|
Mood
Processor
Sitting here listening to Tim belt
out
live like you were dyin
on the radio. I say- I am, I am,
can't you see? Except then I
feel like I'm dyin' when
Clapton
comes on and starts crying about
tears in heaven.
Funny how songs slice the heart
with carving
knives then turn
the cutting board over and hammer
you with the hustle before your tears
are dried and you can
catch your breath.
That's hard work, man. Like tenderizing
a piece of meat--muscle, your heart.
When I have
a chance to breathe, I reach
for a cigarette, and my foot's tapping out
a beat to myself-like a brickhouse, man I
love to groove to that song. Bouncing in
my chair I wonder if my webcam is on,
doesn't matter cause I checked
my watch
and it's time for my meds and Freebird is on now.
© 9/2005 SB
Untitled
I look for you here, a different
beach, a different day. Wading
through tourists, and kids at play.
I scattered your essence out
to the sea; to drift the ocean's
currents, as you wished to be.
I wonder
how many times you've
been round the world since then;
dolphins and whales, new friends.
It's your arms carressing
me as
I swim. A loving, though fleeting
reminder, until we meet again.
*for
my husband~RIP*
©Susan Britton/2005
Of Dragonflies and Thoughts
The breeze caresses
my skin softly
as I sit and my thoughts wander.
There are things buzzing by I don't
see, but hear. My mind so very
far
away in a different time and realm.
A land familiar, yet never visited.
There is a glimmer through the sunlight,
that
makes my head turn just so..to look.
Iridescent wings beating furiously as the
insect flies left to right, then hovers.
A
dragonfly, then two. Dancing their version
of love, in complete cadence with the other.
The sun-kissed wings have
me enthralled
in the beauty of their own rhythm and style.
The way they stay so close, yet never touch.
A parry,
a thrust, retreat, advance. So clever.
I lose myself once more in my far away realm,
but they come with me, leading
the dance.
© 3/17/05sqb
Passages
Sailing
through life like
a ship hewing the oceans.
Bowing deeply in reverance
to the gods and goddess'
holding court
below.
I hit a rock.
Trying to manuever my way
off the rock I foundered, listing
to and fro with the ebbing
tide.
The pain of the hole in my chest
made me aware of the danger I
was in.
I patched the hole.
And
so the tide came in and I
floated off the rock. Very mindful
of my patched hole and the
water seeping in. The further
I
drifted, the deeper I sank.
The hole filled up with water.
I was drowning. I gasped for a
mouthful
of air as each wave
crashed upon me. I didn't think
I could hold on much longer,
the ship was going down.
Ahoy
there!
A lifeline! A stranger lends a hand.
Bails out my ship, medicates my
wound with laughter and empathy.
I
check for leaks and find a trickle
of tears. I quickly cover the crack.
It seeps, but very slowly now.
Sailing
together.
Side by side we sail, my patchwork
holding up. As the bow points towards
heaven I ride each crest with
glee.
At times I pull ahead, other times he does.
Moving forward nonetheless, the spray
from the sea washes us clean.
Berthed
for the night.
Under the silence of the stars we drop
anchor. Sails lowered and folded neatly.
As we share a
meal and warm brandy we
smile in the darkness, the slight rocking
of the boat joins the beating of our hearts.
A
nightbird calls, what a lovely sound.
© 12/28/04 sqb
DANCE
OF LIFE
What do you do
when you realize
you've survived
against all odds?
What do you do
when you realize
you fought the
battle and won?
...deep breath
now. except then
i was trying
to remember to breathe...
In my heart you
will live as long as I live.
I thank you for
the time you spent with me,
a lifetime within
it's own world.
Our dance is
over and though the moon
is full, Van
Morrison sings on for others.
My future is
a blank canvas waiting to be
painted. Bright
colors only, with laughter and
good times allowed.
...black shroud
thrown off. they say i've made it, did i do it right i wonder...
