Night Shadow's Dance

 

Sultry moon hidden

dark of night

humidity hangs wet

in the 3 a.m. air

like last night’s underwear

hung on the line to dry

 

Silence is a presence

felt on the tip

of each finger

air has the heaviness

of baited breath

 

She moves swiftly, quietly

through the night stillness

to sit on back deck

sharing a cup of coffee

with the steamy night

 

She waits …

She dreams …

 

Breath held

she watches shadows

move silently

across the yard

quivering in ecstasy

erotic passion

eerily displayed

 

As clouds part to allow

one sliver of moonlight

to brighten the stage

she drops her gown

moves into

the dance of shadows

and disappears

into the coming

Dawn.

Life Work

 

I am continuing listing old poems, making a table of contents. Here's another I particularly like:

Life Work

Work

by Webster’s definition:

“physical or mental effort

directed towards a goal;

A job … employment … occupation …

act or deed ….”

In Webster’s,

describing work

takes up half a page

 

Society deems work

as something

you get paid to do

a service performed or

chores around the house

 

I want to know

about the other kind of “work.”

The work you don’t get paid for

and is often not recognized

or acknowledged by others.

The work that doesn’t

necessarily benefit anyone

but yourself …

and sometimes not even that

 

I want to know

about the work

that is never finished,

the work that if

you don’t do it

 you’ll die

or go crazy

or worse …

--Sasha Wolfe

Priceless Friendship

Different styles

different techniques

different mediums

and yet

we can totally support

each other

 

Maybe it’s

the one common goal

of being realists

in our paintings

that draws us together

 

Feedback and suggestions

are openly given

with the goal

of helping each other

achieve the results

each desire

in our paintings

 

She doesn’t force

her style on me

nor do I

try to convince her

my way

is the better way

 

In this day

when there is so much angst

with those trying to force

their points of view

onto everyone else,

this freedom of speech

between two very good friends

is emotionally refreshing

 

We’re able to speak freely

while remaining true

to our individual styles

I love learning

about her style

and she enjoys

seeing my progress

 

We remain

unique to ourselves

 

Author’s note: When she was leaving, she was saying how much our friendship means to her. Does to me, too. Funny, here I am a word person, and I can never find the right words, and then she was describing how wonderful our friendship is. So precious, so wonderful. –SW

 

  

Self-isolating Cave

I pull myself back

from the world

crawl into a hole

to protect myself

But the woes fall in

on top of me

I beg, I plead

demand them to leave

They mold around me

like a moldy, bad-luck blanket

smothering

any motivation

I lie huddled

in this dank emotional hole

a shivering, miserable

wreck

I may protect myself

from the world

but that doesn’t protect me

from myself

Some days

my self-isolating cave

isn’t the sanctuary

I want it to be.

Whirlpool of Despair

Feeling so hopeless,

so lost,

can’t figure out

how to fix

what went wrong

 

Technology,

when it doesn’t work,

confuses me,

getting live, human help

is near impossible

 

My desperate thoughts

batter against barriers

in hopeless misery,

tears of despair

rob me of all joy

 

Too much time

wasted in futile attempts

to resolve the issue

drains me of any self-worth

and the ability to think straight

 

Drowning in a whirlpool

of frustration

and hopelessness,

I’m sucked down

in its swirling vortex

 

I lie on the seabed,

a useless mental wreck.

Poems on damaged relationships

In these days when it seems like freedom of speech is being censored, and even though tolerance is preached, it seems there is a breakdown in acceptance. Here are some poems I've written in 2021 and reworked yesterday:

When Words Fall in Anger

 
The words sting,
A pause, a silence, a rift
I keep my mouth shut
only saying what absolutely
needs to be said
 
I go about my business
trying not to let –
whatever to call it –
affect me
but it’s too late
 
The red hot lava flows
down the volcano’s side
covering everything in the way
dampening light
snuffing out joy
 
That energy
spills into the room
hangs in the air, unseen
yet felt by those
sensitive to such things
 
I contemplate the reasons
for that attitude
part of me understanding
however, that emotional part of me
can’t help but take it personally
 
It’s really not my fault.
I know that.
It’s nothing to do with me.
I know that.
Still, my spirits crash and burn.

Words on a Page

 Words on a page –

a response

to my statements

Opinions –

insinuating I’m wrong

Disbelief –

that I could

have such a different

point of view from them

 

Heaven forbid

I see beyond the surface

Heaven forbid

I speak to what I see

and believe

is really happening

 

Like always,

the old feelings

of displeasing someone

fill me

 

I try not to be angry,

try not to let the hurtful words

bring me down

nor think poorly of those

whom I consider friends

 

I pull back

vow to myself

not to speak freely again

 

But wait!

I refuse to put up

with negative responses

I would not

speak thusly to them

I hold fast my words,

stand strong in my convictions

I don’t require agreement

only respect

I have the right

to my own beliefs!

 

Last I knew

the First Amendment

has not been revoked –

yet –

Is it becoming

freedom of speech

is only for certain people?

 

My choices are

not for argument,

not to name call,

not for debate.

 

And, if at some point,

I am proven wrong,

I will be the first

to admit it.

Severed Friendship

 

Sometimes relationships end

friends become distant

and drift apart

beliefs becoming

intolerable to the other

 

The time comes

to say goodbye

to let it go

for sanity’s sake,

for self-preservation

 

Told to believe in myself

but when my inner wisdom

went against her belief for me

I found I was only respected

when I followed her edicts

 

Disbelief that my views

were so opposite of hers,

her name-calling words

became the knife

that severed the friendship

 

By that point,

I no longer cared.

I handed her

the sharpened knife

and walked away

without retort.

 

 

Sometimes Life is Like This

 

Heated words

tear me to the soul

rubbing salt into

an already open wound

festering within

I cry for hours

Sandpaper tears

make my eyes

heavy and sore

my mind feels lost

issues pile upon issues

as one thing after another

seems to go wrong

or gets too complicated

I cry for hours

Emotional scars deepen 

I claw feebly

at the walls

trying to get back

my usual positive vibes

but with no energy

left to spare this day

I don’t care

I wallow in misery

and cry for hours

Sometimes life is like this

--Sasha Wolfe