small stones – March 6, 2016


stop, reflect, meditate
callings of my heart
my soul, my mind
this is not defeatism
I am not giving up
merely surrendering
to the knowledge:
I cannot do everything


The Perpetual Cycle — Poetry

First me, then you
we take turns screaming
our voices shrill
long into the night
no compromises, no surrender

we go to separate rooms
computers flared up
music booming through shadows
of angry faces and redden eyes

Sleep fails us
and by morning’s rays
we stomp around each other
avoiding eye contact
tension as thick as mire

Your anger creates chaos
of shattered plates
and smashed computer parts
I cower in my room
shaken by your wrath

By midday, I emerge
beholden to my nature
ever the one to give-in
lower myself to knees knelt
and reverse the course

©April 2015, Lori Carlson