Walking Down Prospect St

Walking down Prospect St
Lifting my cheeks to flowing raindrops
The deep melodic tone beating off of railroad tracks
I breathe deep, soaked to skin
So happy to be alive.

Mexican couple carrying
plastic bags of groceries
enough for tonights dinner
laugh as they pass
the wife balances a flat of eggs in one hand
smacks her husbands ass with the other.
Simplicity is the root of all happiness.

Lillac trees sway
to the breeze of speeding cars
Puddles splash up on
my soaked shoes as they squish squish squish
like a Kerouac haiku.
Funny the crazy looks you get
walking through afternoon rain.

Like the smile I got from you

- Diana Rose

(featured in the poetry forum 10.30.10)

Just Five Minutes

I...pick up the phone
and the sound of your voice
never ceases..
to make blush rise to cheeks
to make heart pound a little faster
and you talk
about everything and nothing
and I listen

and I hear...all the things that
add up to the reasons that
I need five minutes...

It isn't much in the scheme
of time,
five minutes that you can count off on one hand
Hands that touch...and touch to feel
all the spaces that lead to me
losing my breath.

A poet once said, I'm a prisoner of words
locked up in my head
and I cannot find my way out
the words have become voices that
just remind me
of why it is easier to remain silent
it is the easy way out
you keeping on talking and me
I keep listening

With just five minutes
I could count down the reasons
of why I can't imagine a day
without you in it.
Of how maybe we don't need labels
conditions and expectations
to have love
I don't need promises, and I don't believe in forever
I lost that illusion somewhere
back when life was a mystery
and I was too blind to see..

In just five minutes,
I could look you in the eye
and say it doesn't matter where we're going
it doesn't matter where we've been
It is the here and now with the clock ticking that
means a damn.

I picked up the phone
every time wanting to break in
and say wait...
just five minutes...
you may not want me as I want you
and that is tearing a hole in my heart
Just five minutes...
would bring me to say I don't need
anything
more than
closing the space between
and meeting somewhere in the middle
of circumstances and indefinites
that confuse me.

yes confuse me
because you dance around the obvious
saying much and leaving a whole lot out
of the translation
I know things arent perfect,
and I know things are far from easy
but what...
I pause, because five minutes
isn't enough
to say I love you
Five minute...and the chance was gone.

- Diana Rose

(featured in the poetry forum 04.15.10)

The Only Love of a Junkie
- down with the [sic]ness

"all the things burned . . and we sit there with blue powdered high [priced] extremities and cheap dime store residue at our fingertips and pray the smell won't reach the babies . . the solution won't be in the hands of the young, oh no . . . they're too small to see that the world is our trailer and we live huddled too close, day in and day out..." Frankie Metro

the high was his love...

burning a hole in the fine fibers that once believed...
lullaby dreams are make believe and
only junk is what remains in this picture...
the rest went up in flames
mistaken as foil
charred reminders of what once was.
he blocked everything else out as a bad reminder of what he gave away.
he would have even sold his child to get high...
he would have given anything away...and did.

the high was his love...

time slipped by him,
forgotten were birthdays, holidays...
other peoples' wants were not his own
her dreams were not his
there was no happily ever after
there was this moment and this gasp of air
and that stream
while his mind drifted away
money slipped through his fingers
paying the dealer for his next fix became his ritual
payday was a new supply
forget the electric bill,
she can get her own heat man...
and this high was losing its charm,
for instead of rolling over and needing her in his arms
he needed his blue veined mistress
that cold dawn puff through metal pipe
that he hid where he thought she didn't see

the high was his love...

the white lady...
blaming the nose-bleed on the baby
how high could he go...
burn and cook them together, melted on a spoon
make it all go away a little while
it was all too much
the children, the tiny house
fuck all that mundane bullshit
it could all disappear...
mix the white with the green and make Christmas
all year...
cause she just wasn't fun anymore
fuck that good for nothing bitch
she had no jewelry left to pawn
the last diamond he ripped from her ear last week
bitch just wouldnt give it up

the high was his love
little white crosses
licked off the chest of the stripper upstairs
while her friend found his creme filled center

rolling the days away
rolling down that junk filled creek
where the dealer made house calls for a price
and nothing else mattered
but the euphoria
the high was his love...
and he woke up
with three frost bitten toes
under an overpass bridge somewhere in Iowa
where did it all go
the junk is all gone...
and someone stole his shoes
his nose still was working
he smelled something green
that would do for now.

the high was his love...
all else was forgotten.

- Diana Rose

(added 04.15.10)

Pieces Of Me

I'm watching you
As the sun rises through filtered shades
I sit wrapped in only a blanket
Crocheted by the hands that hours before
Caressed every inch
With delicate touch
More than just the kisses that left shudders
down my spine...currents upon waves
More than the moments I levitated, curved to reach every inch of you
I am still drenched in the thought of you
 
Sleeping head to pillow
I know you don't feel what I feel
Primal heat and longing only
scratch the surface
of this thing between us
Is it love? What is that?
In this lifetime we search
and when we tire of the search we dance.
How we find the partners
is destiny turning the page,
karma's clock ticking
till we meet in the middle of the chessboard
to where you and I are now.
 
