Tiny Fingers: For Valentine’s Day
I’d planned to write a song about hearts and roses,
About the love you find just where no ever supposes
You’d ever find it—so they don’t bother to look.
A song that filled with kisses and warm embraces,
And the brilliant smiles that can light the darkest faces—
Oh, the poetry would fill a book.
But what came to mind is my own three kids,
They sure are their mom’s and my greatest gift,
To be able to break all walls,
To walk the thorny path and survive
It sure is love, you proclaim.
To stand still,
Though the earth below quivers, shaking your feet
As if youâ€™re standing on the thinnest ice
Waiting to shatter and sink you in
This must be love, you declare.
To keep on smiling
Sweet encouraging words and genuine compassion
To maintain the daily good wishes
Ignored, like an unwanted package
Left in the corner
Busied with their own noisy thought
And there I was
Confused by my own deafening thoughts
Tears showed what happened inside.
Ignored, like unused instrument
Kept in an old box up in the attic
Engaged with their own ambitious dreams
And there you were
Puzzled by your own pushy dreams
Laughter covered what happened inside.
Ignored, like an uninvited
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE SUICIDE
A Gothic Horror Story
by Robert Davidson
I have killed myself
and today I attend my own funeral -
But last night I went down to the morgue
and there identified your body
Electric light gives a certain grace to the dead!
those awful slabs - unknown corpses laid out side by side
rigid forms cold on marble slabs
Water distends a corpse unpleasantly
Sautéed cerebellum Julianne,
served with a small bowl of diced dreams
and a mixed emotions salad
topped with Cream Of Hope dressing.
Off to the left,
a side order of shish-a-bob of chopped remembrances, flambé.
Absinthe of Lethe, please.
And hold the slice of cold reality…