Just Another "If I Could"

If I could I would...

Sell everything I own
Close all my bank accounts
Never pay taxes that would fund another war
Let my hair grow long and wear it in dread locks
Sleep on the beach under a sky filled with stars
Spend endless hours walking the shoreline collecting sea glass and shells
Once a week throw it all back and start all over again
Let the sun shine on me and not worry about anything
Sail away to a warm peaceful place
Drink wine from the bottle and date each cork with permanent marker
As if it were my last day on earth
Learn Italian, French, Spanish, Greek
Go to Italy
Spain
France
Ireland, Scotland, Wales…etc…
Own an apartment in Rome that has a window
With a magnificent view of the Trevi Fountain
Play the lead role in "La Dolce Vita"
Share a cup of espresso with Fellini and discuss “intent”…
Cruise my sailboat “Magdalene” on the Caribbean Sea
Following the sun from port to port
Keep my children close
Friends would come and visit
Nightmares would turn into beautiful daydreams
My heart would heal
Love would find me
Love would hold my hand
Love would never leave or fade…

If I could…I would… 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Exhale

Exhale….
slow release
thoughts jump the rope
skip to simple complex closure of the mind
leave the day on a slow train
like a boat to China
no direction
short of misgivings or concern
fast track
take my hand
leading the way
fork in the road
wind blows
from the north shore
leaving less than what is anticipated
when expectations are already at a low
subtle smile lingers on… 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Word Flow Vice

There is a sense 
of dread lingering
deep dark longing 
wrapped tightly 
suffocating 
to the point 
of paralysis 
I do not pause 
or hesitate 
Fear is not a driving force
Narcissistic identity bender,
insanity root of inspiration,
and subconscious driving force
...maybe 
I have my words,
my pen and paper;
sword of sorts 
And when I am alone 
in this place of anonymity 
it remains a surreal 
untouchable source of truth 
and provocative profanity - 
I do not hide 
behind my words 
Yet - I struggle to speak 
As each layer 
is painstakingly 
torn away,
tiny pieces of my soul 
are revealed 
And as the reader 
may skim over this page,
little does one know 
what turmoil lie beneath 
each dotting of an "i"
or crossing of a "t" - 
Searching for perfection 
in an imperfect way,
to translate thought,
mindful imagery 
to a more tangible form 
The written word
scratched on a piece of paper 
shreds of detail 
pieced together
Patterns scattered about;
brilliant creation 
Something to view 
Something to think about 
And thou it is never enough
and it is never completely complete 
Even as the words begin to move 
into a slow-go finality,
there remains an endless well 
of inspiration...word flow vice

© 2015 TrilbyYates   

Forever ‪#‎JeSuisCharlie‬

They are like air
non-tangible 
of no material
substance - 
Yet they are powerful!
Thoughts, words, opinions, perceptions
dialogue; internal, external 
beliefs, doubts, questions, answers 
All up in the air 
Throw it against the wall 
...to see what sticks 
or lands on the floor - 
Pen to paper,
pen in hand 
Words, caricatures
They are like air
non-tangible
of no material 
substance - 
Historic words translated
passed down generation 
watered down interpretation 
Mind boggling
degenerate, debasing 
string of pearls 
words of wisdom 
Yours, mine, his, hers,
theirs, no ones, someones 
Does it matter?
Does any of it matter 
- at the end of a long day? 
End of a long life?
Does it matter 
when a life is taken?
...because?
They are like air
non-tangible
of no material 
substance -
Living is believing;
breathing, loving, hating 
strength, weakness, depravity
giving and taking 
Enlightened, mystified 
acceptance, judgmental
Saving grace, cold blooded murder 
Martyrdom, Sainthood 
Heaven, Hell 
...and all that floats 
between is the truth 
My thoughts 
My words 
My opinion 
My perception
...will continue to grow 
and strengthen 
I am not afraid
Forever ‪#‎JeSuisCharlie‬ 

