Best Yesterdays Poems

She swept the side effects of yesterday
Into an unknown place where
Longing transcends the ache
Of remembered years that cling
To wounds that never heal.

The haunting specter of childhood ghosts
Lost in some nostalgic fantasy
Sift sad shadows from the past;
Unwilling to release the pain
That surrounds her days and nights
With...

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I ask you now is this my plight
I cry out to you all through the night
My tears run dry, my heart still stings
My soul seeks solace but no peace it brings

Words expensive hang in the air
They wound so deeply, 
The air so thick
On the thorn...

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In
This
Slumber
 *******
Yesterday
Exists only in
Special dreams
Tomorrow it  will
Exist in reality again
Resilient  and  offering
Delights untold expressing
Answers to ease lonely tears
Yesterdays that have seeking
Solitude and peaceful silence
  **********************
Days that mask all truth
Reaching for a word
Esteem for you
And even
Me
...

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This morning, I opened a drawer to my yesterdays
of crumpled poems half written, but thought I'd tossed
Here I am, reading them, through a tearful haze,
and remembering nights I wept for love I had lost

I flattened the pages, one by one with fingers shaking
A sonnet pledging...

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Back when girlish daydreams rode the ether like coal-glowy-clouds
featly feet kept a beat in spring grass as I flounced with Romany wind
breezy-gypsy-lips brushed my cheek as I whirled in his arms
‘til I fell over on pillows of clover…  white fields did pillow my dreams
as...

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In what haunt hath hope,
he who in solitude,
weeps into soiled palms;
calloused by that labor
desolate of redemption.
Leathered and wrinkled
by ever so recent a passage 
of too many yesterdays.

In what haunt hath hope
those tears shed in anguish
amidst gales unrelenting
which snatch at birth
and toss into oblivion.
Unmarked is the...

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Their days are very much the same
Like soldiers marching to the drum
The cadence of the ticking clock
Marking time as each day passes

They wrap themselves in memories
Replayed like notes of a well known song
Steps slowed by the weight of years
Their candles growing short

We look at them...

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If tomorrows never mattered and yesterdays forgot
Living in the present would count much more than not
Our days could have more meaning, each word chosen more precise
Visions may be clearer, not clouded by the past
Every time I'd be with you I'd make each moment last
Your kisses...

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Those walls of my captured annals falling
By steel leviathans devouring my solitude
Capped blasts dropping the once proud structure
No longer is a mans home his palace

Histories cowboys are the future’s vagabonds
Their ranges of ranches a dying lot
Borders now shrinking as the rooms collapse
Giving into the fear...

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I saw my yesterday's love today,
on a quiet, shady, backstreet lane.
I knew his eyes, though his hair was grey,
said he'd forgotten my married name

Or would have called me when moving back
to see how life had been treating me.
Just words said to fill memory's lack
Smiling, we...

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The settled times of yesterdays grow old
And turn a weathered gray inside my mind
My memories have even now turned cold
I need them not to be there to remind
For tomorrows came sooner than I thought
The days and nights have passed in growing speed
My minutes rushing to...

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Between yesterday’s memories
And tomorrow’s expectancies—
                                        ...

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Old flame memories, and game show repeats,
viewed through tobacco, it's smoke fills the room,
loneliness, only, stays glued to defeat,
blue-bottles, can't help, but choke on the gloom.

Dreams like the remote, corroded to rust,
unopened, unpaid, bills sit by the door,
surrendered and lost, to despair and dust,
no-one levelled...

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That was yesterday.
I forgot.
If I could…
I would have just done the laundry.
It’s afternoon.
The moon came out already.
It does that sometimes.
After the moon, I eat.
Laundry.
Socks, shirts, spinning, and churning.
I wish.
That was last night.
I have work today.
I pull out my last clean clothes.
And leave....

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Meet me back on those effervescent days;
                             Let’s swing on shafts of their lingering light,
  ...

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