Cliché Ridden

Cliché Ridden

Do you consider my
a flaw?
Is silence not golden?

I am
no longer a character in
your passion play.
The sacrifice was too great.

You want to hear
a solo
on my heartstrings.

I did that for
too long, wearing it on
my sleeve, while you
looked the other way.

Sadder, but wiser,
I’ve learned
my lesson. Consider that
book closed.

We have become
a cliché.

(In the past.)
This a poke at myself. I’m slowly learning to avoid common terms and phrases in my poetry, but lapses occur. Consider this a way to purge myself of the habit, get it out of my system. Damn! There I go again. Sometimes it just can’t be avoided. Damn!

Your Embrace #writephoto

Your Embrace

Your Embrace

I would lie on a bed of hard wood,
at the mercy of the elements,
the stars over my head,
if it meant waking by your side.

Should the vines wrap themselves
around us, neither
blazing sun, nor pouring rain,
could lessen the sweetness.

No matter the time or place,
it is your embrace
that consumes the moment,
brings me the joy I seek.

This poem is in response to Thursday Photo Prompt – Peace #writephoto, from Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo, with her photo.

The road is life

Suzanne’s weekly prompt at On the Road asks for a haiku, tanka, haibun or haiga regarding the various roads we travel. The June 30 prompt, The road is life, offers a quote from Jack Kerouac, On the Road:

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.”

This haibun is my response.

The road is life
The road is life

Car in tow behind a rental truck of a compressed life, I rolled out of town. Moving forward to a new life waiting to unfold, yet possessing ties that, even now, years later, draw me back to see the ones I love, I knew the past would always be a part of me. A truck full of weathered memories, some battered, was emptied when it reached its destination, its contents woven into the happiness I found.

deep within the heart
past and present still reside
as the future calls

denying separation
some bonds cannot be denied

love and loss

love and loss

love and loss

as hosts, guests,
tandem cohorts intent
on drawing salty trails
in a warm lake breeze

joy at thoughts,
moments no longer
attainable, present
held close for the future

family, friends here
and gone from us,
present still in a moment,
theirs as much
as our own

hearts will gather
never letting go of
what they want,
tears or not

A day of celebration and remembrance.
Image: Photo of Presque Isle Lighthouse, Erie, Pennsylvania (edited)