Broken Not Forgotten #pain #poetry #photography

I couldn’t pull away today

your pain a wound made fresh

why not tear my flesh away

heart a tear stained mess

you tore the sinews of my heart

its that way for her too

my children look with longing eyes

brown eyes are turning blue

I couldn’t pull my heart away 

your pain is an old tune

he tore at your flesh today

child needs food at noon

we pull together from the shards

women torn by love again

 burden of a life so hard

because we trust in man

I couldn’t pull away today

I saw the break was fresh

put my hanky on your heart

well help you in this mess

turn toward a brand new day

for children you must stand

God will take care of you

He will always hold your hand

Women and children can easily be broken by relationships.

God promises that he will never leave us and He will never forsake us.

Put you hand in His. He shoulders the burdens of the downcast




Puzzle Me #atozchallenge


jagged edges of this heart

unwilling to fit where they’re torn

you forced them once into place

fractured now and forlorn

I dare you, pick up a piece

recognizable pattern no more

place kindness next to an edge

 it may still welcome the warmth


The jig saw puzzle has a curious character. Like a person no two are the same. Each longs to be put together.

Do you like to put jig saw puzzles together???

Broken Elevator #poetry #valentinesday

white bloody rose

haunted by a memory

of an elevator ride

my heart torn in pieces

carved with a sharp knife

if only I could grasp

some meaning in your eyes

I wouldn’t have to work

at reading between the lines

here I am in motion

imagining your kiss

the thorns from a rose

pierced me on the lift

the floor is done rising

eyes lower to the door

open hands left holding

what was broken long before

The Blade #flashfiction


“This wont hurt” he said with false assurance.

The blade was sharp and swift.

Before she knew, it was severed – a connection of  beating hearts

His malefic grin bore no shred of concern.

The tears on her face wailed at the blow.

another week to share a moment of flash fiction with friends over at G-man’s place

Thanks to Creative commons and Pikimota for this blade

What she didnt know – he had applied this blade to many yearning hearts.

Waiting for You #poem (One shot Wednesday)

I sat looking



for One last glimpse

of us


There we were on our bench

the picture so clear

sweet summer fragrance

eyes only for each other


You held me tight

beneath the maple trees

emanating warmth

even in the fall breeze


Words they heard

in our lover’s embrace

carefully conveyed into the night

as though they had done this before


You were only a breath away

whispered never “let you go”

gave me hope for tomorrow

yet  I am here all alone


That love so strong

had one weak link

more than tears rusted through

our loving embrace


So I make a vigil

before our bench

I cast my love

into the frosty night


Into barren arms of naked maples

and cold winter air

“please hold my dreams tight”

they hear me whisper


I listen for hopes of you

things not spoken my dear

perhaps no one will hear

but maybe they will get

through to you

This poem is in honor of the men and women whose love was separated forever by disaster the day that Pearl Harbor was attacked December 7, 1941.

Join us at One Stop Poetry where the poems are always fantastic and inspirational too. One Shot Wednesday is open to anyone interested in sharing their poetry with like minded writers.

Photography: Leslie Moon – Fall bench

Benson Kua – winter bench


Turn off the light when you go (poem)

Put away the light

I can no longer look

at rejection

it’s scars are everywhere


The day you walked out

the sun refused to shine

bilious sky clouded

over my heart


Don’t look at me

that picture must go

the last memory of love

burned out long ago


turn the lights off

when you leave

honey-there is no longer

a remnant of me

Thanks to Neal Fowler

Remembering… Her (One ShotWednesday)


He stood on the edge

never again to hold her

nor call her “mine”



for arms never again held

lips never




from memory of loss

the day he

pushed her away



days he called her

held her close

before he

Left …

Photograph by my talented friend Terence Jones *

Today starts another great One Shot Wednesday. I am always thrilled at the number of poets who come by and share their work.  My writing has improved because of the fine work submitted here. Enjoy One Shot

Turn Around (One Shot Wednesday Poetry)


call out my name

reach for my hand

let me walk

take a stand


Go away

don’t say those words

I grapple  each day

with the sting inside of me


turn around

the final time

Tears of yours

merge with mine

The dance of love is  intricate, flowing, and sometimes stopped mid-stream. Enjoy another week of One Shot wonders. Poetry in the blogsphere  just keeps getting better.

Thank you to a4gpa – what a great dance shot


Lord Tennyson I’m not

Tennyson put it this way:

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

I’m reading this and thinkin

That Lordy T – he wasn’t!!!:

So Lordy Listen here-

gonna give it to you straight

gotta hear me from the start

dat Lord poet  guy

I do not

share his art


I felt it when you left

a piercing to my heart

I shoulda

thought it through

known betta at the start


ya made your way

in a lost and lonely heart

now I’m brokin in pain

sumpins ‘truding

like a dart


Lordy dey is quotin ya

takin words a part

listen fool –

“ya must break away

wit out a brokin heart”


Thanks to Lincolnian for the photo


Announcing another great  One Shot Wednesday!!!

Join us for poetry and a growing community. Write a poem, link up, read the works of other wonderful writers.

Whatever it takes (Flash Fiction)

“Welcome to Heartless House,” the publishing rep said.

“We are confident that you will be one of our brightest stars.”

“Thank you,” she sighed as she clutched her manuscript close.

What he didn’t realize was each printed word was a drop of blood from her broken heart.

“Yes” she smiled “it makes a great story.”

This is just one of many stories in 55 or Flash Fiction. Mr. Knowitall hosts every Friday. Come join us!

These days I am so busy writing I am not shooting

grateful to Calliope for the nice shot