Prayer to the middle-of-the-night gods:
please let me sleep —
thank you for the beautiful moon
and winter silence
but please let me fall back to sleep —
no offense.
Amen.
—Terri Guillemets
Prayer to the middle-of-the-night gods:
please let me sleep —
thank you for the beautiful moon
and winter silence
but please let me fall back to sleep —
no offense.
Amen.
—Terri Guillemets
Sun coaxes life
from the earth
with its warmth —
Grow, thrive, breathe
green things of the land
wake from your
winter’s nap and
joyously reach
for the spring —
Colors burst
into vibrant being —
fresh fireworks
on verdant stems of life
—Terri Guillemets
In my mind —
I’ve tried a million
times to go back
to that day —
tried to change
my choices
begged a do-over
from the universe
I’ve crippled myself with
guilt
sorrow
thrashing the quicksand
sinking in
layers of grief
fighting a sticky web
trapped in
regret-regret-regret
I don’t even care about
my own
broken heart
I’m sorry
I broke yours
—Terri Guillemets
Why does cold weather refresh old griefs?
More quiet for reflection?
Longer nights to lie awake?
Like citrus, grief is a winter fruit.
—Terri Guillemets
Yes!
the delightful serenity of an autumn breeze
colorful leaves meandering as they please
—Terri Guillemets
sand-dust with cream
intensely mauve’d rust
velvety blue-grey-indigo —
layers of early winter’s
desert dawn horizon
—Terri Guillemets
October’s autumn
casts a gentle light
and a calm serenity
before the stark
barrenness of winter
is born to November
—Terri Guillemets
WILD
is beautiful
wild is free —
wilderness is not
an empty canvas
for Man to do
what he will —
wilderness is
an already full canvas
painted by God
—Terri Guillemets
Fortune is a centaur —
half man, half luck
—Terri Guillemets
in bed at night his mind had a ferocious imagination
reality and unreality haunted his turbulent brain
the years ticked, an infinite clock of destiny
searching moonlight for the promise of a future
his reveries of heart were coasting on a fairy’s wing
as the world and universe drifted by fantastic shores
but the sea, work, and women — physical outlets —
were his anchor — something old, hard, and soft
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from F. Scott Fitzgerald,
Let’s get drunk at the library
and have a book party!
“What a good time!” she said
in an excited whisper.
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from F. Scott Fitzgerald,
her smiling girl-heart danced
behind the grey, grey hair
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from Enid Bagnold,
like wild animals, I am happy hiding
the artificial frightens my being —
but it is time to fight for the earth
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from Rafe Martin, Birdwing, 2005