Posts Tagged ‘poetry; sad; emotional’

Poem about an Amusement Park
that shuts down
 over the
 death of one
 of its
young patrons.
***
Graphic Art by Susan Joyner-Stumpf (aka sonnetwolf designz)

THE QUIET OF A CAROUSEL

 

Even the air spun wrong

it felt the blow of leaves like circus bullets

two things that should never happen

a Fair should never run out of ice cream

and a Theater should never close.

 

Slice the breath with a kitchen knife

space is out sick today

having a hard time catching the sky

the cement paths of the park

emptier than the

the silence of footfalls

that only echo past loneliness.

 

An assembly of shadows

gather to mourn the loss of realism

swirling and screaming around with

spectral jealousy

why is it

we look at them as extensions of ourselves

but shadows look at us

as what they used to be

not remembering how to call us back

to them.

 

This can’t end good

statues feel the severance of

hands that molded them from

vats of liquid bronze

their likeness to austere form

feels the tendency to melt

beyond recognition of solid mass

now apertures having lost the

human-quality dream.

 

The rifts and shrills of laughter

weep in another dimension

cascades of grief slide down

walls of alien fortitude

we hear it on Earth

as the change in subtle wind

knocking at our tears

not reasoning why a sound

we cannot hear, only feel it

as the smile that will not

come.

 

“Something special will come of this,”

says the entrance Billboard with the

face of a scary clown, lips moving

in slow-motion, reinforcing the

petrifying cracking lines of an

exaggerated, painted face.

 

Why is it

somewhere in this nameless town

a little boy dies

and his memory shuts down

the flow of life and whispers here

he remembers the Cotton-Candy Man

and wonders where he is today. . .

 

And why for this little boy

do suddenly those wooden horses

on a quiet carousel

come alive with welcoming whinny’s

that only HE can hear?

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1II_tEqRH8s

 

Fatal Oblivion

 

A morning

remembered only

for its damask entry

a velvet touch

along hemlined

quasi-dream.

 

This leisure waking state

nebulous of prism-light

golden-stillness enfolding

a noncommittal fog

of half-twilight, sinking.

 

Shadows flit then tease

broken, seeking form

from invisible placenta-thought

retinas thrust inside blindness

external visions impaired,

neatly aborted ~

fatal oblivion.

 

Memory, snow blanketed

with intermittent waves

of fire and cold

tug from quiescent core

weeping through

fabrics of mortal reluctance.

 

It’s at this moment

we are most vulnerable

abandoned even in love.

Your arms wrapped snugly

around me feel a distant

world away.

 

As you kiss the air between us,

all realism asunder,

bent in the coil of an

arctic caress,

my lips acknowledge

a measure of unspeakable hunger,

the first light rays

of unintended emptiness.

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

NO CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE

Nothing will ever compare

To that tremor,

That fragile, dripping quiver

Reluctantly from

Your shadowy lip,

Burning, for now,

Our goodbyes

Oh Darling!

The fragments of my weeping

Soul as I stood there,

Numb as sunlight

Caught trapped in the pulled

Shades, struggling despite

Incredible odds

To remain strong, steadfast,

And bright.

So I fall into you limp, a

Ragdoll, pleading,

Begging you,

Please don’t

Go.

“It’s only for a few days…”

The sweet breath

Of your whisper speaks

Into disheveled strands

Of my blonde hair.

The door~

That cursed door

Between us now,

Your suitcase and attaché

In either hand.

I hear the engine

Roar.  That last roar…

Tulips in snow have

Nothing on me.

Their wintry surprise at

Least will thaw.

I stand here frozen now,

A mummy, no

Place to

Go.

Oh Darling!

And then that fatal call,

Telling me you’ll never come home….

The

Horrible accident.

Oh Darling!

 

I still hear your

Words now,

“It’s only for a few days…”

…….And then days turn into a lifetime.

No one ever told me

Waiting for Eternity would

Be so slow…

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

Graphic Art by Susan Joyner-Stumpf (© SonnetWolf Designz)

HOOF AND WING

Simple slight of hoof

Beats hard the dust

And carves through

Space with invisible wing

His manner of weeping

To keep me in longing

Parade of brilliance

Fine Ivory horse

Of silken unbridled power

You corral intangible wind

As though your mighty

Royal seed

Nostrils drink of stolen rain

Frightening storms your children

I ache beneath the thunder

Of them that rage beyond

My grasp ~ I sit

Here fused to stone

Tears made of blown glass

Shorn of secrets

The millennia has whispered

With galloping lust

Outside the deafened

Aura of our bloodsouls

Oh ~ cursed are we for

Once to be a mere Human!!!

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

Trajectory

What spoon of withered white

Cast its shadow high and still

Left with frozen regret

Merely invisibleness left to mourn

Stark the gifted glare

Trajectory of bleeding air

Satin spins its weathered tear

Kiss of infamy

Passion slips into sleep, re-thorned.

Oh how we tremble

When loneliness taps

That heartless door

Chaos hums with bruised light

Faint of darkness sweet

Eerie taste of sullen echoes

That weeps out stars tonight.

Spill out a new but crusted dawn

Eyes close to the brilliant hues

Yet what loins gave up their fiery fight

Its comet shackled in frozen flight

To speak your unloved name, alas

Not of an airy voice divine

That made you an orphan again!

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

loveless wind

maybe if I stood in the sun, I thought,

it would thaw my uncertainties,

                   my disillusion about the train tracks

of life and how, as mortals, we get derailed

or miss the depot entirely.

perhaps if I let the wind take over,

                   caress my many sorrows,

then I could possibly forgive the

the lost embrace

of humans

                   who had no desire to want me;

only to remind me that ice doesn’t just

form in the heart of winter.

          or that if it wanted to, (and

                             mostly did)

it could leave me shivering with

wounded wonder.

oh but that curious,

cruel wind has not the strength

of unrequited love

                             to knock me over.

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

All rivers lead me back

All rivers lead me back to this one;

This one who’s song I heard first

And still feel its ache coating

Tangipahoa River, Ponchatoula, LA, my summer home

My bones with an ageless

Truth that a time comes to let things go

Just as passionate as when we held onto it

At the initial meeting, the love sounding

Like a drum in beating hearts.

All rivers lead me back to this one;

The Tangipahoa River, my childhood still

Left behind in the veins of her current

And the restless gurgle of her surf

Licking the willowed bank.

Here and there, a Loon, or a

Bullfrog, croaking the balance

Of dusk and dawn into innocent play,

Its sweet taste still lingering in my mouth,

Poking my soul to rip and tear,

And finally to stir with remembrance

That a river, any river, can lead us

Either away or towards the things that

Once mattered so dear.

It’s the unraveling sorrow that lies deep

In her shallows and hidden depths when

Your back is turned forever to whispers never

Before acknowledged, and, to this day,

When that river calls, its echo

Is the only sound that is left

                   to answer.

´¯)*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¯)

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

Tangipahoa River, Ponchatoula, LA, my summer home