Bird poop
Splattered
Everywhere
“This isn’t ideal”
“It’s real”
“Grab my hand,
Watch for the vents”
“Let me catch my breath”
I look at you,
brown dress fluttering with the wind
the scarf round your head
sliding slowly to your neck
Pale pink
I reach to you,
The plastic round our wrists meet
The heat of my hand cools
with the touch of yours
“After, we’ll do all the tours”
Masked expression
Your head sways
Eyes away
Our ringed fingers lace
You say,
“Let’s dance”
So be wary of those in search of glory
For they cling to their height like the wild vine.
There is no shame to be an untold story.
Those who fall for their own vain oratory,
Often die drunk on poisoned wine.
So be wary of those in search of glory.
They can’t be satisfied in lesser territory,
For they foresee their path as divine,
There is no shame to be an untold story.
I reached for heaven, but fell into this purgatory;
And rewrote all dreams once mine
So be wary of those in search of glory.
And thus my life became an allegory,
I reached the sun, burned but didn’t shine.
There is no shame to be an untold story.
But if I become lost in the mist of memory
Know I’ll linger as you feed your own decline.
So be wary of those in search of glory.
There is no shame to be an untold story.
Blood ties cannot be broken
They can be stretched
Across distances traversing
The line of time
The past and present become intertwined
We are the fragments of our ancestors
Possessors of futures undefined
Brought to life in three trimesters
We remain shattered pieces
Spread across a dirt nostalgically yearned
Rivers of crimson mud
Hope is fleeting
Seemingly bleeding
Humanity’s violent storms
Create a world weathered by wars
Create a world of orphans and corpses
Battles can never be won if the prize is covered in blood
The victors stand upon an earth barren and burned
Victory dies when peace ceases
Their destiny is supposed to be ours
But can we turn from it –
a redesign?
Can we be too aware of our own observations
To be persuaded by historical expectations?
A new lost generation–
lost within itself.
A legacy yet etched
On mountains yet climbed
Upon which will you question
Your role in the line of succession
Here on the ground I stand
The place where my eternity lies
Picturesque, the trees and meadow flowers all throughout
A perfect place to die
I chose its isolation
I find solace in its silence
My future hidden tomb
Lost among the violets
I only lived
Under different shades of fear
No friend to be made
Shying from a world so drear
Playing masquerade
I can only imagine a future when you stand here too
Contemplate the lives beneath the other stones
With names, dates, caring words
And wonder about this unknowns’
Born and died a nobody
Unloved in life, unmourned in death
I’ve seen the whole world
Yet still I seek adventures
Somewhere deep – my soul
From birth, it haunts
In search for souls
Hidden in the shadows
Gazing and gazing
Unfazed
Sometimes pouncing
Too soon
Never late
I held her hand
And he, mine
Russian dolls
As empty inside
I see her now
My daughter
Too small, too beautiful
To have the earth cover her.
In a glance — the poet’s mind —
A reflection gazes back
From a frame
Its edges hidden under years of dust
A grim mouth
Tender eyes
A mind of wonder
A mind of answers
Who is this poet
Who claimed to speak sweet words?
To hold the visions of past and future
Immortalized within that silent recollection of an organism gone…
In a glance — the poet’s eyes —
Rage
Click, click, thump, click, thump, thump
This word is not new
This poem is a whisper of years ago
Originality is fake news.
How odd a feeling
To see you now,
After years
Of silence.
A screen door
Locked
Between our worlds
The earthquake of my heart
Has moved to my feet
We didn’t love
A brief brush of hands
Tender words
But you were my world!
Do you remember how fireflies ruled the nights?
We, two travelers, grasping at their guiding lights.
We couldn’t have known that they soon would go
The path that almost was
Is written on the pages
Of a hidden yellow book
Occasionally it opens
To keep it rosy
Your eyes find mine
Smile
She grabs your hand
FJ Vera 