She sat wondering what he saw in her She wasn’t the colorful person anymore The one that laughed louder than most Danced until her legs gave way to gravity She wasn’t the girl with the goth hair Or the one wearing the fishnets and heels She wasn’t that girl anymore She was too old, too…
Steps were heavy Growing heavier Taking more effort Making her slower A shaking began More of a tremor With each footfall Was a tidal wave Of fluid motion Her years kept her Clung to her bones And held her tight She was caught Underneath gravity Sink ing deeper Into the ground Becoming The ground
She fought the fight gone Energy lost to the fading Slow stepping beats Like a labored dragging Only time remains Erratic in its spinning And rigidity laces Around bones bracing Cover her in sand And set a fire blazing Death in a kiln A tribute everlasting
Written by James Sanders and HastyWords Branches, dry and brittle, snap beneath my feet Stained circles of torched grass litter the ground And the sun… Well… It strains to find purchase inside this compound Oh it’s no paradise, perhaps more like paradise lost But understand, my being here ain’t what it seems I…
So today is one of my FAVORITE bloggers birthdays. He ALWAYS seems to know when I need to talk, even when I don’t want to, he lets me know I am not alone. In my opinion, that is what a friend does. They don’t sweep in thinking they can fix you but they swoop in…
OK…so….John started this after reading something one of us wrote on twitter. I am not sure what it was now; but it was funny….it was…really….I think. Anyway, this poem reminds me of this picture I took being silly at a 1920’s party. This is for everyone who gets tired of seeing me post vanity pics…
HASTYWORDS 