So much madness, crazy
Stuff, so crazy you only
Can call it shit, crazy shit.
Just reach for the sides,
Sweet potatoes, they will
Save you, I like mine with
Out the marshmallows, I
Know, sweeter maybe is
Better, especially now, I
Agree. Pass the brussel
Sprouts, please. There's
A chandelier at the Met
That just makes me feel
Good, feel better. These
Lights go up before the
Curtain does. At the Met.
Category Archives: Gratitude
Yes, dear, I do
Do I miss you, darling?
You, of all people, know.
You know I miss you,
And, even, I’ll bet, how
Deeply I miss you. It is
Intense, this absence of
Yours. Yes, I miss you,
Dear. Yet, also, I live my
Life, a life different from
The one we shared, the
One I miss when I say I miss you, darling, so
Much. I […]
Yes, dear, I do
Because
You are not outside my window
Because
You are inside my home
Because
You are inside my heart
Because
You are not outside
Because
You are inside
Because
You are not outside
My window, my heart, my home
Because
You are my home
Because
You will always be my heart
Because
You are not outside my window
Because
You will always be inside
My heart
Because
You are inside me
Old friends
We were girls together 60 years ago
Today, we can still connect and our
Talk weaves a rug of oft forgotten
Memories, long life news, and there
Are newer topics to reveal, discuss
Debate. I remember, then it's yours
To recall, or correct my recollection.
As I remember it was always thus,
Even 60 years ago, when first we met,
Conversed, discussed, debated. Yes
There's nothing new under the sun,
As the saying goes, and lots new to
Share, and chew on, now that time,
So much time, has passed. Tonight
Feels as if 60 years were yesterday
Working, another way
Poets are not a lazy gazy lot, I canWorking
Attest as I am hard at work putting pen
To page, in the metaphorical custom of
A digital age. I write in deep reflection, thinking
Hard of what it all means, all– I
mean
To say– is life itself from beginning to an end we
Do not want to imagine or foresee, foretelling with the
Same foreboding you feel, an
end I
Can see is inevitable even as
I enjoy my walk and
Indulge myself in my doings, coming and
Goings, as carefree as if there were not
An end in sight.
Working
Poets are not a lazy
Gazy lot, I can attest
As I am hard at work
Putting pen to page,
In the metaphorical
Custom of a digital
Age. I write in deep
Reflection, thinking
Hard of what it all
Means, all-- I mean
To say-- is life itself
From beginning to an
End we do not want
To imagine or foresee,
Foretelling with the
Same foreboding you
Feel, an end I can see
Is inevitable even as
I enjoy my walk and
Indulge myself in my
Doings, coming and
Goings, as carefree
As if there were not
An end in sight.
We all die alone
We all die alone
It is our story, our drama
With which we close
The scene. It will
Always be profound,
Our death, a solo bow
To our life and to our loves
Early morn
The dark and the light mix
Matched, perfectly balanced
Hanging in the balance, dark
Turning into light, illuminated
Grey, like a fluorescent paint,
Picking up the white of the
Sky, holding it in its pigment,
Brilliant yet dull. It's early yet.
Just wait until the sun bursts
Through the clouds, it'll add
A touch of lemony butter to
The palette, brightening the
Hues. Soon it will be daylight
What?
Hot hot hot dazed
Hot hot lazy, heat
Makes you crazy,
Crazed, hot dreary
Dreamy, lazy, daisy
Hot, heat, hot, slow
You
This is where I miss you most
When the sky is so beautiful I
Have to share its perfect color
This is when I miss you more
Where we might have walked
Together, sharing the night
I want to whisper with every
Breath how much I need you
To help me make the beauty
Real. This is when I miss you.
Never again will we walk like
That. Our bodies close, our
Hands holding tight, not alone
The perfect sky something to
Share. This is when I miss you
Tamara, really 