Tonight I will add line breaks to my prose - an exercise that will flex my skillset a bit.

Here's an old poem of mine, one I like
quite a bit. I hope you'll enjoy it.
Oh, and Happy New Year. Finally
an end to this absolute worst year in my life
and all of its trials by brimstone.

It goes out for me with a certain
somberness and an internal quietness,
but that is a GOOD thing
(as Harry would put it).
I think. At least, I'm not sure.
Yet.

Hey, at least I'm not slobbering. Yet, that is.
Though I'm sure that I will be
when the ball drops and the fireworks begin. I'm sure
Auld Lang Syne will take on new meaning for me tonight
when the counter is set to zero again.
A new year, a new chance, a blank slate,
kinda.

New Year's will be yet another anniversary,
another chisel mark in my new way of marking time, difficult
(to say the least) and yet, and yet....I will take it
and it's pain gladly if it means the memories will flood in.
I begin to see.
This is how one defines melancholy.

Oh, and don't forget about your mom
as you ready yourself for that party
tonight. Pick up the phone and call her
now, while you still can. You'll be glad
you did.

*sigh*

how I long to lie in the sun, rocked
in the lap of the waves, adrift and free
as the fair weather clouds overhead.

(*edited 12/31/05 at 9:04 pm)

So, 'nuf said. 'nuf temporary poetic insanity. (someone out there throws a boot which clonks side of my head, causing me to utter a guttural sounding unghhhhhhhh)

Here's the poem now...



Haven

That particular mesmerizing sound
of the water’s lapping;
its hollow, steady slapping against fiberglass
lulls me just like dosed valium.

I lie face-up on this wooden deck
with the sun’s rays warming my carcass
of weathered skin and brittle bones.

A balmy breeze teases tendrils of my hair
as I’m rocked by the motion of the waves.
I could drift this way the entire day
without a thought of passing time,
my mind blank and loose, adrift
in the isolated freedom that comes
of a life left behind;
even if just for awhile.

Perhaps I’ll remember now
what it is to smile.

copyright 2003 by Cookala

Farewell 2005.