Old poems I

Many of these poems never made it to the main sherrydeanne.com site at all. Coming across some of these very old and mostly bad poetry is the most fun I've had at the computer in a long time :)

Afternoon Storm

The air is as heavy with moisture
As the ocean lying upon its shores,
Shifting unmercifully to expose
The long-lost secret treasure

Chest of broken dreams and
Unkept promises which go filtering
Through the safety net, hoping
To escape and settle in the sand.

Heaving for every gusty breath
The wind opens yet again the gate
Forcing water and air to separate,
Each blow bringing closer his own death.

For when his time to vent is done
And even the storm's lost her will to fight,
The air will finally become light
Drying beneath the patient sun.

Again

I'm going back to do it again.
There's no reason why I should and no reason why I shouldn't.
Funny how we run back to the same (wo)men.
I say we do although you say you didn't.
If you don't run, what do you do then?
When stillness surrounds you and you long for an incident?
Do you scurry away from kids and (wo)men?
Retreat from the world through a bic ink pen?

No, no, of course you wouldn't.

Albatross

No matter the temperature
it is always feverish inside and out
with my cold heart
fighting my burning skin
in the eternal battle
of heart and will and hope
over doubt and fear
and this albatross I keep tethered.

And though I am ready
to cut the cord,
I will always look back quickly,
glancing furtively
and wondering
what this weight was filled with
and if all I’ve truly left
is a piece of myself.

And, For, But, Why?

The wider my eyes, the larger the world, the smaller
I am
Quietly drowning in my own paranoia, and

The further I go, the faster it comes, the older
I get
Lazily sleeping in the worlds indifference, for

The brighter the day, the darker the night, the closer
It is
Gingerly fighting off the worlds obtrusiveness, but

No matter the view, no matter the size
I’ll be
Eagerly waiting for my own significance, why?.

Anniversary

Three wishes on each of a
hundred stars can not equal the
65 times during each of my
days that I am
enthralled by the mixing
of concrete and mortar;
such strength and similarity,
defying the laws of
exponential depreciation,
working in perfect unison
and made more lasting
by their union.

Ascent

Rain falls silently until it meets with resistance,
tapping against leaves,
churning in gutters
although the water may be quiet still, and
the tapping, rushing and churning is being
torn out of whatever stands
in the downpours tumultous path.

That must be it, for it makes no sound during its climb,
gently succombing to the clouds effortless embrace.

If only our ascent were so natural...

Attendre (to wait)

Impatient, early snowflakes melt before
reaching their soft resting place.
Only the trepidatious ones succeed
in feeding the soft embrace.

The early spring‘s suns warmth brings promises:
no fragile plants will be lost
but so often, Mother Nature’s whispers
fail to tame the bitter frost.

Painted leaves form a delicate collage
backdropped against skies of black.
Frigid wind howls as if beckoning, each
soldier in a moot attack.

Waving their swirling flag of surrender
while the ground steals their bright contrast.
Leaders are not always the truly brave:
Often the strongest go last.


May 30, 2002

Baby's Breath

The pendulum swings unfailingly
forcing us forward. If only
it were possible to look back
and alter the fulcrums beat by a
moment
just a baby's breath as the world
inhales
placidity could be restored.

I placate myself with the
thought of being just three steps
ahead or two minutes behind
myself and never meeting the
one
who would eventually steal the baby's
breath
from my dying wildflower bouquet.

Children

We were children
once--
staking ground and our claims,
smiling, flirting, asserting
our attraction at a party.

We were children
once--
when you first held me in your arms,
first knew the sweetness of my lips,
first saw the sweetness of my soul.

We were children
once--
opening to change,
opening to each other,
opening to the possibility.

We were children
once--
and even in this growing up
you and I will always be two
children who fell in love.

Dachau

Walking through the rocky
parking lot, the weight
of the world
gone mad
is tangible but unseen
through trees too brave
to not grow.
All at once the high
barb-wire
electric
fence is everywhere,
TALLER
than the pale building
weighed down
by its contents,
beckoning us.
I freeze at the gate just as
they did at the doors to the
showers, thinking:
I will come back out.
Inside, the foundations of
two dozen buildings,
forgotten before they were built,
overfilled with men, women
and children waiting to die.
I pass by the stone wall
nicked with thousands of
bullet indentations to the
cremetorium which still
reeks
of human flesh.
Unable to take any more I
plan my escape, walking
past trenches now filled
with blood red flowers,
choosing a stone from the ground
to keep, always,
as proof that it and I exist.

Outside the main gate I breathe
my first deep breath in hours
and then go to the corner for
ice cream.

Divine Comforter

An end of itself yet a beginning
Empty and still yet all encompassing
Gentle Fulfiller
Trusted Rescuer

Separates all things yet always joining
Satisfying all needs yet still yearning
Soothing Delayer
Blissful Forgiver

Losing the useless yet truth it’s keeping
The world pauses yet waits not while sleeping.

