hits heavy.
So do the boys in the backroom.
Ties and Topcoats
can't disguise the beasts.
Claws leave deep scars on office walls.
Eyes gleam for the taste of flesh
and the hunt.
I've been marked.
The next victim?
I found my wings.

July 1984


The safety of cover

I look around me -
All seems clear,
Yet, I wonder what I'm doing here.
My heart pulls left,
My soul pulls right,
I search for cover under dead of night.
Can he see the love in my eyes for another?
Or, does he too look for the safety of cover?
I long to be free free from these feelings complex,
The questions and fears that this love has undressed.
My dreams brought me peace,
Wrapped in gardens of love.
But life always seems simple when viewed from above.
My heart won't be still,
My mind won't unwind -
I'm caught in the middle between
Illusions and time.
Can he see the love in my eyes for another?
Or, does he too look for the safety of cover?




The 'paper' Anniversary

My husband and I will be married 5 years on the 16th of September! Yahoo!! I love him so much and often think that our years together have stretched beyond these 5 years of married life. We've experienced joy, pain, hope, illness, resignation, faith and so many other feelings that a couple doesn't need to experience during such a short time as a married couple. But, I can honestly say, that these trials have been a melding force between us: a melding of love, support and belief in tomorrow. At one point during this past winter, I wrote him a poem to reflect the struggles and fears in the future. I've added it here.


Life is full of snowstorms,
hail and pouring rain,
all the roads we thought we knew
no longer look the same.

Ruts and bumps appear to grow
On pathways we held dear.
And we can’t clearly see through fog
into the coming year.

But, I remember clear skies -
sun and breezes cooled the air.
When paths were made for climbing
And love held not a care.

When stones were thrown from mountains,
and laughter filled our minds
as rain poured down upon us -
the cold New England kind.

But, life is now a bundle
of clouds and cold and gray,
That seem to sprinkle stress and pain into every other day.

But, then as I remember
the stone flying from my hands,
I recall how much you've loved me
Through my own storms and winds.
I remember midnight prayers
for your presence in my life
And I look down at my hand -
the ring that made me your wife.

So, when storms ride o'er the horizon
and temps drop to frigid degrees,
please always know that I love you
through winter and warm summer breeze.



Haves and Have Nots

sitting in a laundromat.
at 4PM.
on a summer day.
laughing at life around you.
the quarters and dimes must be gold
to your starving eyes.
you drink the remains of a pepsi can
and lick crumbs from the table.
once another's food.
at night you return
to your salvation army box.
to sleep between torn and tattered clothes.
donations of the rich?
and i sleep on clean, fresh linens.
feeling unhappy
because the blisters
on my toes
are sore.

June 1977



Fretful Friday

Fretful Friday here again,
start to worry
remember when...
bus stations and soot, grime, grease
overflowing with people
that can't find peace.
walking and talking,
making no sense
old woman, old man - Can you lend a six-pence?
kind sir with coffee
for me and for you.
help with your bag?
thank you. I'm blue.
new bus, new people, faces and names.
stuck in hot traffic.
celluloid frames.
gotta get to the ocean.
gotta see surf and sand.
can't wait to swim freely,
with my friend's helping hand.
i'm late, i'm late for a very important date.
gotta get these wheels rollin'
gotta move this old crate.

May 27, 1977