Shade of Winter – Poetry


art credit: Hazy Shade of Winter by LesFromages

Shade of Winter

Is this death or rebirth?
The age old philosopher’s question –
ever the pessimist or the optimist
But there is more dormant below the surface
than the decaying above

The whisper of a chilled wind carries
the chiming of bangles:
it’s a hazy shade of winter
ushering in a deep freeze, so silent
one could go mad

And yet, Life bubbles out of frozen ponds
and glistens on tree buds
awaiting the moment to burst
into Divine interpretation
This performance is for the living
the bearer of hope in the bleakest of days

Copyright ©January 2016 Lori Carlson

Unripen – Poetry

These thin vines hang burdened by berries
As black birds await first signs of ripening

I was once an unripen girl–thin, gangly
Hanging on your every word–wide-eyed, in awe
Your dark eyes searching for signs of womanhood

You plucked away at my innocence–foul-mouthed
Filling my head with pornographic filth
Your hands finding reasons to brush my thighs
Or gentle hugs that lingered far too long

I didn’t understand your advances then
My young mind still blossoming, not caught up
With the changes of breasts and curves

The night you forced yourself upon me
Did my unripen berries leave a bitter taste?

Copyright ©July 2015 Lori Carlson

A Waste of Time – Poetry

cemetery at night

I’ve trespassed this cemetery before
in search of your bones
I can still hear their rattle
a child’s toy
like the games we once played

I’d close my eyes, counting
you’d zigzag through stones
then duck and hide
your bones chattering
against cement
you could never hold still

I pretended to search
to give you a moment’s reprieve
a semblance of sanity
as I called out long lost ghosts
and then popped out behind you
your hair standing on end
as fright overcame you

It was a waste of time
to include you
to hope you’d enjoy these outings
the longing, the need
to be one with you there
but you were never one for the dead

I lived for the dead
slept upon gravestones
curled up in freshly dug earth
made love there, under darkness
I wanted to share this with you

It was you
who claimed I shared nothing
that I held back
kept you at a distance
roamed the streets in the night
without you
but you couldn’t understand my desires
the uncontrollable need for Death
You questioned everything
the darkness that sustained me
the need for moonlight upon my skin
the unquenchable thirst of blood
from His cup

And even when Death claimed You
You knew
I would walk these graves
call out your ghost
sleep upon your marker
and waste my time here, forever
with you

©March 2015, Lori Carlson

This Tangled Garden

The precious flowers that color and fragrance my world
are somehow lost to me today–no, not just today
for weeks, I am now realizing
I stumble over simple explanations
fret over words and phrases

My flower garden has become a nightmare
a tangled, unkempt patch of weeds
the home of trolls and wicked beasts
all strangling my mind to the point of numbness —

Is this what my future holds?
The digging, digging for the right things to say

If I could bulldoze the entire plot over, I would
and begin anew–an empty garden
Am I still young enough, well-enough?
or will I suffer my grandmother’s fate?
Unable to plant, I will merely pass away

Copyright ©2015 Ravyne Hawke

Everything I Gave — a poem

Whole days I lingered
Parts of me fused into you
I couldn’t distinguish
My backbone from yours
Where my thoughts began
And yours ended

Once, our bodies molded
Into one lusty union
Passion so fierce
I feared us
We blazed the world

I would have remained
Craven unto you
A victim of your will
Forever enmeshed
In this unholy bargain
A deal struck by blood

But you had me tangled
In fishnets
Of twisted waters
I nearly drowned
My lungs filled
With your darkness

You offered no light
No life
Separate from your illusions
Everything I gave
You stole
Crushed beneath your feet

This was not love
No joining of souls
Only despair remains here

©March 2015, Lori Carlson

A Little Something Different

Since I’ve barely used this blog, I’ve decided to do something a little different with it. My husband gifted me with two books this week: The Pocket Muse and The Pocket Muse 2 both by Monica Wood. I guess he doesn’t want me to run out of ideas because these books are full of writing ideas and tips. My ramblings from these books will be posted here and if anything exciting comes of the work here, that will be posted on my writing site: My Poetry. 

Just a note: If you do search my poetry site and you are unable to view a piece of my poetry, it is likely set at Mature and you would have to join the site and add your birthday to show that you are over 18. Silly, I know, but what can you do?

So yes, this will be my sounding board where I hash out poetics, essays, memoir pieces, etc. It should be interesting and hopefully I will have the stamina to maintain it. I do tend to create things and leave them half nude.