Drive

Thoughts of you resemble the cars racing by.
Though they blur together, losing their sense of self,
I am nonetheless affected by their speed and sense of purpose.
Perhaps one day, memories of you will slow down.

Or, maybe I will catch up. Move Move.

Personal construction is desperately needed.
Many of my lanes need are littered with potholes
And scream to be repaved, but more importantly
They all need their center lines repainted.

My own stillness is amplified. Zoom Zoom.

Echoes

Tiny letters splash
Upon the page
Echoing
into
Timeless
Eternity
So quietly you
Could mistake them
For paintings
Colors
Harboring
Secret meanings
In compilation

Emptiness

Emptiness has a way of making me succumb to it.
Today I laid upon my bed and let myself just 'be'.
I wonder if everyone feels this way sometimes.
I hope there are others, and not just me.

Today was no different than the one just before.
The sun rose, the sun set, and babies were born.
Up above, the stars shone bright, content people died.
And hurt, depressed people lived again with scorn.

But today emptiness devoured my mind.
And kicked my heart as it lay on the ground.
I could not breathe, I could not feel.
My world it spun quickly around.

There's only one answer and that is not to love.
To never trust or find oneself in anyone.
But I have not that leisure for I have fallen hard.
And today harsh reality to my door did come.

Empty Hands

No one understands,
except a little boy,
pressing his nose against
the candy store window,
how it feels to want.

He takes out his pennies.
Wait! What about me?
I press my nose
against your souls' window
offering all my pennies.

The boy holds his candy,
his hands sticky
with the rancid syrup.
You wave and
I bend over to catch my tears,
thinking of your empty hands
and how much
I want to fill them up.

Evaporation

Tiny marks thrown together become words
When placed one after another tell
Stories and books mirror real life
Stirred by imagination
Truth stranger than fiction
Becoming so real
It all melts
Into
One

Ever been?

Have you ever been
kidnapped
by a poets muse?
Broken in pieces
examined and then
resurrected in
almost
pure embodiment.
Almost?

Have you ever been
remapped
by travellers muse?
Tracked down mile by mile
driven and stamped
your heart-sent postcards
to the one you love.
Postcards?

Have you ever been
unwrapped
by a lovers muse?
Lured heart and meak soul
filled and guarded
mysteries of you
finding simple truth.
Of you?

Finger Painting

Colors are what’s needed now,
rather than these harsh, oblique
letters whose conglomeration
is at best, force fed,
and at worst, empty,
of the vivid picture of you
I have tucked in mind for safe-keeping.

Mine, not yours.

Yours would require the use of texture,
which is more simple and pure, even
in its infinite variety, than these:
the color in your eyes,
the letters of your name,
both of which are such small parts
of the greater whole which I hold dear.

First and Only

Sometimes I wonder what you think
in that mind of yours.
Sometimes I wonder what is there
back behind that door.

I'm the one who can set you free
for your lock I possess the key.
But you'd rather wear your crown
and rule the people and their town.

You control their mind and thoughts.
Your presence they never fought.
They welcomed you with open arms.
All you've done is bring them harm.

I see them worship at your feet
I watch them show you to your seat.
Don't dare think you're fooling me.
I will stay forever free.

Free like birds, so high they soar
like the seas who pound the shores.
Don't lock me behind your door
I won't take that anymore.

Deep down I know that you are king.
You lguth and dance, play and sing.
You say the truth is what this is
you tell me lies and then we kiss.

You I've never understood.
You said you could, I knew you would
take control of my warm heart.
Now you're tearing it apart.

I know the problems of the world
can't be solved by one small girl.
I also know that I must try
for if I don't I'll die inside.

Won't you tell me what you're thinking
in that mind of yours?
Won't you show me what is locked there
back behind that door?

12/1989

Flow

Spirit is hopeful
but a serpent more truthful;
slaves unto us supply our slightly ungrateful.

Beauty is weightless
but a burden nonetheless;
born unto us beneath our brazen faithlessness.

Color is lasting
but a contour more fitting;
cut unto us creates our conscious rewinding.

Flowchart

Abilities fade
so quietly that the memories
Are fond and free
of regret and missed
Chances.
Growing old
is not milestones
Leaped over but
rather bricks mortared
Slowly and delicately
over long miles
Of our life’s twisting
and meandering
Mission.

Perhaps the old have forgotten
all they could do
Just As I’ve grown flippant
about lacking the
Energy, stamina, and flexibility
of a child.

Forward

Franklin Socrates Edison Wright
Their inventions define a civilization
Of thinkers and dreamers who ask only when
Not how or why they will spark the next light.

Rockwell Arial Elephant Century
Their attributes define a civilization
Of readers and writers who need not a pen
To mark off pages in their own obituary.

Airplane Steam Engine Bicycle Feet
Their momentum define a civilization
Of movers and shakers who are destined
To live where the asphalt and cement meet.

Wonder Inquiry Religion Thought
Our intellect defines a civilization
Of adults and children who are in motion
And will not rest until forever is caught.

