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The diamonds did their water-dance,
A salty sailor slept.
Pondering life’s happenstance,
Quietly, she wept.
Wept for all the years she squandered,
Living someone else’s dream,
For all the years she wandered,
In the box’s maze of schemes.
Moon-shine lit the captain’s bunk,
A salty sailor slept.
On liquid light rays thinking-drunk,
Quietly, she wept.
Wept for so much love and fielty,
Bestowed upon folks unworthy,
For trusts recompensed with cruelty,
They wrung her dry like scurvy.
The stars winked and dimmed and sparkled,
A salty sailor slept.
To milky way-days thoughts harkened,
Quietly, she wept.
Wept for the quirky wild-child,
She knows is her inner world,
For that curiously clever bright-eyed,
That precocious little girl.
The wind sang aloud its wind-songs,
A salty sailor slept.
The cool breeze assuaged her done-wrongs,
Quietly, she wept.
Wept not with remorse or worry,
For life’s folly, yours, theirs, mine and ours,
For her twisting-turning story,
The racing pace of hours.
The Diamonds did their water dance,
Moon-shine lit the captain’s bunk,
She was awestruck by her choice, perchance
to heave overboard life’s junk.
The stars winked and dimmed and sparkled,
The wind sang aloud its songs,
She wept the tears of chains unshackled,
She slept the sleep of crones.
~M.Y.M.: new(ish) in old(er) age.
Summer, 2020
Photos and Poetry: All Rights Reserved
Bitch, when you come for me,
slinging fictitious accusations,
odium and slander,
I will not come for you,
flinging righteous recriminations,
for to wile and guile,
I will not pander.
Bitch, when you come for me,
un-shielding a hot blade of fallacies,
short truths and tall tales,
I will not come for you,
wielding absurd analyses,
for defensive drivel,
rarely prevails.
Bitch, when you come for me,
impelled by your suffering, my own to repudiate,
a pain solely yours not an iota is mine,
I will come for you,
compelled only to extricate,
for peaceful relations, means
never, entwine.
~Marcela: happy to wear what is mine,
refusing to don that, which is solely part of some one else's,
current emotional wardrobe.
August 08, 2020
Poetry and Photograph: All Rights Reserved.
Marcela: Unfiltered 