Gone-Love, Life Unlived

V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #25: Un-lived Lives

You were my unlived life…

Mere child, I looked in your

Oceanic eyes, rode the planes

Of your face with my fingertips

Through glass of picture frame

Kissed coolness of your lips there

And clung like drowning girl

To your voice, every intonation

Heard from farthest-afar.

I knew you in silhouetted profile and

Purposeful posture, stride…each gesture.

It was love, dire need, passion, unrequited

Longing…adoring obsession.

Imagination intense, pictorial, I would never

“Grow out of” this attachment, dislocated

Parallel life—nor traverse infeasible

Distance in time, miles, heart.

Impossible was only a technicality, my

Soul assured…you would have walked

Same streets as I, hand in hand, if you could

If there were not 32 years, a million miles

A sequestered world defining our boundaries.

At every crossroad, crisis, I reached for you

In dark labyrinth of hunger…found you there.

When you no longer occupied Island of Earth

Having sailed final voyage…restrictions

Dissolved, nothing left to encumber…you became

Mine, unfettered…gone-love-ghost forever…

My life-unlived preserved in amber.

Image: Pixabay.com

©j.a.case & Keyhole Poetry, 2018 ~ All rights reserved.

AUTHOR DOES NOT ENDORSE ADVERTISEMENTS WHICH MAY APPEAR.

Advertisements

Bucket List: To Be Free

https://katmyrman.com/tag/bucket-list/

Could have been us…

50 years, maybe you’d

Have figured out I wasn’t

Extension of you, but separate

And not your slave

You lacked interest in learning me

Healthy love was foreign language

Too broken, no strength to wait

For ‘maybe things will change’

I can’t even envy old couples I see.

©j.a.case & Keyhole Poetry, 2018 ~ All rights reserved.

AUTHOR DOES NOT ENDORSE ADVERTISEMENTS WHICH MAY APPEAR.

Our Painted World

What do you See? Nov/27/2018

You might have painted world for me…

Broad brushstrokes lighting seasons

With melded ocean hues

Night ‘n day, tidal hush, waves of froth-edged blue

Pointillistic sequin-starlight, periwinkle dusk

Pastel bouquet, tentacled, sea anemones

Trees drip sapphires all year-round

Beneath them fragrant lush jade ground

Lifted, blissed, above mad Earth

Siren songs waft ‘mid wind chimes

There we’d love, mute clock e’er stopped

At perfect younger time…

Dream me another canvas, dear

With books that float, a word-full boat

I will bide adoringly, fill pages, penning lines

Imaginary memories, far-fetched romantic rhymes.

©j.a.case & Keyhole Poetry, 2018 ~ All rights reserved.

AUTHOR DOES NOT ENDORSE ADVERTISEMENTS WHICH MAY APPEAR.

Blizzard Child

Image: Pixabay.com

Just a bud, the sleepy child…
Fine dark hair contrasting against
The snow…no one could see her curled
Against the birch trunk, among trees
Lined like guardians keeping watch.

Chimes had been ringing for days
Bell rope cinched between
Chapped, worried hands:
Where could she be?

Townsfolk prayed for a sign
And busy whispers went on
Did someone take her?
Was she murdered?

The trees knew…she had run
Away to them, small as she was
Seeking protection, freedom…
They bent their branches, created

Canopy, covering her chilled form.

Wind blew, pushing furious icy storm
Forth, turning her tears to pearls
And diamonds as she slept…
Soon it was a blizzard.

Only angels could be discerned
Amid the whooshing white, their
Feathered wings beating rhythmically…

They had come for the child
Who’d been tossed aside like trash, and
Lifting her, lifeless, they returned Home.

©j.a.case & Keyhole Poetry, 2018 ~ All rights reserved.

AUTHOR DOES NOT ENDORSE ADVERTISEMENTS WHICH MAY APPEAR.

The Story Begins…

Image: Pixabay.com

Adrift on autumn breeze

Memories, like leaves

Carried through air before

Falling soft upon first frost

It was summer when we met

I, just a small child

Hair in dark ponytail

Feet in little red tennies

Jeans and checked shirt

Were suitable for

Attending rodeo

My parents went to get

Refreshments, never returned

But I found you

Back of the chutes

Impressed you with

Precocious knowledge

Of your career stats

Names of broncs you

Drew, high-point rides

But I could tell you

Nothing about myself

Beyond first name

I would become

Your foundling child

Consume your heart

With trembling flame

©j.a.case & Keyhole Poetry 2018 ~ All rights reserved.

Advertisements may appear but are not endorsed by author.