Is this a good guess?
The idea that crosses
My mind, just briefly,
Flittingly with no hold
Or perch to make it fly.
The one that's tangible.
Can't quite make it home.
Rough or ready but not
Both, significantly less
Dignified than the other
The hungrier tooth, older,
Adapting to this novelty
You did not expect. To
Ask for an explanation
Where none is found is
Trying. It leaves your
Mind guessing as mine
Did or does when facing
This kind of fork in a
Road so flat it flatters.
Author Archives: therealtamara
For an opinionated woman such as I, blogging is an excellent outlet. This is one of many fori that I use to bloviate. Enjoy! Comment on my commentary.
Hearts break
In the nighttime, my love, you
Are beaten and defeated. It's
Your struggle to understand
The nightmare of neglect, the
Careless care we subject you
To. Dreams should be full of
Love, hope. I have failed you.
Skyscape
I am not a star-gazer.
I leave that to those
Who know what it is
In the night skies to
Distinguish one from
Another constellation.
Lights strung in rows
Or shining separately
Making sparkles that
Brighten the sky and
Illuminate the clouds.
Luck
Lightning flash stops or pauses
My heart as it pauses my tracks.
Lightning bounces off the metal.
Scaffold doesn't protect not even
From the wet. Draws lightning in
Pausing me in my path. Scary? Yes.
Lightning flashes come again. It's
Not like the puddles I can avoid.
Hear the boom and here it is again.
Lightning stops me in my tracks.
Yet I made it through. That's luck.
Aging
When the songs have changed
I still sing of our love and your
Beauty. You've changed with
Time, we both have and when
Time has changed you, OK us,
Our songs have changed. But
I still sing of our love and of us.
Beauty
You are a beautiful man.
You have been known to
Make me sing in intimate
Pleasure. Age has bent us;
It gnarls our bones and it
Bends our backs so there
Isn't a straight line in our
Bodies and the songs we
Knew in the night are just
Memories. Memories we
Treasure. Memories we
Cherish just as we cherish
Each other long after our
Power is sapped and our
Memory fades and we are
Turned crooked by time's
Relentless passage, aged
Into a new, an unfamiliar
Beauty. I still sing for you
Time worn
Restless beauty is for the
Young. We are no longer
Restless nor are we young.
We are not strong of body but
Full of the history of our days.
Our composure is wherein
Lies our beauty and the
Strength we nurture as our
Own. Ours isn't the strength
Of youth. We need not flex
A muscle to brace our claim
At the beauty that we have
Earned. Ours is a resolute
And quiet beauty, a stillness.
We are not strong of body; we
Are full of the history of our
Days. Therein rests our beauty.
Not in our youth but in our age.
Marvel
It's time to look at the sky
And marvel. Or at the eyes
Of love or just of friendship
For inspiration. Circumspection
Is found around each corner.
Awe is found in every flower.
Wonder at what a day brings
Must make gratitude brim.
It's time for awe, inspiration,
For gratitude, for reflection
Looking up
You look up, as I have asked
You, dear reader, to and the
Roof lines caught in the sun
At midday are as wondrous
A sight as promised, giving
You, and me, a reason for
Joy and a moment of awe,
It is not yet dusk, the time
For true wonder, yet we see
The beauty in the diverse
Lines of the buildings we
Glimpse from a block afar
Such lucky walkers are we
A day unlike
There are no two alike
I speak of whole days
Not mere snowflakes
Or, in the procedural
Vein, fingerprints, the
Very tip of which are
Said to be unique, no
Two like each other but
Each special from sun
Up to sundown, rising
And falling before a
New day peaks from
Behind the moonrise or
Is it the setting moon
There are no two alike.
I speak of entire days.
Tamara, really 