My soul is renewed,
peace prevails,
I am a member
of the club, having done
battle
with the abyss and here to tell about it. Observing all with the wisdom born of grief, rites of passage: Ms, Mrs...
widow, yes, that's
the one.
Hope eternal,
I know you exist in a parallel
realm. We visit,
you and I, when I am still.
You come into
our bed and love me with a
passion born
of loss. I have to separate reality and dreams, who knew it would be so hard?
..."you've changed,
you're different now."
yes, i sent death
away for i want to live...
Moving forward
now, I've earned the right.
I can hear music
playing and the moon is
full. He asks
me to dance and I accept.
Held close, feet
floating, we dance for life.
© 5/4/04
sqb
I
Call him Dr. Couch
Doctor of Psychiatry
is what's written
beneath
his name on the
sign.
Trepidation abounded
as I
entered this
unknown chapter
of medicine,
into his office.
I stopped short
and gaped.
"You have a couch!"
I said with
disbelief. "People
keep telling
me that." he
replied.
From that point
on he's been
Dr. Couch to
me. Sometimes I
dislike him,
sometimes I like him.
We spar with
words as I try and
trip him up.
Today I asked
him, "Does anyone
actually lay
on this couch?"
He said no and
I thought to
myself...but
it's a couch.
© 5/6/04
sqb
|
|
| TIME WAITS FOR NO MAN...OR WOMAN |
Deliverance
The line in the
sand became a trench.
The tables turned
upon those who seek
to deliver peace
and truth.
The trench has
become a grave, deep
enough to hide
the masses.
The truth rings
hollow, reality harsh and ugly.
Cannot be swept
away by rules
and platitudes.
Screaming for resignations,
accountability,
pointing fingers stretch.
Today parents
mourn another loss.
Their bloodline
and legacy snuffed out,
the part to plant
a kiss upon missing.
A reminder of
the mission of those who
seek to deliver
peace, truth and freedom.
Freedom from
domination, persecution,
tryanny. Each
side praying to the same
entity for deliverance,
with their own
interpretation
of justice and righteousness.
Symphony of wailing
heard 'round the world.
Desert mothers
shrouded in black, answering
the cry of black-clad
mothers on another shore.
Foaming frenzy,
media blitz, guns and tanks;
children underfoot.
A psychiatric nightmare.
Humanity bleeding,
fading...it all runs red.
Do they know
that, I wonder, the seeping color
that makes us
one with each other. Deep in the
chest the adrenaline
pumps the fiery blood that
shouts for freedom,
peace, revenge.
Allah's will
be done, and God Bless America.
© 5/11/04 sqb
Vacation
My third day at the same spot
on the right side of the beach.
If you get here early enough
you can stake your claim.
Blinding white sand and cool
trade winds, the water is clear
down to sixty feet. The waiters
and waitresses start their rounds.
"Drink from the bar?" "Pina Colada,
Rum Punch?" It's only 9 am, but
why the hell not? I'm on vacation.
"Yes, and come back in fifteen."
Frosty and cold, I feel the
rum coursing through my body.
The smell of suntan lotion and
the beat of Calypso in the air.
Feeling free I slip into the water,
the coolness is welcome and it
envelops me. I swim, and dive
and twirl in total abandonment.
I walk out feeling the sand
between my toes. The waiter is
back, his dreadlocks swinging.
I accept another frosty glass.
What the hell, I'm on vacation.
© 5/21/04 sqb
Moonlight Sonata
I watched the moon rise tonight
and thought of you. It was full
and bright, like the love that
shines in your face.
As it rose higher I thought of us.
Worlds apart yet connected on a
celestial plane of exisitance, you and I.
It paused for a second on it's journey,
behind a palm, whose feathery fronds
reminded me of how your lips would
feel on my skin.
The gentle lap of the water makes me imagine
the rhythym of your heartbeat next to mine.
The reflection of soft moonlight illuminating
the way for our love.
The moon conintues it's destined path
and I send with it my desire for you
to join me on a distant shore.
© 2004/sqb
| 
