Slightly Off Key

How well you thought
you knew me;
not so long ago
when I walked
the rocky coast
late at night -
New England rag tag shore line
But, it was in my darkest hours
that you seemed to fade away...
An ambiguous image
blurred and out of view
Like two proverbial battle weary ships,
in the light of a new day
pass and collide unacknowledged;
there is so much I have left to say...
Such an utter shame to be left adrift 
in a turbulent lonely sea,
when the heart has been 
tenderly rescued and repaired
our love song remains on a repetitive replay
uninterrupted yet slightly off key...
And yes, sometimes I wonder
what I truly meant to you;
and more often then not,
what you truly meant to me - or what we could ever do
in peaceful revery 
It was never a matter of pride or ego
as time moves forward for us all -
the continuous ticking of our mortal clock
there are moments that move too fast
and some moments move too slow..

While I reluctantly examined the past, 
fearful of what I would find
fearful of what I may not
and willingly unable to let it all go...

Uninterrupted, yet slightly off key
not knowing what I meant to you
...knowing what you ultimately meant to me...


© 2014 TrilbyYates 

The Wind Will Always Blow

Seems like only yesterday
the sky was a turquoise shade of blue
babies breath and fall surrounded us.
We raised our children together
coffee clutch at the local diner;
Mom's on a break...
the gift of gab and so much more
the wind was blowing strong

As love was falling from our grasp 
husbands and lovers from the past
secrets we shared with a sympathetic ear
A vow of forever not to be broken  
a drop of crimson blood 
finger prick unconditional love  
we became sisters

Life shifts, an old friend to me 
a welcomed stranger to you
Yet our path was the same 
always searching for love
acceptance, value and a warm hand -
- to hold in the darkest night - 

The wind always blows...

I remember the first time I saw you 
energy high made my head spin 
We were both in a turbulent place back then 
Very different on the surface 
but skin deep - so much the same
You and I had more in common 
than one could have ever imagined...

The wounded child will always finds a playmate 
it can trust - and we did

...the wind continues to blow my friend...

There were days when the bond made us cry 
painful moments that could not be broken
understanding words can always be spoken 
and a tale told with sincerity
But, it was in those quiet moments;
the silence, the tears, holding each other 
in times of desperation, need, pain...
some things lost and some things gained
Our sense of loss was never taken for granted;
and only thing we knew for certain
...the wind always blows

So I taught you how to sail
on a stormy night when we thought a new day 
would never come
rocking you to sleep 
on a sea of tranquility
Newport waves a fond farewell little one...

You were more outwardly flamboyant
and dyed your hair a rebellious red
I was always deep in thought, 
searching for the words 
pen to paper, demons to be fought

And we danced in the rain together
when no one else would
wanted to or could
Holding hands skipping to a random beat;
laughing, throwing our heads back
never losing faith or losing track - of where we needed to be
catching raindrops on our tongues
Life seemed good and the consequences 
we could not foresee 

We didn't know what our futures would hold
the twists and turns that would unfold
and never anticipating that you would leave before me;
like your father I was closer to a path 
of checking out unnaturally...
You fought for every moment as if it were gold 
and now you are gone...
I remain surrounded by your swan song

Looking at old photographs, some of our adventures
as the years did pass...time, love laughter 
we thought would never come to an end
tears fill my eyes and I hope you know 
how much you are loved my dear friend

...and the wind will always blow...

Dedicated to my sister and friend Jennifer Rie Vanderlinden

© 2014 TrilbyYates      

Happier Days Are On The Rise

Surprised at the emotions
spurred by photographs of you
a past romance and tenderness
not forgotten.
But a touch of fear
begins to surface - a simple notion
from chest to throat,
a slight pulse rise.
What if you feel
my lingering thoughts,
as they pass from here to there?
Would you even care?
No barriers when the mind
shoots energy into time and space;
dare I enter this long ago place?
...the wave surfaces
once more...

I have often wondered
about you,
and all that you
would become.
Never regretting
moments shared;
entangled lovers,
even as we exposed
the most vulnerable
parts of ourselves...
Was it a lack of trust
that spiraled the two of us
in a different direction?
As your hand slipped from mine,
there seemed little to be said -
no loss of affection, 
it was never about rejection...
there was no reason, no rhyme
...warmhearted
words remain unspoken...

Our lives intertwined
repeatedly over time
as if the Gods had a plan.
Now, as I look to my left
there is a young boy
that mirrors images of innocence,
a youthful - you and me.
And, although I knew intuitively;
fear being my only guide,
of what was meant to be.
Consequences ebb and flow
today with reason and with rhyme
all my purpose and intent
I continually suppose...
What might have been - 

Choices made and reality borrowed
there is always time for tears and sorrow
I have had my share - you too, I may never know.
But I will always remember one thing to be true
it was a gentler time shared between
me and you...
Happier days are on the rise ~


© 2014 TrilbyYates     

Political Agenda

Fine smooth facial lines crisscross

like a jagged war torn village road
a mapping of your indiscretions
never deviating from the facts
truths be told - behold the awkwardness
leaving a distinct manicured impression
unique to a solitary finger print
left at the scene of an other wise
meticulously assumed moral crime
your party established the rhythm
and patterned the rhyme  
knowing full well without hesitation or pause
slight acknowledgement
...sleight of hand
...tip of the hat
and wink for well wishers...star on the rise

You can hold your own confidently
in a world of bigoted gamblers and frigid ladies men
dropping by unexpectedly - is not your style
a plan well executed there is no need for substitutes
or complacent passive aggressive denial
transparent wide lip color stained grin
adheres for only a little while
...because there are no surprises
when the lights are purposefully dimmed
and you methodically pull back
the blankets that comfort, 
keeping the sails secured and trimmed
skin warms up slightly to a vacancy of touch
with a tinge of remorse, yet there is never very much
leaving it to the drama of a well fed media soaked imagination
secrets alluded to, yet never spoken - out loud
there remains a disturbing non stop white noise
...the burn of white knuckling frustration 
buzz kill switch off - solid electrifying reaction
tantalizing, cautiously denying
frozen in time self sabotaging attraction...

The simple truth of a political agenda... 


© 2014 TrilbyYates    

Holy Resemblance

Slight of hand with a side twist of fate 
smoke and mirrors up in a puff vaporize 
shifting grey eyes 
grab a hold of what is near and dear 
only one that gets out alive 
is the Svengali in us all 
with hands thrust deeply
in the back pocket of our neighbors
while holding a knife to the jugular 
serial killers our partners in crime 
sitting at the head of the table
cloth napkin falls to the floor
glances shoot subtle wish
never more never more
you lose either way willing 
or unable 
glass ceilings crack 
at the thought of redemption 
and there is a lack 
of satisfaction when only a few 
have the formula to what's what 
and how to get off without leaving a trace 
and I look to your perfection 
without question or concern
without biblical connection 
like a wide eyed wonder child 
from the hippie-drone era 
non committal paradox
trapped in the four corners 
of our flawless microcosm
cardboard latch key box 
tipping the scales of justice 
we look out with an air of superiority 
our society's majority is made up of a minority
that requires everyone else 
turn the other cheek and trust us 
as if we are the keepers of this world 
pretending that the other side of the moon
bears witness to none
to all that we have to hide 
all that we have done
behind closed doors shades drawn
you recall the sense of being
nothing less than a saboteurs pawn
an impossibility if one believes solely
in a greater power grand source
creator of all that is holy
left handed gun raised firing the final shot
...resembling all that we are not ~

© 2014 TrilbyYates