The glass once lucid
now deflects glow differently.
A chuckle clenched in the wind,
blanching and flaming.
Where were we?
Footprints echo, retreat, advance
sagging floor, missing nails.
Not long enough--
like a wheeze folding in and out,
a beam of light held in a still moment.
Sagging floor, nails missing,
steps forth, then retreat.
Where were we,
blanching and flaming,
a chuckle loosed in the wind—
now the glass, no longer lucid,
deflects the glow differently.
Abstract work of art
holder of loved memories
hung on many walls
Ego frames goals, subject to change
So fickle is our heart
Why not thought patterns rearrange
And thus make a fresh start
Animate zest and zeal
Pause in silence to feel
Love alone is real
Desire controls
Ego frames goals
And here I am this lonely, moonless night
All by myself in golden candlelight
The room is still, as I begin to think
My thoughts alone would have me take a drink
But then, I see across the low-lit room
Just what I need to lift me from this gloom
A table stands, three tiers to make a shelf
For picture frames, my family, myself
Each one I see, a simple work of art
By love displayed, each one to touch my heart
For Grandma’s smile, a frame of gilded glow
To warm my purpose more than you could know
A setting formed of jewels, sapphired delight
Surrounds my sweetest mother, dressed in white
My turn on Santa’s knee when I was three
Is mounted red and green, now just for me
My brother’s love, a birthday cake in view
The mem’ries call me, just to name a few
So as my candle flickers its demise
The tears of love and joy now fill my eyes
For could I ever really be alone
Oh, not with all the love that I’ve been shown
I think now as I start to say goodnight
I’ll sleep well with such reverie in sight
Bare are these walls...
I now stand before,
that were once adorned with picture frames.
The brown boxes are loaded,
and these frames of which I speak wait within.
The door frame, the frame of the home,
the borders that surround my garden,
and the walkways I meander in the mornings,
frame my memories, of a time once not bounded.
And time... the time I once had in abundance,
is now narrowed, like a punctuation that follows a thought,
or a phrase that concludes a story...
or, a casket that encapsulates a creation.
Frames on a wall or frames buried beneath the soil...
all are painstakingly aligned in parallel for the viewing...
breathing life back to our memories...
like some kind of voodoo.
"'Cause I'm a million miles away
And at the same time I'm right here in your picture frame."
Thank you, Hendrix.
I saw your grandmother
in an old black and white photo
it was in a silver frame,
she was buck naked in a Buick,
I thought: 'Hey you.’
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show
you were in the audience;
you had a pic of the killer
Ernesto (Che) Guevara
on your T,
he looked like me
and I said, ‘Hey you.’
Behind old photographs
all our secret lives
remain radioactive.
At the funeral home
I watch you enter the flames,
saw silver frames melting
and I thought: ‘Hey you.’
Frames of Unnamed Memory
David J Walker
Flicker
Faster
Each frame of a memory
Named or
Unnamed
But still remembered
Verisimilitude
Considered
Plausible
Real
A semblance of pretense
The veneer
of an alternate allegory
I light a candle and pray
Every Sunday
For the mercy of
A deep
deep
sleep
so let me indicate
the way and the detours to never
show
what light that in slices shines a resounding no
tell
how many painful steps and how far they go
(I furnished the house with pots of poison
sharp scissors and sinister frames
the windows bite the day
the rugs hide traps
and the door won't let you out)
welcome to this kind of end
Colors of the sunset burst from behind the mountain range
Across the desert it looked like a fire blazing in the sky
I will never forget the miles traveled, to reach a sight like this
It still blazes in my memory after all these years
Sometimes, it’s that perfect moment, the timing is just right
When the world is suddenly seen in a different view
Struck with amazement, by all that this creation can be
Across the country, changes happen, realizations come about
Lessons learned by striking sights, through luring miles and time
While blazing new trails to travel, all in new frames of mind
Heidi Sands
1/21/22
Stalling the hand of age in silver frames
Yesteryears crawling around the edges
As time, falling like November leaves
Across younger eyes, enthralling still
Photographs tell a lifetime's recalling.
11/02/21
Something Beautiful in 5 Lines contest
Sponsor: charles messina
Before the fog of trauma I saw pearly gates
Ajar with festivities of joy and laughter
I remember frozen moment in time
Brazen forbidden touch, my mind unguarded.
The number three precedes four or more
The late Veteran's flag is triangular
My frame of mind saw oblivion
I stood broken before fog of addiction.
One, and only One seals broken frames
The prodigal snapped to his senses
Gold of souls won't rest unpolished
Fog of years will be abolished.
I've read a thousand books before
Only one filled my senses with faith galore
One, and only one gave filtered smile
A perfect bloom beyond borders.
*
There is a war in the laws of the in-laws
When family is also work, you get a title and a position with conditions
Past life comes as an omission and commission
Roles and actors in audition
As for the mind it sometimes finds itself in a suicidal palace
Thoughts can just parade into the ground
Who is who…?
Behind the trope to dethrone the skin-tone of the child within the throne
What? Yes its dark when one is your own to disown
Father and son can share traits and wives can trade places
From a Prince to a Duke like a Princess and a Duchess all matches
Smiles makeup faces but pain loves family ruptures
Tears are structures of a bleeding soul
Guess what, its still patent there two side to a story
Don't just rejoice and see the glory
This is just a drop of the runaway royal bloodline
The royal tree is yet to be rooted
I saw your grandma
she was buck naked
in a Buick
and I thought 'hey you’.
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show
you were in the audience.
You wore a pic
of the killer Ernesto Guevara
on your T -
I thought 'hey you’.
Behind old photographs
secret lives
remain radio-active
there is fall-out.
I saw you in a fishy tale
about sleeping under the waves
and I thought 'hey'.
At a funeral home
you look out from
a self-portrait and its silver frame
I watch you enter the flames,
the silver flames.
'Hey you'.
depravation of
photographs not yet taken-
angel’s silhouette
I used:
howmanysyllables.com
July 13, 2019
hours
float
in dreams
trailing night
with chill of silence—
as new moon reflects waves beyond
flights across horizons blurred by kind reminisces…
I enter my inner world, fog of loose images dancing on silhouetted frames.
1/5/2019
Fibonnaci Contest of Dear Heart
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