Following are two poems: one by Betty Duris, and one by me. We hope you enjoy our work. Check the blog often for new posts.
CEMETERY OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS
Some secrets shine brighter
in the spotlight of reflection.
But caution, should you venture there.
Repressed memories are a gift, allowing you to go forward without the baggage
of what should not have been.
But it was haunting;
would not let me bury it back into the cemetery of forgotten dreams.
Something hit the switch
that allowed a myriad of klieg lights to illuminate it center stage, cerebral cortex.
And it would not be denied its day in the Broadway of “I will not be ignored.”
So here I sit,
second row, seat four,
waiting for the tableau to begin, for the dread of rapid pulse,
for the sad siege against my soul.
Dim the house lights.
Cue the Overture.
Raise the curtain.
“Good morning, heartache.”
Hi, Hi, yes you, how are you?
I’ve seen you here before.
You may not have noticed me.
I’m here all the time, but usually I stay still.
All I have is my words,
The words that are popping up on the screen.
I can’t shout, or yell, or even make a whistling sound.
I can’t tap, or hum, or breathe.
All I have is my words.
Words to attract you, to entice you, to excite you.
All I have is my words, words that will connect us.
Words that will make you want to stay.
Words to make you want to know what is in the next paragraph,
The next page, the next chapter.
Words that will make you say “Yes, I understand. Yes, I hadn’t thought of that”
Words that will keep you awake, that you will remember.
Yes, there is an engaging attractive painting on the cover,
But it is only there to tease you, to catch your eye.
It is my words, flowing into sentences, then paragraphs and pages that will keep you here, and bring you back the next time.