Several years ago
we met in an institution
I was let go
you fell victim
Are love was from God
The bonds were broken
I was able to carry on
Family distant though strong
Prayers for your recovery
I don't know what the future holds
God's annointing is a discovery
Lifting hands to the Lord who knows
He hears my request
despite being apathetic
by Anonymous 2
Heaven hath no flower sweeter than the memory of thee.
A thousand suns but a candle to the brightness of thy soul.
The world took on a paler hue when thy ship went out to sea,
And slipped beyond early horizon o'er valley and knoll.
Seeking my way, thou hast become my compass, my noon.
Thy sightless eyes shine as beacons from the stars in the sky,
Watchful and silent, yet constant as the wintery moon.
I long for the warm strong hands that tenderly held mine,
And miss the voice that sang sweet songs to comfort my fears.
A blanket of snow now warms thy sweet love until the morrow,
As thou kept careful watch o'er the slumber of my tender years.
Alas! Thy love remembered brings such joy and sweet sorrow.
You remain close to my heart, wherever I shall roam.
Those arms that carried thy child will someday carry her home.
When I breathe I think about my body
changing with every moment, changing I
think about my cells replacing themselves:
they’re shedding the me I no longer am,
they’re becoming the me I always was
I am/they are I am/they are I am
inseparable from all of this flesh,
inseparable from the air in me,
inseparable from the air outside,
inseparable from all that we are,
I want it to mean much more than it does,
I want it to mean much less than it does,
I want it to mean something in language:
to burst forth through the fleshy bowl of me.
by Lauren Adams
In the yard, two palm trees stand, roots entwined, a pretty pair
One is lithe with supple fronds, the other strong, a sturdy foil
A breeze slides in to tease their fringe, invite a sway, incite the play
Flirtatiously it orchestrates a symphony of air
A rustle builds like rain in spring bubbling on a pond
With harmony from silvered fans, a counterpoint of rasping chords
The wind grows fresh, conducts a dance, constructs the choreography
Audaciously all undulate to rhythm it commands
A final swirl of fallen leaves, a ruffle through the flowered beds
The zephyr flees for other scenes and undiscovered notes
The soundtrack stills for just a beat, the steps complete, a change of tracks
Vivacious strains of finches’ flight and sparrows’ sprightly psalms
In the yard, the palms embrace, their branches intertwined
Gracious with tranquility and melodies enshrined
by K. Dana
Author's note: *tone poem: a piece of orchestral music, usually in a single continuous movement, which illustrates or evokes the content of a poem, short story, novel, painting, landscape or other
(non-musical) source
A hot day and I am delirious
A touch of sun to wake my skin and drench
my hair my face my nails my eyes my feet
I’m warm for the first time, every time.
A hot day and I am so delicious
My sweat like soda pop my hair like silk
My muscles all soft like smooth sourdough
My teeth all shine, my feet all strong and sure.
A hot day and I am all myself
Awake for the first time, every time
Alert for the first time, every time
I wonder if I can capture this sun
into a jar for next time I feel
so lost, an unfamiliar creature.
by Lauren Adams
I’m scared, and so are the [birds]. I’m hungry
and so are the [birds]. I’m crying and so
are the [birds]. I’m anxious to fly off and
so are the [birds]. I’m light; so are the [birds].
Watch them in the morning: in pairs, alone,
Hear them chatter, hear them cry, hear them call,
watch them bounce like a feathered rubber ball,
hear them tell each other, tell me, tell us.
I see myself in them, like I see parts
of me in all. Is it empathy? Or,
a form of narcissism? I’m not sure.
I’m singing and so are the [birds]. We find
a reason in spite / because the world
turns silent and cold without hearing us.
by Lauren Adams