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Posts tagged ‘Poems’

Untitled – Day 4


You stand at the bottom of two roads.

A triangle of hell.

A fork.

Choose one.

Choose right, or choose left,

or choose right, or choose wrong.

You are sleepless and restless and dazed and jumpy and wired and crazy,

because neither road seems bad or good or bad or good or good or bad.

Days turn into nights turn into days turn into nights.

Different people, different places, different animals, different loves, and different losses to experience.

And different climates.

Sunshine or storms or moonbeams or rainbows.

Indecision is a loud buzzing in your ears.

Mystery is swirling around your head.

Your life has become blurry.

There is no sign, no epiphany, no wise old owl.

There are only lists of pros and cons and pros and cons,

written on receipts and napkins and post-it notes.

Your life, on a post-it note.

You close your eyes, put your arm straight out in front of you, point your finger, spin around and around, stop, open your eyes,

And stay.





Painting Baseboards

(I actually wrote this a few years back, but recently tweaked and edited it)

An empty house with walls of white,

echoed breath and fire light.

Alone, I wonder where you are,

brushstrokes soothe like a strumming guitar.

Repeated motion of comfort and gloom,

I slowly move from room to room.

The task at hand to block the pain,

as questions arise, what will remain?

And still belief in the night so dark,

sustaining my will to paint it stark.

Cover the wood and make it clean,

quiet effort, complaisant routine.

I step outside to clear my head,

a deep breath in holds words unsaid.

My body aches and seeks to rest,

on a concrete floor, a mind obsessed.

The Little White Dog

I almost didn’t go for a run yesterday. It was hot, and I was doing everything I could to talk myself out of going, but I went anyway. I’m very happy that I did, because I was witness to a sweet little moment in life that inspired me to write this silly little poem.

The Little White Dog

I saw an old man out walking today
Checking his vines, in his own way

Short and round, with a khaki hat
Yellow shirt, and pants that matched

Dusty and hot, but he didn’t mind
I knew this was his special time

Up ahead was a dog, little and white
Lying in the dirt, the man in his sight

He faced the man, he was watching him walk
Waiting on him, his eyes were locked

Not a glance my way, just a slight turn of his ear
He cared only for the man, yet he knew I was near

The man looked my way, gave me a smile and a wave
I smiled back at him, this gentle man of gray

As the gap closed between them, the scene about to unfold
To me, the silent observer, a story of love forever told

Jumping up on the man, as if he’d not seen him for days
And with a pat on his head, he sent the dog on his way

Off he ran…far, fast, and free
But not too far, before he looked back to see

Where was his man, was he still in sight?
Yes, there he was, and this place looks right

So the little dog stopped again and lay down to wait
For the man who is the world to him, his very best mate.

Haiku 1

Tangled in cotton,

Fragmented dreams, not my own.

Twisted existence.

Oh, Bicycle








Eyes on the line,

Fighting the wind,

Whistling in your ears,

Beauty all around.


The sweet smell of green,

And the brightness of blue,

The black of the asphalt,

Reminder of risk.


Shadows beckon to briefly cool,

Branches at your eyes,

Potholes low,

Heightening senses.


Sinewy legs spinning,

Pumping up the hills,

Pushing to the limit,

Satisfaction overflowing.


Synergy electrified,

Without separation,

Sweating, breathing, grasping, grinding,

Peacefulness flows.


We are one,

We are beautiful,

The wheels of delicate balance,

Oh, Bicycle.


Until the blue of the sky washes over me,

And my blood no longer flows,

Will my mind become still,

And the disquiet cease.


As I question what is to be written,

With an inconvenient heart,

And the longing to know,

Is not within my grasp.


To believe in a destination without patience,

Is a dark and endless odyssey,

As discovery is fleeting,

The mystery, elusive.


Who is the emissary that delivered the disturbance,

That changed the direction of the wind,

What is to be revealed,

And for what purpose?


I search for faith,

To see with unclouded clarity,

To know that what has always been beyond my reach,

May one day open up to me.

A Memory

Walking alone

Lost in my own world

Always the daydreamer

The wind blowing circles around me

Whipping my hair across by face

The sun warm on my back

Golden grass to my knees

The smell of summer

The sound of the waves breaking

A shortcut off the path

White seashells in my hand

Tiny blue beads around my wrist

Cutoff jeans and yellow flip flops

I pause to look down from the bluff

A black and white dog barking

A rainbow colored kite

Someone calling my name

A smile

So Does the Heart

Like the waves of the ocean that rise with intensity and might, then recedes in peaceful quiet, so does the heart,

Like the dry creek, at one time home to glorious, abundant life, but now stands stagnant, so does the heart.

Like the glistening ice crystal on a blade of grass that melts with the dawn, so does the heart,

Like a beautiful flower that opens toward the sun, letting the rays of light warm her in all her vulnerability, only to finally wither and suffer, so does the heart,

Like an overripe piece of fruit still on the vine that splits apart from the volume of goodness it can no longer contain, then eventually falls, so does the heart,

Like the eagle that soars with wings spread, regardless of what is below, knowing only the joy of flight, so does the heart,

Like a little bird trapped in the jaws of a cat, wishing freedom or death, so does the heart,

Like the grain of sand that invades the oyster’s shell and becomes so troubling that he turns it into something wonderful, so does the heart,

Like the torn flesh of an animal, helpless to defend itself against a more powerful predator, mercilessly bleeding, so does the heart,

Like flowing, hot lava from a volcano coming from inside the earth to meet the cold, light of day where it ultimately hardens and turns to stone, so does the heart,

Like a supernova that bursts in the night sky with the heat of a thousand suns, never to be known or seen by a living soul, so does the heart,

Like the flame of a forest fire burning out of control with relentless destruction, but with the promise that all things will flourish again, so does the heart.

A Left Turn


A journey in the dark

A walk into a vacancy

Where uncertainty lingers

Where regrets remind

And thoughts possess

Though courage is harvesting

There may be weapons to carry

There may be beliefs to bury

Only the strength of the soul

And the heart of the willing

Can break the restraints

To free the captive mind

And the telling of a story

Which is clearer with the dawn

Words unspoken

Is a path not chosen

Gretchen L. Kelly, Author

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