Poetry Corner

Since April is National Poetry Month, I thought I would share more of my poetry with you. Poetry is expressive and beautiful because it is a window to your innermost thoughts and soul...


Letting Go
With whispered earnestness, I confront my shadows.
Childlike images follow me mercilessly about.
As the light streams through the crack of the window, I am left in complete solitude once again.
The retreat of the darkness renders me helpless against the realities of my fate.
Hollow pain torments my soul.
Bringing back remembrances of another time.
I cannot delete memories of the past with a stroke of a paintbrush.
Or remove the canvas that holds the picture of my life's sentiment.
I must succumb to its sweet tranquility.
Peaceful acceptance, not of a loss, but a desire to move on.
Nothing stands to linger.
Except time, frozen amid my sorrow.
Cool breeze breathing life into my face.
I awaken from my reverie with the wind's gentle caress.
Its graceful movements guide me to the realm of the uninhibited, where dreams enchant and goals flourish.
No longer limited.
No longer powerless in your grasp.
With a final push, I am free...


Reach
My hand extends
Clasping freedom, serenity and will within my fingertips
Breezy rendition of a bird's hymn and nature's orchestra play throughout my mind
Capturing youth and innocence
While old leaves plummet to a withering death, new foliage establishes residency among the branches
The cycle of life enfolds
Trying to break free from the artificial movements of a routine existence, I reach
Crossing the mighty bridge which separates reality from fantasy


Middle Age
The sun sets while night protrudes from the horizons
Flowers wilt as summer season fades
For us, it's called middle age
Wrinkles start to appear on a once youthful face
Quickness and dexterity are a thing of the past
Like go-go boots and disco balls
Caution overrules instinct
Actions seem to carry a more permanent consequence of coming of age
While premeditation takes first place in the marathon of life
Forgetfulness ranks as runner-up
The hour spent in the parking lot in search of your car
Then the dreaded denial
I am not old
To prove that very statement, you imitate the style and dress of teeny-bopping adolescents
If you can't be younger, perhaps you can feel younger
When battle has been waged and lost
Tired, you succumb to middle age