I am a ghost

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I’m some weird fantasy that he does and doesn’t believe in. I have this sort of shadow life. I don’t want to be a ghost.

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How?

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Trying to tell you

that I don’t care about

your physical state as

an obstacle to us

don’t care about your material objects

or who you once were

that new dreams can be made

new adventures achieved

That I love you till every fiber of my being

aches with concern, care, the longing to ease

the suffering I see

Trying to tell you

I see an angel in that hospital gown

a halo surrounding a head of silver hair

floating bright glass floss

sparkling as a Christmas angel’s locks

that would I would sell my soul to touch

have that head lay into my palm

and rub your temples

ease your mind

stay with you through all the pain

and the uncertainties

Soothe the broken wings

and  have you allow me to simply love you the way you are

If only I knew how to reach you

and make you believe

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© 2018 Louise Ann Stowell – All Rights Reserved

Pictures courtesy of Pixabay

Danger

powder keg

Walking out

away from the drama

I do not care

do not care if you don’t understand mechanics

or physics

don’t care if you don’t want to listen

to someone trying to tell you

the powder keg

will blow

ill kempt

the keg is leaking

and all it needs is a spark

 

Walking away from the disfunction

that the world sees anyway

knows it’s there

but is curious to see for how long

it will last

Walking away from the ills and bills and bullshit

refusing to walk through the crap anymore

Still I am the fool for noticing

but I’ll keep my mouth shut

collect the paycheck

 

 

Something sparkles

noticing the feeble thread of powder burn

to its destination

and I walk away

Doesn’t matter

Don’t care

 

©2018 Louise Ann Stowell  – All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

 

 

 

Sutro

ledge - poem - sutro

Crumbling with every draw

the ocean pounds the shore

taking little bits of iron, mortar, glass

robbing the past in the present

thoughts pounding in my head

dragging away blood, bone, futures, love

waiting on my staircase above

both hopeful and hopeless

for the final breach

knowing I belong

in this forbidden space

dangerous from age

perilous from the elements

my once hidden aerie

now slowly being nibbled away

like my heart

I have no power over the ruin of either

no more than I have power

over time, the sea, or you love

Lifting up my wings with the gulls

I sail over Sutro

to land in peace in the sea

 

© 2018 Louise Ann Stowell – All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

Please Silence My Mind

Transformation

She is working through it

a mental scrap book no one will see

collecting bits and pieces of her lives…past lovers…past holidays

wrapped in foiled papers and bows

years of giving and smiles

boxes of Christmas ornaments lying dormant

in a storage shed

No tree for them

No apartment or home

No time for Thanksgiving

But Halloween stayed on

she is living with ghosts

that will not be exorcised

replaying scenes or screwups decades old

alone

bipolar butterfly

waiting for the Klonopin

to make the final transformation

 

© 2017 Louise Ann Stowell All Rights Reserved

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/transformation/

 

Storm Drifted

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This wild storm tonight won’t allow me to sleep. I have tossed and turned..a small boat on the sea. Thoughts colliding and crashing into stone cliffs tearing at my slumber. I drift aimlessly in the wind; rudderless. Searching for the safe haven of arms that will hold me in the dark night and guide me peacefully into shore.

 

©2017 Louise Ann Stowell  All Rights Reserved

Picture courtesy of Pixabay

The Stranger Beast

Lion tamer

Droll

No  something more

hard edged

biting that went beyond

a dry amusement

the stranger trotted out details of my life

in a circus act fashion

making sure the exciting bits

were painful

each bite taken

precise and deliberate

I had no choice but to whip

the little man with my own tongue lashing

getting the conversation under my control

well beaten and skulking back to his own cage

to lick his wounds

while I walked away

the victor.

©2017 Louise Ann Stowell All Rights Reserved

Photo is from  a piece of Victorian scrap

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/droll/

Harbinger

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The sky had that taste and smell of snow

as it gets this close to Thanksgiving

Walking the trail at Mud Lake

there were few fisherman now

Only the rustle and hiss

of the wind through the cattails

Overhead the familiar que of a V began to emerge

as one goose after another joined its mate in the air

the reeds shuttering and shaking in their take off

 snow began to fall lightly

as if by their command

as they squeaked and honked passing overhead

Another year has fled with them

©2017 Louise Ann Stowell All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/honk/

 

Marchbank Park – Daly City 1967

marchbank

Ka

Thunk

Ka   thunk

Kathunk

The ball

Slapped the pavement

While white gulls

Circled overhead

Screaming obscenities

At the game

Below

A girl walks past

The chain link fence

Sand crunching

Under the thick soles of heels

Legs and arms

Thin and tan

Ka Thunk

Swish-clink of metal

As the ball falls

Through

Cat calls whistle

Mingling with cries

Of the gulls

The girls walks by

Down the hill

Past cypress tress

 green park lawn

horizontal line

Of Skyline Blvd

3 miles away

 blue flashing water beyond

Her eyes pick out the silhouette

Of the horse stables

Where she’d rather be

Riding than walking

A paper pirate skull

Shakes side to side

Staring down at her

As it dips in the breeze

The boy’s kite soars higher

Scaring no one but

Gulls

He stops running

Black high tops

Slick with city water

And shards of green confetti

The air is sharp

With the tang of cut warming grass

©3/29/2015 LAS All Rights Reserved