Half-life

Left undone or perhaps postponed
it’s already too little too late;
although a remnant of something
is always better than nothing
the half-life is almost over--
exponential depreciation--
and even if these single acts
show more than they should
and certainly more than they would
to the untrained,
you underestimate:
I’m a good listener--
my ears are trained for subtlety
and my vision is sharp, yet
I know not how to react.
These tiny thoughtless acts
BITE.

Hands

Your hands are so strong--

I quiver under their weight
but I am not afraid
of breaking or bending
because my skin answers your touch
with a certain gentleness
and your strong hands quiver
to desire my softness.
You are not afraid
of breaking or bending me
because the strength of your love
is more than enough
to protect me
from the capacity for harm
in a man's hands.


07/08/02

Head Game

Voices calling from the world of the dead
Fight and bicker as their anger’s fed.
I refuse to follow where they’ve led
But they never retreat, surging instead
And as time passes I’m filled with dread
For they’ve followed me each time I’ve fled
Coloring my black and white world with red
To the devils I shall be wed.
No matter who leads, they’re always here
And every moment becomes more clear
As they become more and more near
Standing face to face on this perilous tier
I gently balance the little I hold dear
And watch myself become a prisoner of fear.
The voices challenge my ability to steer.
While into the vast abyss I peer.

Here

Here the sound
A leaf makes
Falling to ground
Could deafen us.

Here the light
The sun makes
Winning its fight
Could brighten us.

Here the smell
That leaves make
After they fall
Could surround us.

Here the wind
The breeze makes
Against our skin
Could carry us.

Here the love
That we make
Soft as a dove
Could sustain us.

i

i am ineloquent
sharp, often too sharp
and ungraceful
and sometimes so lost
i don’t know what purpose
i serve when
i often feel so small
just a drop in the vast
sea of drops but
i am still wet.
i am motionless
but never still
especially when
i should be quiet
and i’m hollow but full
of energy and of this
force guiding my
hands which are
perfect for their job
just as I am
which is really more
than I could ask for
other than this:
i hope that i’ll
never break your spirit
and that i’ll forever
be me for you
but mainly for me.

Imposters

Questions are tiny fake imposters,
Drag queens masquerading as answers.
Glittering and shining in the night
Spells are broken in the mo(u)rning light.

Realization stings down to the core
Figments, poor replicas, nothing more.
He-Man is a Prince, Superman Clark,
Brought to life by our own insight.

July

July forces us out--
away from our generated cool which only makes it hotter outside
but keeps us comfortable--
momentarily--
out to watch the palpable heat in the sky explode.

July forces us away--
out from underneath our covers and nooks of comfort because
it's cooler the farther we go--
body heat and soul heat--
away resembles too closely the winter of life.

Kahlua

Kahlua makes the ice cubes pop and crack
while drizzling slowly into my glass.
It doesn't help me figure where I'm at
can't see the future when I'm looking back.

I look to others to measure my pace
knowing we're not all running the same race
No matter how fast, I'm always last place
Hunting myself in a twisted goose chase.

Mirrors and life reflect only what's seen
Hiding agendas found only in dreams
although the truth is bursting out my seams
no one else can understand what I need.

Afraid to let others see what I know
I know who I am, but not where to go
Feature attraction at my own freak show
Just faking it all with the truth in tow.

Brave enough to fight for what I hold true
Yet knowing certainties in life are few
Feet on the ground but arms reaching to blue
Settling for me when what I want is you.

Every morning I awake to a new day
Determined to move yet always I stay
Looking back, I've always been afraid
Now I realize what a mess I've made.

Lack

There is no room for
stillness in this rushing world
where even the wind can’t keep up
and the speed of light is but an
antiquated measure of time and space.
With so little quiet, paranoia
runs rampant and ruins the few
moments of solitude
we catch as they fly by
on the wings of insecurity and fear.

Lava

Tender kisses leave their mark, upon my frosty skin
Whispered wishes in the dark, know not where to begin.
Gentle touches soothe my soul, finding me where I hide
Warming every part of me, melting the fear inside.
Trembling fingers make me weak, throwing me in the pyre
Loving isn’t for the meek, tender hearts under fire.

Memories

The subtlety of your soft smiling gaze
gently passing over my weary eyes
draws me swiftly into your deadly maze
of hello's, welcome backs and good byes;
exactly where we
promised not to be
again.

Drowning in memories yet to begin
our futures as bright as stars in the skies
who cast glimpses of truth upon me when
listening to all of your blatant lies;
exactly where I
promised not to die
again.

Museum

I.

Where did I get my
muse?

Where else but from the very same
gift shop
where you found your
voice?


II.

When buying your ticket
Please pick up a map.

The greatest treasure
lies within me
but it’s a long journey

Find your way
before I bury myself,
please.


III.

Only time,
not stillness, can create
artifacts.

I’m not that old.
Neither are you.


IV.

Glass cases and velvet ropes
are gentle restraints,
but they still rub the wrong way
eventually.