I Miss You

you made the happy days
so much more fun
you willingly provided comfort
and a shoulder on the sad days
your smile alone infused joy
into the boring ones

now i can only…

wish for you on the happy days
to make them even better

wish for you on the sad days
so as to not weep silently and withdrawn

wish for you on the boring ones
to not feel so alone

if only wishing worked…

because your love always wrapped me up in warmth
and your joy was incredibly infectious
you and your presence kept me sane

i miss you so very much
still…


Heather Carr-Rowe

Stars in Our Eyes

It can be said
that all love
starts like a star
     -atoms collide-
stars in our eyes burn
until gravitational pull
puts our feet firmly on the ground
     -stars collapse-
perhaps, not all love
is like the death of a star

Dead Flowers Rise Again

from sadness,
let spring
rise from the darkness,
sprout seeds from remembrance,
that sunflowers
shall shine once more

        Beacon

          slivers of moonlight
shimmer between dancing leaves
          illuminating

    Duplicitous

moonlight masks
   dark
    aspirations

      Sky

crystal blue
      light
  everlasting

The Messenger

A mourning dove
visited me one day.
He did not coo,
much to my pleasure,
he bobbed his head
all-knowing,
walked about the garden
as we once did.

~~~

Heather Carr-Rowe is an educator and tree lover living on the prairies. In her spare time, she loves to hike, weave, embroider, and write poetry inspired by nature. You can read more of Heather’s poetry at her blog, Sgeoil. This is her first feature on The Short of It.

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Bartholomew Barker

Roses

I only pretend to smell the roses
when I kiss their petals with lips
chapped by twenty years of thirst.

I never expected to live this long
without you.

For the Bird who Smashed into my Window

All that remained airborne
was a solitary feather
on its final flight

Not understanding death
drifting down

Galileo

Poets have been howling at the moon
since before we invented language

Our ancestors gazed at the stars
noticed five among thousands
that wandered the skies like chariots

Astrologers and scientists tracked
Jupiter as he marched along
regularly retracing his steps
at his most glorious

No one knew of his four escorts
each brighter than the little dipper
until Galileo pointed his telescope
up — and revealed what had been hidden
by the Jovian glare

And I mourn for the eons of reflected sunlight
wasted on our puny human eyes

for Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto

A farmboy sees the ocean for the first time

I remember my first visit to The City,
stepping onto a straight flat boulevard,
shuddering at the endless street lights
and buildings marching to the horizon.

I was afraid to cross traffic,
be swept away by a river of iron,
but trusted most drivers would stop
if only to avoid insurance paperwork.

Now I stand on a beach
and can’t see the other shore
and the fear is different
than it was among the works of men.

These waves are relentless,
waxing and waning with their own logic,
the guttural voice of the ocean
propelled into the land,
                                   beckoning,
                                                     compelling.

The fear is different here—
The ocean does not care
if I can swim and yet
I step into the surf.

Liberation

Harder to jump my first boxcar
than to leave my life behind
no more cellphone leash
no collar on my left ring finger
no nine digit dog tag
they’re all behind me now
where the rails converge

But no more pleasant dreams
beneath these naive stars
the fear of being jumped
the hunger of moldy food
the cough that won’t go away

Freedom means detachment
lost a tooth in the last fight
lost a toe in the last cold snap
lost my faith in mankind years ago
though a Styrofoam of alms offered
as though I were a monk
reminds me we’re not all bad

Hope they won’t find my body
that I’ll feed the earth that once fed me
can’t stand the thought
of being trapped in a box
for all eternity

~~~

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit. www.bartbarkerpoet.com Bartholomew was initially featured in 2020 on The Short of It and had selected pieces in The Sound of Brilliance.

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Reblogs – Kristin Kory & Christine Bolton

Whether childhood trauma, devastating unexpected events, dysfunctional upbringing, or the daily grind wearing you down — rest, gather your inner strength, and begin anew. Continue on as who you were meant to be before life intervened.

Song of Flames by Kristin Kory

They tell you to follow the sun
as if night isn’t upon you
as if the shadows aren’t real

but night is still upon you

The thing in your mouth, copper hush
rage whispers
silence screams
until you sing your song of flames:

Let them come
Oh, let them rage
Let them find me in the shadows
Let them say my name
And quake

They tell you to let go
as if you’ve unpacked your pain
as if you’ve poured it into the earth

but hell still sits in a suitcase

The thing in your belly, it knows
the magic lies in the coming apart
in the middle of the wreck
in your every season
and every room
it waits

Hurt is hard to feel
but still the wound must speak
and speak it does
before you heal

They tell you to sit on the moon
keep fishing dark skies for stars
as if hope isn’t hanging by a thread of nostalgia
as if you didn’t notice the rage behind the flowers
before they were plucked from your garden

but his hands are still entangled in your hair

The thing in your center, it calls
little by little
in waves
it comes

Pull up a chair, sorrow says
out of body, slip
you will rebuild yourself
but first, rest

Inner Child by Christine Bolton

I live life now  
as my inner child  
She who lived in  
secret for so long  
Never allowed  
to come out and play  
Words tied to her  
tongue left unsaid  
Perceptions wrong  
every time  
Assumptions skewed  
Questions unasked  
Until finally freed  
Now her poetry  
tells the story  
of who I am now  
Unafraid and fearless  
Forever young 

Another Piece Published in Edge of Humanity Magazine!!

A big thanks to Joelcy Kay – Editor and Curator for accepting and publishing “Perpetual Pain” in the Edge of Humanity Magazine today! I really appreciate being showcased along with so much other amazing talent! THANK YOU!

Click this link to read the entire piece.

Grief-Sicken

the monumental woes
sudden jolts to the psyche
a shock of endless wounding ripples
splintering into a cascade of emotions
gigantic internal rifts open in us

flayed open in a jagged void

our mind, body and soul
doing the symbiotic dance of intense unease
putrid words heat up inside needing purged
they force themselves up and out unintelligibly
hot screamed tears flow down anguished cheeks

our reality forever changed

in time we hush our voice to gutteral moans
the liquid from our eyes slows to a trickle
the suffering seals us up within ourselves
and the sadness clings to every fiber in our being
arthritic pain felt everywhere there are no bones

living is hard

Perpetual Pain

Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #190 – Insanity
&
Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Unforgotten

no one told me
the days of mourning
linger for years

those unforgotten bring us
more bitter than sweet memories
unexpectedly and forcefully

it rises up within us
tears well and overflow incessantly
this insanity of grief, tortuous

when you love hard
you hurt more
death really kills two people


Reblog – Piece by Weronika Donovan

How many of us have gone through this feeling of lost connections? Too many, I fear. When I first read this piece, it reminded me of a favorite song of mine – Lost on You by LP. It’s the same message – loss of a connection. Weronika echoed that song but compressed the sentiments into this exquisite short piece. Bravo!

Painted Poems

In that moment
I felt that
there is a piece
a piece of me
which I’ve missed
which cannot be found.
By me
by you
by anybody.
A piece that was lost
many years ago
amid desert’s sands
of our relationship.

© W. Donovan

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Wrong Sex

with shame i hide
within the norms of society
disguising, even to myself,
my true desires

our friendship turning romantic
confuses me further
your charisma enchanting me
your song lifting my spirits

what a mind
smart, decisive and creative
your care and concern
envelops me decisively

the air around you
light
smoothing these edges of mine
adjusting my rough attitude

my mother loves you
as do i
but can this love sustain
with this private dilemma

i think i desire men

This is in response to Val’s request for poetry for National Poetry Month Scavenger Hunt aka NPM 21. The piece above is about a lost love.