#Poetry: After the Reading

My favorite
characters
have spilt
my guts
in public–

Now alone
with
my ‘self’

though

I

am
perhaps
a pretty
lie.

The globe
spins for
the sake
of

tradition

Gravity
binds
us to

memories
and visions
of sudden
lingering-

death.

Words and image (c) Rob Goldstein 1986, 2014, 2020

Poetry: A Day in the Hospital

A piece

of me

dangles

above

newborn

eyes-

Legs jig

arms spin

but that

ball

of intellect

lies

that ball

of rage

cuts

this ball

of love

falls

and

bounces

away.

We are at root causes.

Scent of remembered

sweat:

through cracks

it drips,

Yet now–

…silence…


(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2020

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the unraveling

This poem by Kat Myrman is so beautiful I had to share it.

like mercury colliding...

the unraveling

the tapestry is unraveling
earthy tones of brown and
tan, yellow and red fading,
white patches soiled from
blood and tears, offering no
warmth, no consolation,
threads splintering, breaking
unable to hold together the
dreams of the innocents
wrapped in it like a shroud…
where are the seamstresses
with steady hands and nimble
fingers, trembling with needles,
eyes too narrow to thread, to
mend the tatters, to scrub
the fabric clean, to restore
the tapestry, or better yet,
to weave a new cloth, one
that is brilliant, softened
with batting, large enough
to cover all who slumber,
to shield us from nightmares,
from the darkest of nights,
to bring us safely to the dawn
we’re hanging by a thread
tossed by tempests, trembling,
chilled to our bones
while the world burns

~kat


Crawling out from under my rock. Sorry for my recent silence. I confess that I have…

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No key – a poem

A breathtaking and essential poem from Roberta Writes

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There is no key

Secret or otherwise

To unlock a mind

That has gone awry

Stretched to breaking point

By three wretched visitors

Stress, the spirit suppressor

Anxiety, the spirit disabler

Fear, the spirit destroyer

There’s no front door

No easy access

You need to delve

Take the time to explore

To test and experiment

Following the clues

Traveling the paths

Half formed and rutted

With your tiny hammer to hand

Built of unconditional love

You must chip away

At the filters and barriers

Unraveling the maze

Breaking down the walls

Removing the debris

It could take months

Or even years

There is no way of measuring

Its unfathomable presence

You have to persist

Until you find your way in

And the healing can begin

By Roberta Eaton Cheadle

I haven’t written any poetry for months. The spirit just has not moved me so I was pleased when the idea…

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