| POETRY |
| Headed For Solitary I’ve become remote Standoffish really Out listening to music from can openers Rattling the windows In the cool mausoleum air The chunky sidewalks are freshly stained with the blood of maple trees I shudder The winter reds of mufflers and mittens wave about like fat leaky puppies Begging to be stroked I decline Blue lips are unbecoming to me, but I press onward Isolation is my final destination Would you point me in the right direction I’m running out of time by Sheryl McCurdy |
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| STRUGGLING WITH THE DAYLIGHT If only to fade into the succulent darkness once again glistening with the oily dew of midnight for moments of embracing and furtive kissing before impending dawn emerges her yellow beams somehow causing darkness if only… but the chain of daylight holds so very fast dust hisses from the clouds spilling sandy rain into the mouth and eyes blindly stumbling through the day full of grit I try to mime the righteous But cannot stay the longing for the tawdry twilight favors at the end of fading day by Sheryl McCurdy |
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| I JUST WANT SKY BLUE SKIES My dishwater thoughts Are tossed upon the frozen ground Steaming in the afternoon And I don’t care anymore About you Or me Or anything The cocoon of a monarch fails to inspire I used to think of church windows and glory but, That was before Now I see the frail paper wings Puffs of cotton really Picture puzzle pieces scattering on breezes As annoying really Too many colors Littering Just let the sky be sky blue I say And anyway Shouldn’t they be gone by now Hibernating …or something by Sheryl McCurdy |
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| Stone to Ashes in Flight I am so ill equipped to fight this beast unarmed, bare except for gnashing teeth my fingers gnarled and unyielding unable to grip weapons or curl into a fist demons can invade me with barely a nip I am open and exposed to the poisoned air in wait in fear defenseless save for indignation but sticks and stones words are not my wall is weak and weakening yet my eyes are that of a caged wild animal whites on show lids peeled back if but I could roam and pace confined instead to this bed of coals unable to move even my feet so in stone I am now before time erodes to leave pebbles than at last freedom in the flight of ash by Sheryl McCurdy |