Even the pawn can steal the king.
With the right moves it is all about time
space and opportunity.
So given the opportunity
it is all up to you.
Look down...
you have these pieces
all lined up
neatly in a row,
My heart beats to
your every whispered word,
Damn it my breath catches
when you call my name.
no one says it like you,
My body responds to you
till we are both swimming
in the sea of our own making,
slick with sweat, never caring...oblivious.
My lips long to linger
long past the hour of obligation,
for it is that hour
that feeds the soul.
With these pieces
you have claimed...I am holding
the final prize.
I watch you sleep and wonder
when will the final piece fall.
Will I give up the challenge,
Because you and I are both
creatures of the same
you not giving up,
me... not ready to accept
that I want the whole package.
Don't misunderstand,
I am not talking about
merging two houses,
I am talking about being real.
I am talking about admitting
that life is better spent investing
in entwining souls..
than picking up and moving on
when things don't go to suit you.
You see...
even if you got up
in an hour from now
brushed your teeth and kissed me goodbye
for the final time
I would still be here.
If you never chose to call me again,
wouldnt you miss how I laugh
how I cry at silly movies
even the ones I have seen fifty times
won't you miss my homemade
sauce on Sundays...
that smell that moves
through the house
and calls you from what
you are writing in the other room.
You will miss my soul,
and I am holding this piece
for you...
because if you threw up in the air
all the pictures of us...
let them rain down...
hit you in the face as they land
you will never keep this piece.
It is waiting for the one
who will be watching me sleep...
the one who will hold my hand
as the sun sets on our final days
Because you never gave me...
the pieces of you.

- Diana Rose

(featured in the poetry forum 08.12.09)

One More For The Road

I remember the sun rising,
Just above the mangroves
as we drove down 95,
Nothing was as glorious
as that moment,
sunlight flickering in the highlights of your hair,
the mist rising above the waves
in the Savannah dawn.
My mind took a snapshot of that,
the way you were smiling
your eyes carressing my face
the way you looked
as we stopped
frolicking at the rest stop
chasing each other around
till our kisses were all we knew.
Our time together was a blur
mingled with late nights
pubs and cricket,
karaoke till we were hoarse,
riding America in that jeep with the top down
Canoeing with manatees,
your mind always ten steps ahead of me,
ready to fight,
passionate people too much alike,
wading through time for more than we knew.
Snapshot of minutes,
capsule of time...
squandered through our fingers
Passed away between us like
Mist rising above water,
The mist of Niagra
The spray of Chautauqua ,
fireflies at midnight
as we held hands on your mother's swing,
chasing each other through the field,
spinning around,
laying in clover,
climbing rocks through a dry riverbed,
so many nights together
lasted until daylight,
never wasting a moment.
Like the night that we met,
eyes meeting from across
a sea of faces
you never stopped watching me
until we were speaking
with your eyes carressing mine.
Hazel eyes ablaze with life
hair falling across one eye,
you push it away
in a rugged sort of way,
always with a beer for the one next to you,
always with a joke to share,
animated
never still
your life could fill a room,
talking about poetry,
shamanism,
Morrison,
Kerouac,
and Doors of Perception,
anything to keep me talking
for just one minute more.
Day into night, night into day,
candlelight
filling the rooms we shared,
walking in moonlight along horse paths,
Did you know where you were headed?
You drifted into my life in the casual way that you left,
but left an impression,
a dent in my soul,
an aching for the wandering
the forever meandering
way that was you.
The creative abandon that you threw
never standing still.
Outward bound and aimless,
a soul without rest,
you left me with the road less taken,
a boat floating alone to shore.
You showed me your world,
and shut me out
at the same time,
Hello was goodbye.
doors slamming,
walking home alone
in the fog lined streets
Mist of Avalon,
Savannah at dawn,
Into the Mystic
One More for The Road.

originally featured by The Plebian Rag, Blue Turtle Crossing and Alabaster and Mercury (Volume I)

- Diana Rose

(added 08.12.09)

Sunset Upon Shadow (Death Be Your Comfort)

Walk among the willows,
Hear the tinkle of the chimes
Hung to awaken the spirits
Count the stones,
Hide and seek among the hedge row
Faceless are the ones who gather,
Making hay while the sun shines,
Sky of perfect blue,
Not a cloud.. you could see forever
till the horizon met the sea,
that was where she wished to rest,
under tree of lilac bloom,
and tranquil waters run,
just a bench,
where he could read to her,
till the sun went down,
raging fire of orange,
burning to magenta
as the shadow
hit the water
and it all burned out,
with a hiss of steam.
He always brought a bottle,
with his volume of Thomas,
or Bukowski that made her laugh,
toasting to the air
of the days gone by,
she wouldn't argue with him now.
Silent are the bow shaped lips
that heated up the night
with frustration
she never knew when to back down,
fought right till the final hour,
that was what got her past the pain.
That year past...
He stood in the corridor,
waiting,
he hated hospitals,
he hated her here
he never heard the final word spoken
it was the look
as the doctor opened the door
that said it all
that was the last word he heard,
something about death being comfort
what complete shit that is,
he kicked the wall,
and crumpled
Why was the sky so damn blue,
they should be sailing
on a day like today,..
he walked out to that blazing sky..
blasphemous that it was beautiful
blasphemous that the air was a perfect cool
and leaves had begun to turn,
to the shade of her hair.
Damn it all .
He remembered her last tear,
like a raindrop
running down her cheek,
he remembered
her last words
kneeling here now.
Sunset upon shadow,
death is not my comfort,
it isnt goodbye,
read to me
the words I wrote for you
do not cry
when my eyes shut,
for they will forever see you
just as you are
Do not mourn ,
I remain with you,
Death be your comfort,
as my lap to lay your head upon,
rest your soul
I remain within the suns rays,
I remain in the birds song,
I remain in the perfect blue sky.
In your heart I remain.

originally published by Web Digest Weekly

- Diana Rose

(added 08.12.09)