My Lovers Gone

There is a story, 
it is my own 
It fills all the spaces and lines 
that lead in and around 
the deepest and most shallow 
- like a wading pool, or sandbar - water up to my knees 
floating sensation into the abyss of joyfulness 
- all part of my mind 
Energy free form soaring, bounding rhetoric 
leaving an indiscriminate mark of solace 
etched in a monogram of initials 
- for all of those I have loved 
Freeing words trickle out ever so slowly,
with no sense of urgency
but, as a delicate pearl of wisdom 
flowing freedom with the knowing 
of an ocean bed, comfort in its path 
More than okay with its journey - and its destination 
Carving a path that will change with each season,
with each tide pulled by the moon light, beckoning
like my lovers gone and I will continue on and on...

- floating sensation into the abyss of joyfulness...
like my lovers gone, and I will continue on and on

© 2015 TrilbyYates

God Is Not Dead

Words quietly spoken
Words floating in the night
Billowing halo warped wrap around
words spoken quietly
God is dead
God is dead
- Faith is a belief not based on proof 
Faith is a tapestry silk and satin 
weaving through 
heart into soul
head into heart
Not tangible to touch
but a magical sensation 
weaving through heart into spirit
Rattling about so stable so very unshakable
- unbreakable  
Questionable in my dreams
Rattling about broken at times
Rosary beads slip from my hands
I sink to bended knee
unlike other faiths standing on equal ground
I sink to bended knee humbled
Questionable in my dreams
I woke wrapped in a cloud
wrapped in billowing halo warped wrap around
I said the words
I spoke out loud 
God is not dead 
God is not dead 
I said softly words whispered 
in the darkness of the night 
Words heard echoing bounce
Words spoken tongue tied
yet understood Tower of Babble
There is wisdom in the story
There is peace and confidence 
in the questioning of my faith 
My lack of belief has been 
a distant abstraction 
My lack of faith has been
at times a painful reaction
But in this fog hovering in the night
I was solid 
I was touched
I said it out loud
God is not dead 
God is not dead
I lay back falling into a deep sleep
wrapped in a cloud I began to weep 
And as the sails began to fill
and move slowly across the bay
I remembered the story
of choice and free will -

The vision brought tears to my heart
tears to my eyes and I cried at the image 
and the knowledge
I am wisdom
I am wise 
God is not dead
God is not dead

The vision brought tears to my heart
tears to my eyes and I cried at the image
and the knowledge
I am wisdom
I am wise
God is not dead
God is not dead

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Awakening The Senses

Historical preservation
...moments in time 
held with highest regard 
Tourists flock like pigeons on the plaza 
Camera's long zoom lens
Nikon, Canon hanging 
around their neck
Focusing on the image 
The experience is captured
knowing its own mortality
But is the experience felt? 
Is it a deal breaking 
mesmerizing life altering 
electrifying source of energy
that ripples with intent up the spine
Waves of acknowledgement
triggering a brain freeze
with a wanting to preserve 
- the stirred raw emotions?
A bring you to your knees 
tear jerking thanking God 
beyond fucking words
beyond fucking grateful 
to be alive, to be here 
to be in this moment
- this very precise moment...now?
Walking in the footsteps 
of those so far outside
of our own comfort zone
a place so abstract
it doesn't even register
un - comprehensible 
Can't quite wrap your head 
around it...
Are those intoxicating moments
- absorbed?
The birthplace of the Renaissance!
Santa Maria del Fiore...The Duomo
Piazza della Signoria 
Bartolomeo Ammanati's Fountain of Neptune  
Palazzo Vecchio, 
Ponte Vecchio...locks of love
Architecture mixing it up 
with Medieval, Baroque
Neoclassical and modern

Dancing to a beat 
on their own time line

- their own drum 
Sounds vibrate and echo

all to the visitors delight

Da Vinci, Michelangelo, 
Cellini, Giambologna

A creative magical 
vitality consumed 

with each breath 
and step taken...back

Palazzo Pitti, Boboli Gardens

On and on 
endless stimulation

All filling the heart 
with anticipation  
awakening the senses 
to the possibilities
Exhaling with complete abandon
and the innocence of awe...

