The Last Day

The day before
the last day 
of the year 
any year 
with some reluctance 
and reflective pause 
we move forward
spinning like a top
like a wild beast
is chasing us
the wind whistles 
silly baby songs
in perfect tune
of days gone by
but we move forward
because that is 
what we do
that is what we must do
life is a free flow
fast falling drop 
from a heavenly sky
a splendid journey 
from dust to dirt 
and all that is 
in-between 
we make and take
the most of it
...or not 
but it is the most 
we can make
the most we can take
when that is all we know
and given we are human 
with silk ribbons of optimism
tied around our wrist 
subtle reminders
with one foot always
remaining in the clouds
and the other 
sliding into the grave 
just because
because we know 
we know we have 
a shelf life 
a time limit 
an expiration date 
...of sorts 
no deals in a back room
black light swaying
from side to side
shadowy figure
finger pointing
sign on the dotted line
no cross roads
doesn't matter 
what we have 
or don't
how much cash 
is on hand
a bargain with the devil
good faith - last smirk
nothing will extend
our credit 
for another day
so we dance 
with the best of them
we sing 
with the worst
and laugh 
like there is no tomorrow
because there isn't
we have this moment
shine a light 
in the darkness
for those we will leave behind...

© 2014 TrilbyYates 

Death Of A Female Poet

Slipping away
Into a sweet space
Reverie peace maker
Holds my hand
Feather bed comfort
Safe haven soothsayer 
Fluffy white pillows
Lavender and lace
Lulling me into
A deep sleep
Dreams in sepia
Hints of color
- and a spray
Of black and white
Vintage montage
In the powerful Atlantic air
I am standing high above
Second floor balcony
Overlooking the Saugatuck River
Noon sun burning in the sky
Letting it all in with eyes shut
A better way to see
All the magical images
Encompassing me
- and off in the distance
Someone is picking up
A loaded gun, taking aim
- and shooting at me
1st shot center 3rd eye
2nd shot left of the heart
Pulsating blood beat
Words entwined
No rhythm no rhyme
Words suspended
There is no sense of time
- and as the light
Begins to shift and fade
I feel everything
A rush of sweetness
- and surrender
A loss of fear
A loss of rage
- and as the high tide
Murky Saugatuck waters
Begin to flow over me
Pushing beyond
The eternal waves
Floating into a deep grey sea
The Long Island Sound
Is singing my name
- and welcoming me...Woman Of The Page

© 2014 TrilbyYates 

Brightest Of Eyes

The arms of love 
Wrapped around me 
Small boy 
Baby child 
Little angel with 
The brightest of eyes 
Cherishing and grateful 
For all of what this life 
Has unfolded before me
..and it took a while 
But I have come to know 
Life is what we make of it 
As time slowly passes 
- and harsh memories fade 
The space I wake in 
Is full of optimism 
...and surprise 
Even as our world 
Spins reluctantly out of control
- setting its self ablaze 
Off in a quieter calming place 
There is a true Wisdom 
...and words from the oh so very Wise 
As I drift off peacefully
Into my heavenly place 
Of an imaginary feather bed
 - and Cheshire wide smiles 
I will continue to count 
...all of my blessings 
And walk the unknown miles
With the arms of love 
Wrapped around me 
Small boy 
Baby child 
Little angel with 
The brightest of eyes ~


© 2014 TrilbyYates 

Small Boy Tender

Small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

That could melt butter

 - in his mouth

While dripping sweet 

Saccharine like words 

Of lies and deceit 

One push 

Slight of hand 

Reaches out 
To be held 

 - poor little sister

Cracked skull

Echoed cries 
and life 

...swing in the balance

Baby dolls
 - toy guns 

Put away 
For safe keeping

Time capsule 

Records sealed 
To protect 
“innocence”

