20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


Tidal Wave

Woman in water

There is the path that cleanses all
inequity, yet I just sit here
staring into space, epitomizing this
headache that started even before
I was fully awake, setting sail to
pity parties in my bathtub ocean,
confined by solid walls, no tide
to refresh impurities, a fish tank
in the background the only
indication of moving water,
stirring spirit

©SpiritLed 2014


Love Lost and Stolen

Image

Though I am not aware of any great love

 beaming down upon me, I hope they are there

My lost son, my mother , her parents,

They speak to me, hear me when no one else does.

I have searched, believed, dreamed, loved

and seen all of that stolen from me.

In misery, drowning in tears, I have lain,

thinking of you, longing for your touch.

Oh, Holy Spirit, one whom I should trust

I often wonder where you are, near, or far

Do you watch over me while I suffer?

Do you not interject yourself in earths troubles?

There was a time when the majesty of your works,

the beauty of the forest and flowers of spring,

carried me to a place of pure delight.

Now, all I do is wonder what I did to make you leave.

Nothing can bring back what was stolen from me.

I try to find comfort in the winds, the sea,

To find you again, but I cannot see beyond the clouds.

I reach up, longingly to find only emptiness.

All you must do is reach down as I reach up,

as you did once and suddenly withdrew.

I hear the winds power, the majestic clouds.

But i want you, and can never ever have you here again.


1 Comment

Mr. Sandwich Shop Guitar Man

I see you
      Turn your pages
I hear you
      Sing your songs
But I know
      You are not here with me

You are not here
      Next to the soda kiosk
         Where thirsty patrons
         Bashfully avoid eye contact
         While cupping ice and drink

You are not here
      Across from the counter
         Of energetic salami assemblers
         Who call your name
         At the end of each song

You are not here
      Near the booth
         Where the father asks
         For Puff the Magic Dragon
         Confused when you say you don’t know it

Mr. Sandwich Shop Guitar Man

I see you
      On a different stage
      At a different time

Without the air of
      Pickles and potato chips

Without the air of
      Tired moms and milk shakes

Without the air of
      Longing to be singing
      Anywhere but here
      Anywhere but here

But here you are
      Singing to the sandwiches
      Turning pages to find a tune
      Perfect for a ham and swiss
      Perfect for a pickle
      Perfect for Jackie Paper
         And his dad
         And the counter jockeys
         Who call your name
         And bring you back

So your journey
   May begin
     Again

(c) 2010, Norman Dziedzic Jr.


2 Comments

That is how it is with me

Hundreds of arms around me trying to get free

from this material body,

they symbolize the thoughts I have swarmed

within me fearing that I would lose them

in case I set them free.

I can’t set them free, they are symbolic

because I say so and I know and

if these symbolic hands go away

symbolizing my thoughts

where would I be but here

grieving their departure

longing for the pain they cause me.

I make no sense as usual but as I always say

that is how it is with me.

I have ruined what I started to write

by symbolizing my thoughts with me.

Oh but I didn’t do that, they are being symbolized by

those hundreds of hands,

how could I forget but as I always say

that is how it is with me.


1 Comment

Tristesse dans l’amour

like the moon,
you speak to me
in your silence…
you touch me with just your
look…and caress my soul
with your music….

like the meadowlark
you sing to me
in my dreams…
i am lulled into a peaceful
slumber and kept in
a gentle sway with
the melody of your song…

i am captivated with
the lightness of your ideas…
and charmed by your intellect…
i think you’ve cast a spell on me
without knowing…and
though you will never
be mine…i am forever yours…

 

forest of unrequited love


6 Comments

Eight Lilies

Flowers of Lilium candidum

Flowers of Lilium candidum (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eight Lilies of remembrance,

stand to mark the way.

Eight lilies, one for each of you,

respect and honour the day;

to show that I still think of you,

though that day is done,

each lily marks a bygone past,

from a lifetime that is gone.

 

I smell their sweet thick lily scent,

It makes me think of you;

with fondest memories in my heart,

and tears that are now few.

No longer living in my world,

It is as though you’re dead.

The lilies are memorial,

to words still left unsaid.

 

© Eight Lilies 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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