She is forced to live a 1000 years in one lifetime
Peeking cautiously, she sometimes sees the world
With wounded childish eyes inside a woman's skull
Her brain can spin on this one theme
As if a record with a scratch
While other days playing smoothly
With a song beautiful and polished
Plucking away at her feathers of strength
Causes her to rebel
Suddenly she soars above the torturing fingers
Reaching towards her
Higher and higher she climbs
So the sun warms her soul
And the air clears her vision
Poet
From this tomb of tears that chain
My ship to shifting sand
I dip the pen in my soul, in vain
To free the Hidden Heart of Man
So I may toss the tearful task
And just as a poet be,
I cast aside the tortured mask
To test the breeze of Liberty
Where courage weighed departs from shore
And seeks that cloven glen
I too shall slip from turning shore
To sail the sea of What to When
My poem sings within me
And hails a welcome home
My pen a voice searching for words
In thoughts which, rambling and inarticulate
Witlessly shrug the responsibility
For understanding their creation
Silent thoughts locked inside
Torment a troubled heart
They ache to be released
On winged words depart
Yet they remain imprisoned
By imaginary fears
The soul cries out in anguish
But reaches no one's ears
Oh, wretched fool your burden
That sears until you bleed
With just a few spoken words
Could easily be freed
To vocalize one's feelings
Breaks down the unseen wall
Express your thoughts to others
And let those fences fall
Nightfall
As whispered breaths of angels
Blow gently clouds of white
Sun's fading glow spreading colors
Red, gold and bright
Sounds dull and distant quieten
To ears straining to hear
The last birdsong,
Laughter, of children playing near
Dark, blackened branches against
A now paling sky
Reaching skyward with their hands
To grasp, and try
To hold back darkness ascending
And capture moon-silvered rays
To glitter and sprinkle on the
Ground, grass, and pathways
Summer's day ending, giving up,
To deep and darkest night
So we can dream of another day
To bathe within the light
You cannot email Elise (Starrlett) for her permission to copy these poems...Elise passed away a few months ago. She was not a very CLOSE friend but for the short time I was fortunate enough to know her I found her to be a warm, funny and caring person. I have decided to keep her work posted for others to read and enjoy as I have.
Send mail to:Cammilita@aol.com
