Frostbite

it came in the night
engulfing my world in white
with one icy bite

~smj

Winter Morning,
photo by smj

 

 

 

Painful Conversations

Lay quiet
Lay still
so the pain doesn’t come.

Don’t breathe
a sound
or an invitation.

Dear Pain,
I’m sorry
but, I think we should break up.
It’s not me,
it’s just you
and, I’ve had more than enough.

Dear Sam,
Nice try,
but, I am going nowhere.
No way.
No how.
Not on wings or a prayer.

Just then
warm winds
whispered words from the past

“Just wait
Hold on
and, this too shall pass.”

~smj

– Details In The Fabric, by Jason Mraz Feat. James Morrison

Dizzy

Spinning and spinning
’round and round.

Dancing with memories
lost and found.

Falling and falling
out and down.

Hoping that hope
hits the ground

running and running
fast, safe and sound.

~ smj

Fortunate Ones

How fortunate are black bears that retreat
at the first scent and flake of winter’s light
into dark havens far from frigid’s white.
Bellies full, they breathe sustaining heat

and rise and fall into sweet slumbered bliss.
Unscathed from descending deprivation,
unconsciously content in their sedation,
the unknown is quite impossible to miss.

But, what if fortune crooked its fickle head
exchanging bear’s superficial gifts of sleep
for the restless fate the clever vixen keeps?
If virgin eyes witnessed icy glistening beds,

before a myriad of  soulful seasoned riches missed, what then?
Would the fortunate ones feel fortunate to ever sleep again?

~ smj
revised 5-2013
original 11-2011 (below)

“I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems
got to open my eyes to everything
Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul
don’t let me die here
there must be something more
bring me to life
Wake me up inside, wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark
bid my blood to run, before I come undone
save me from the nothing I’ve become”

Bring me to life, Evanescence

—————————–

original 11-16-2011:

“Without Farewell” and “What Men Call Life”

I didn’t write these next two poems: “Without Farewell” and “What Men Call Life”, but, wanted to share…  They were actually written by my grandfather.  The first poem, “Without Farewell”,  he wrote early on, in 1932…  perhaps, about one of  his own parents or ?

Without Farewell

Some part who part without farewell,
not knowing tis the hour.
Without the tale they longed to tell.
Without one fading flow’r.

And some will grieve, who parted so,
some secret in the breast,
they never told – and never know,
how greatly they are blessed.

They never met for some last time –
the last hour was so sweet –
as all the hours hope makes sublime
when mortals part to meet.

There is no memory of tears,
no shadow on the past.