© 2015 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 

Hit The Pavement

I'm jumping off a proverbial 
Jagged earthbound ledge 
A sorrowful morning 
Attempting to let it go
A stones throw from everything tangible
Didn't take the time to think it through
And maybe I never intended to
All I can imagine
All I can visualize
Black and white dramatic effect
I'm looking out eyes opened wide 
Looking out beyond the beauty 
Of a turbulent and tragic sea 
My arms out stretched 
With the wing span of an Angel 
In a free fall flight
Earth below and heaven above 
If I can only fly high enough 
Maybe you would finally realize
There is truly some thing angelic 
And something magical about me 

Somehow you've gotten under my skin 
but you still won't let me in 
and I'm going for it anyway 
before I hit the pavement

It doesn't make any sense 
But than again maybe it shouldn't
Because matters for this 
Tentative heart of mine
There seems to be no logic 
No rhythm and no rhyme 
And it's all good even though
I am feeling off center 
And slightly misunderstood
Maybe I'm even running low on time
But I'm stuck in a stale mate
Self imposed and not very wise
Oblivious to consequence or folk lore
Déjà vu sentiment...knowing I have been here before
Such familiarity I can see in your eyes
But there is a dialogue 
Playing out in my head
With all the bells and whistles

Somehow you've gotten under my skin 
but you still won't let me in 
and I'm going for it anyway 
before I hit the pavement
I'm going for it anyway
before I hit the pavement... 

© 2014 TrilbyYates

Walk The Streets Of Tribeca

I walk the streets 
where you used to live, 
the city you thrived in
The city you fell in love with, 
the city that set you free;
while at the same time crippling you - 
taking away any sense of coherency
But, you, you were alright, 
you were a shining star
you were on fire, 
the pretty boy 
with the moody green eyes, 
the seductive faraway stare
You lived in the city 
that pulled you over the edge 
Submerging you into darkness,
driving you to cut deeper 
until your art bled 
into oblivion 
Your creative energy dripped 
like an intravenous 
main lining junkie;
scores strewn across the floor 
Your best work,
your brilliance blinds 
The toll -
twenty years 
of your precious life, 
twenty years 
of a collective genius 
I walk the streets 
where you used to live, 
the city you played in, 
wishing I had known you then -
The clubs that filled 
with locals 
1970-something 
vagabonds 
creative types;
the abstract overly talented 
movers and shakers -
to the point of their own absurdity,
just to catch a glimpse 
of your vibrancy -
bringing out the lacking 
in their own luster 
You were 
one of a kind, 
a rare find 
Unique in a time 
of originality 
An artist to your core,
and yet between all the lines 
praise, paranoia and deception 
the purity of your soul 
was lost on most 
and stolen from you 
before you understood 
what it meant to have a life;
only to let life have you - 
Twenty years you said, 
twenty years and it had to end
There was joy in your eyes 
as they took you away,
a sense of peace 
We didn't realize 
our last kiss 
was an unknown 
...farewell 
Finally, twenty years lost
and finally you had it all
And in that finality,
in a moment,
in an instant,
you were gone...
I walk the streets 
in the city you loved
I walk the streets of Tribeca,
imagine running into you  -
Our eyes would meet,
on some magical level
there is a glimmer of recognition
You would smile only slightly
then turn away 
I'd write my name
on a piece of paper 
and slip it into your pocket
as you brush past  -
looking back
knowing you will find it
and fall in love with me 
...someday

© 2014 TrilbyYates 

One More For The Road

Ambiance
candle light low smoldering glow
not tagged for tender romance
self serving no holds barred seduction
of another kind...
Bar scene fades defiantly out of view
as the backroom juke joint
grabs hold soothes the heart
and shakes the soul

Time passes reluctantly
yet the heart beat carries the crowd
unified movement sweltering heat
his music becomes my own...
We are ageless as images of youth
begin to blur colorless montage
just the way Mother Nature intended
magical streaks shades of grey
run translucent color through his hair

And the Music man
oblivious continues to play
mesmerizing the lovelorn
eyes closed, head tilted

focused far off in a melodious zone

he blows a sultry song
as if his world is a slow burn
of notes and tones
saved for me, yet
shared with the lost and lonely
with pleading reverie one more for the road...

For now my journey has
purpose, reverence and intent
The Music man holds my hand
guiding me along the way
while I absorb song and sound
eyes closed, head tilted
focused far off in a melodious zone
conjuring up and improvising
notes and tones
with pleading reverie one more for the road... 

© 2013 Trilby 

Love In Vain

Out stretched
finger tips 
pleading
in the
darkest night 
somethings seem 
distant 
out of reach
do I ask for 
to much
and the wind 
carries our song
...Shuffle and flip
of the Tarot cards
all possibilities 
are put into mystical 
perspective 
the devil 
plays games 
with no one 
...Soul to soul 
wounded dove 
tiny petals fall 
from high above 
and whispers generate 
magical stirrings 
hope flourishes 
dead sea 
mambo jumbo 
you know I can sail 
with the best of them 
...Now and then 
on bended knee 
searching for 
a familiar face 
eye to eye
recognize
one more time
pure of heart
did I love in vain... 



© 2013 Trilby