Category: Poetry

Rhymed and unrhymed, form or free, this is where the poetry lives.

Centrifuge

lindastudleyLeave a comment

When I was a child I rode a centrifuge.
Excitement keening in my stomach,
strapped in, giggling,
wide eyed to new sensations.

Then whirling,
the dip and swoop,
the sunny amusement park
careening around and around.
Colours blurring into squeals
of delight and fear.

Then dizzy,
staggering back to the
routine pace of the day to day,
clutching memories to be taken out
on gray days.

How was I to know?
Life is a centrifuge.

 

#132

Change of Habit

lindastudley2 Comments

The taste upon the tongue
The smoke within the lungs
that satisfies and numbs
the foolish cravings.

Adrenaline that rushes
through fear and near death brushes.
The candy coated crutches
not worth saving.

The long familiar rut
is comfortable but
a feeling in the gut
says change is needed .

The need to question why
we do these things and try
to be honest in reply
and then to heed it.

 

#131

I Am Only One

lindastudley4 Comments

I would build a house for you
with love and my bare hands.
One that held you tenderly,
one that could withstand
the wind and rain and sun.
But I am only one.

I’d turn back the clock for you
to any time you say
to live inside the sweeter life
that came before the pain.
Before doubt had begun
But I am only one.

I would make your dreams real.
I’d spin a world so right.
Where every perfect morning
follows every perfect night
and all the wars are won.
But I am only one.

Yes I am only one, but we are two
and there’s no limit to what two can do.

 

 #129

Directions

lindastudleyLeave a comment

Side to side:
no real progress there
just the proverbial shifting of deck chairs
on a sinking ship.

Up:
I have climbed my share
of mountains, but the climb was always followed
by the steep descent.

Down:
‘Up’ in reverse.

Reverse:
A gear I’ve been stuck in
occasionally that always caused more pain
than it alleviated.

Forward:
Really the only choice,
with it’s share of pain and heartache and yet with
the potential for joy.

 

#128

Full Circle

lindastudley4 Comments

Always the heart yearns homeward
to a bed with grooves that remembers you
enfolding us in a soft embrace.
to the favourite mugs
the only ones that make my tea and your coffee
taste right.
to where the shadows are friendly and we can
find our way in the dark.
Full circle,
we have come full circle
and the next revolution
will be a peaceful one.

 

#127