Carefully wrapped

In newsprint 
from 1965

Is no longer 
A figment 

Of Freud’s imagination

While sharing 
The mid night oil 

With the likes 
of Jean Piaget

A child’s dream

…small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

Our love fans 
the flame
Desire fuels 
the fire 

We have a slow 
Dance of our own

Following the rhythm 

Of a distant 
...drummer

And I’m tearful 

When old photos 

seem to fade

Yet your words 
Move through me 

Like the hum 
Of a warm guitar

With the harp blower 
 - vibrating

There is not a breath 
taken...between us

As he holds onto 
That infamous note 

Like a one hit wonder

A precious soul
Small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

Careful not to 
rush the beat

Reminiscent 
of a frantic lover

Maintaining 
the perfection 

- of our love song
Small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

That could melt butter

 - in his mouth

While dripping sweet 

Saccharine like words 

Of lies and deceit ~ 

© 2014 TrilbyYates 

Footsteps Of Angels - HWL

Asked and answered - if I had been from another era and had the talent to write the words with such divinity; I would have channeled my pain, closed my eyes and let the emotions flow from my heart to my finger tips forming such beauty...I would have written and spoken these words for you.
(12/14 TY)

Footsteps Of Angels

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the Better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;
Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall;
Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;
He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!
They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering ore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!
And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me
And is now a saint in heaven.
With a slow and noisless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays his gentle hand in mine.
And he sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.
Utter not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended
Breathing from his lips of air.
O, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Death

Some people say to me 
With good intentions
Possible discomfort
- or lack of experience
It's time to move forward
Start living your life
Reminding me repeatedly
I am no longer married to you
I am no longer your wife
Hold your head up sweet darling
You don't need to cry - anymore
...that is not what he would have wanted 
That is not what his death was for...
Sadly he lost his right to want anything 
When he left this place of existence
That night he took not only his last breath 
But my path of least resistance 
Leaving behind a blue vase 
A dozen beautiful white roses 
That crashed without warning 
Tiny irreplaceable pieces onto the floor
A love note of forever and forever 
 - and then never more
There is no subtle way to share or explain
And as I have said before - there is no time limit
On grieving or the depth of the pain
The process of moving from here to there
To know the finality of death - if ever
Nothing ever feels right
Nothing ever seems fair
And once that gut wrenching poison 
Seeped deep into my heart 
And took hold - there was no time
...and truth be told
It eventually became the norm - 
It has found its safe haven
it has found its home
It wakes me in the middle of the night
Stealing away any sense of peace 
A prisoner of my own confine
A battle within - a battle I continue to fight
A sweet reverie only to be replaced
By childhood demons that move so slowly
The demons we battled and put to rest 
So many years ago
The vivid colors and visuals 
Of that moment in time
...one night seven years ago 
There is no sensible reason  
They have not faded they remain sublime
Yesterday is not just a memory 
It has become a way of life
And maybe that is all part of some empirical plan
Giving us a story we can hold onto 
- to breathe easy when there is no rhyme
To engage that perfect fit 
- the perfection in our own disguise ...
The balance between 
All the good and all the bad 
Life experiences the happy 
- and the sad
To share the joke 
That is on you/me with someone
Who will not judge
The error of our ways
Or the fear of being abandoned 
 - and always feeling safe
Without having to say a word 
A simple look deep into each others eyes
Knowing nothing 
Should be taken for granted
...a heartfelt word to the wise
Truly knowing everything will be fine
And you and I knew it all too well
We just didn't know the length - of our time line...

© 2014 TrilbyYates

The Edge

Cafe Dark Nights 
For the sleek and slender
Of mind and heart
The scent of cappuccino
And espresso brewing
Poured seductively
Into delicate imported
Fine China cups
Intellectual chatter floats
As light as a feather
From table to candle lit table
With a Beatnik snap
Of the fingers - an antiquated signal
Of artistic approval
Long pause and a deep sigh
Your body brushes past
My emotionally charged senses
And a mental note is made
The mind surrenders
To a fantasy land 
Of black seamed silk stockings
And hard passionate kisses
A scene from Cabaret 
We make the best
Of last chances - one more time
As provocative poetry is read
The spoken word brings life
And added ambiance to the candle light
Burning your eyes into mine
Your hand belongs in mine
Such a perfect fit
Like a Gucci glove that costs - too much
But we have been willing - to spend
What we don't have
What we can't afford
With hope and optimism
The next step is casually mentioned
Never seeing the light of day
Because we both know
The high price of living
So close - to the edge

© 2014 TrilbyYates