Butterfly Orgy

They swarm
A flutter of a thousand wings
Browns and golds colliding
A beautiful dance they weave
Screaming along in captivating silence
The mesmerizing sight unfolds
Bright and daring in the sun
And then meet a dismal fate
Windshield wipers make poor mates

Two pink lines

Breathe
Just breathe
Just open your eyes and breathe
Always there is so much pain
A heartbreak each and every time
How important two little lines can be
The beginning of a life or the ending of my hope
Breathe
Don’t think
It will all be okay
Just look
The longest minute of my life
And then it is there
Another line
Pink and sure
Another breath inside of me

One Spring Day

The wind carries away her gentle sigh, unheard
As his fingers play softly with her golden hair
The young boy stares wondrously at the lustful pair
His faith in them is as always, undeterred
The love from the child is frequently undeserved
Brown hair which caresses his beautiful eyes
Smiles that emerge no matter how much he cries
This day in his mind will be forever preserved
As he stood there at that last love joy intersection
And watched as the man came gun in hand
He pointed, screamed, shot, two dead
Grasping each other in undying affection
Stolen watches, wallets, and a wedding band
And tears which intermingled as the blood started to spread

Cancer

Its sound is as always, disgusting.
The incontrollable bought of nausea and fear
That follows is as always, painfully real.
One word, two syllabus.
First part sounds like death.
Sometimes the scar still hurts
The little white line,
That mingles there amid the creases,
Gifts from midnight feedings.
The cancer is as always, terrifying.

Depression

You speak of your depression as though it is a disease
As though there is a cure for your misery.
You attempt to tell me that your sadness is yours,
Not mine.
That it is not my fault that I fail you over and over
Leaving you desiring a clean house,
Dinner made and on the table,
A wife, naked and willing on the bed.
Your depression is treated with pills,
Happiness in capsule form,
Viagra for your broken heart.
Depression is the mask you wear
As though your hatred for me
Can be easily disguised.

Dying

The taste is acidic,
No matter the why.
Ever since that first taste
Death has been an acid,
Eating away
At this spot between my shoulders
That no man can ever touch,
A constant companion
Screaming in my ear
The frailty of man.
There is always this fear of it,
This unexplainable, definite nature
That is independent of time or reason.
And there sits death in his spot,
That spot that no man can touch,
And I watch the hole grow larger
As you begin to fill it.

Amanda’s attempt at a sonnet. Is it correct?

A thousand times I cried for you
My pain shown in sobs and screams
Yet my heart can not find faith in you
Always seeking hope in misbegotten dreams
Logic fails to mend the senses
Blind and burnished from your taste
Locked inside electric fences
Love and desire gone to waste
Tears fall heavy like shattered rain
Tying together your peace with my pain

Cake

Well it appears that I have found a new passion. While struggling to breathe amidst this sea of chores and school, I have found cake decorating. I know. Odd. But it appears to be just another form of art. Here are my first creations. The first cake was just practice. The army girl is an Army medic. She is going to be put on a cake for my husband’s boss. She is a Col. and a nurse. It should be interesting.

In your memory

Classification fails to justify your nature
More than a man, not yet an angel
A gentle gift from god
A reminder of the power of prayer, of hope
A message sent, a message received
Never forgotten
Just lost in translation

Satin

A sea
A vast and lonely sea
Forever draped in cold unbiased hatred
Satin lined and captivating silence
This bed which once held moonlit trysts
Now holds broken trust
A sea of crumpled sheets
Cold where you use to wish to be