January 25, 2015

swaying to the bittersweet segues
memories can bring

rapid fall

plunge to the bliss
just before the rocks below

halt time
stay there for awhile
before it became a regret
before the let go


January 25, 2015

that shrill
tensile wire thrill
right note
tight rope between shills
way of eyes meeting

and somehow
there is recognition

they call it love at first sight
but I think it’s more than that

there’s got to be a way
of souls finding their way
back together

even as the bodies change
the souls remain the same
cast off into stardust
before being pulled
back into existence again

a form of soul echolocation
pinpointing the resonance
of that ancient familiar companion
whom you’ve travelled
eternity with

and you know when you have found them
by the look in their eyes
an immensity
that is unexplained
but quite remains
a journey beyond time

mirror the situation

January 25, 2015

mirror the situation
I know what is expected of me
act accordingly
I know it without a word
I have known it since I was born
the will of the other is a pressure to which I have often conformed

to resist
is to exist under the crux
of a tidal wave
and to obey is the great relief
the safe cave
the home away from home
amid the danger zone

I have watched the tiger
prowl its cage
and taught myself
to be underestimated
while in its lair

I have done the same
when the bars
came into my mind
in the times
when I was my own prey

slight separation
isolation true
I’ve known the safety
of four walls
I’ve known the echo
in the most desperate of sobs

mirror the situation
slink down and out
by what ought to do
and survive for one more day
nothing breaks
when there’s nothing left to lose

I have always known what is expected of me
only now that I’ve met the Minotaur
and called her my love
I can stop running the maze
and being frightened of myself

raise the child to shame
and she will reign over herself
until there is nothing left
that she can do right

raise the child to fear
and he will smile to tears
he will know the weight of the sunset
falling heavy on his shoulders
burning him to dust
as the dark dims down
all his light

raise the child
with the tiger
and the child will chase her own tail
until she catches it
begin to eat herself

there is a calmness
to love
the real thing
not that possessiveness

there is a healing
to love
a transformation
a renewal
a part of love that goes beyond time
and heals the oldest of wounds

I found love inside myself
I dug deep enough
to let it out

and here I am
let go of the tiger
let go of the expectations
let go of the collected sand
let the tide come in
I am ready and always have been

settle into the silt

January 24, 2015

settle into the silt
this river’s deep

sometimes eroding the banks

other times washing out
all the roads home

calmer underneath

stranded on the sidewalk

January 23, 2015

she’s huddled against the wind
stranded on the sidewalk
bags strewn around her
fingers numbing in the cold
as she claws through her handbag
for a lighter
the unlit cigarette
perched between her lips
mocking her
as addiction
takes precedence
over the rest of existence

I step into the snow bank
moving around her
thinking affection
is addiction
in its own right
the heartbroken
stranded on sidewalks
searching for someone to love
forgetting the world
paralyzed by need

sign says

January 19, 2015

sign says
24 kilometres on the right

the words underneath
“You belong here”
has me thinking of
home and belonging

what is home?
beside a particular

is it a feeling of presence in the present?
a security?
a familiarity?
a sense of safety?

I don’t know exactly
except that home
feels a lot like déjà vu

face stinging

January 18, 2015

face stinging
used body wash
to replace
face wash

to high up
in the shower caddy
to bother
reaching for

laxing in this tub
I am resigned lazy
designated sloven

the perfumes irritate
my face enraged

turn around
and the gleaming salvation
bottle of high praise
sensitive skin
face wash
was behind me
the whole time

sitting there
on the edge of the tub
all along

by my liar mind
instead of using my own eyes
I didn’t look
I just assumed

that damn bottle
was always out of reach
genies always are

by the designated autopilot
I deserve
these red pores of outrage

cords & chords

January 17, 2015

to bind
in physical

to bind
in spirit

all of us

among us

statistical similarities:
we each move
we each act
we each live
in our own ways

cords & chords
connect us


January 16, 2015

maybe we are the ghosts?

can you see us?
wandering through
I wonder if you watch
us struggle
and try to give us
the peace
you’ve realized

but epiphanies
are not gifts
so simply handed over
try as you might
to guide us
we must find our own ways
of figuring it ALL out

so you watch us
as we haunt
our lives away

skittering out
through the dark
sheltered from the sun

your hearts full
of all you know
reaching out
to put a hand on our shoulder
to let us know we are not alone
we are not comforted

maybe we are the ghosts
haunting you so
disturbing your peace

-N. R. Ford-

without that tree

January 15, 2015

don’t feel lucky to know them
when they leave
just feel abandoned

feel the wind
through the trees
can’t see the forest

staring at a fallen
it was such a giant

didn’t make a sound
as it went down

vacuum of absence
screams peeled

my vocal chords
the knell
but nothing heard

violates me

can’t see the forest
without that tree


Life in words

elena xtina

poetry & memoirs

Im ashamed to die until i have won some victory for humanity.(Horace Mann)



The Identification of me Through Words


All the birds and sharks have started to sing.

WILDsound Writing and Film Festival Review

Feature Screenplay, TV Screenplay, Short Screenplay, Novel, Stage Play, Short Story, Poem, Film, Festival and Contest Reviews

Elan Mudrow

The Ridges of Intertextuallity


Musings on man, mojos, and mamon

Subdued Flamboyance

Paradoxes of Life

Surviving the Doom

Surviving the Doom


A collection of nonsensical words thrown together

Beautiful Life with Cancer

Discovering the Gift

sheila sea poetry

like thalassic velvet


Writing & Poetry Journal of T. Wong

We. See Hope

'Expect With Confidence. Never Give Up Hope. It's Just The Beginning'


Words, words, words

Sara C Roethle

Author and Part Time Unicorn

a wretched rome

a living room of space for our words.


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