© 2015 TrilbyYates  

When Wont It Matter

I can be an after thought
a chain reaction glimmer in your eye
hitting the nail on the head...clairvoyant imposter
it doesn't truly matter all that much - to me
What is thought or spoken - love has no boundaries
the exception, not being reciprocated - virtuous whore
Especially when the world around us
is a blaze - flames kissing the heavens
and the middle ground is a jagged edge - diversionary tact
When will you look at me
tears in your eyes - heart pounding
the same way I look at you?
When wont it matter
that my story isn't in-sync - with yours?
I know I carry a different tune
When will you feel the same way
about me - the same way I feel about you?
When wont it matter?
I've traveled my own path - lost at times
but when I came to a fork in the road
I never turned back - choices made
via an unorthodox flip of a coin
or mere chance, the direction of the wind
kiss and blow - roll the dice
heads I win tails you lose - continue on my love
The alternative has its own draw - appearances can be deceiving 
just wasn't part of the grand design - my journey
With music pushing me forward, a lyric on the tip of my tongue
my head full of words and soulful thought
always leading me on my merry way
When will you look at me
tears in your eyes - heart pounding
the same way I look at you?
When wont it matter
that my story isn't in-sync - with yours?
I know I carry a different tune
When will you feel the same way
about me - the same way I feel about you?
When wont it matter? 

© 2014 TrilbyYates   

My Heart Doesn't Sing

On any given day 
or any given moment 
fly by night 
whimsical stargazing 
backtracking 
sense of well-being 
gently slips away 
without resistance
without pause for concern 
Getting clear 
of a suffocating fog
surround sound droning - endlessly
a long drawn out daze 
blowing smoke in the face 
of a higher power  - father, son and holy spirit
Throwing all caution 
into the wind 
the consequences 
yet to be known - blow back is a bitch
and caring is less 
than a fleeting thought 
My mind can be found 
skipping through fields 
daisy chains slipping away
finger tips filter 
sunny perceptions
wind chime vibrations 
and my heart...
it doesn't sing the way 
it once did 
And how can it be 
that I can feel you 
kissing me while I sleep 
- it's only a memory - short whispered words
a tactical sensation
a long ago 
once upon a time 
split second fleeting 
sweet vignette playing 
over and over...
over and over...shuffle replay

© 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     

Who I Have Become

The first line is the most difficult
the most important
pen to paper expression
paramount to first impression
succession of intent
my perspective
is self inflicted 
is self infected 
self rejected and I know all to well
I'm not blaming you or me
the high or low tides at sea 
that change at different times 
or whenever
but never -  never...
depending on the moon
ebb and flow letting go
of my safety net I cannot forget - you
I have lost all sense of direction 
my perception skewed 
by misunderstandings
emotions commanding
and envelopes left un-opened 
words left un-read 
thoughts left un-said 
but you - you remain 
you are still there in my thoughts, 
my heart, my dreams - nightmares...
shadows scare hopes and clear the scope 
of what is what and who I have become
I ask the question and wait with bated breath
without bated possibilities - anticipation
without speculation of a higher powers response...
yet there is none
again I ask - who have I become...
silence echos loudly - but I am not keeping score
not now, not anymore
I battle with my internal voices, concede to my choices
and struggle with a subconscious war
I do not know who I have become
or who I am anymore...

© 2014 TrilbyYates  

Empty

Holding words so close 
they burn finger tips 
pen to paper hollow lips
the power of silence 
written expression 
lacking the gift of gab 
simple shades of regression
leave me empty...

© 2013 Trilby

July Frame Of Mind ~ 2011

Man In A Full Moon ~ 2011

Ramblings...

A conversation with self...yes, I get tired. Yes, I slip in and out of total disbelief...still, almost 4 years later. Yes, I question what it all means. Yes, I wonder what my future holds. And yes, I fear the thought of moving forward and the thought of not...

I dream of a music man who can share a song that will touch my heart and soul, bring me to tears of joy, won't interfere with yesterday and leave me with a smile of the promise for a wonderful tomorrow.

When does the tide turn, the up side of the down? Will a light go on like the flip of a switch…sudden awakening? Does the joy of life wash over me once again like a tidal wave? Or is this it…is this the simple black and white of it all. I’ve had love, lost love…let love go – and the hand of fate stepped in opening one door and slamming another closed. And now I wonder…and I question…and I’ve lost faith, short of the “man in the moon” who has no place to hide just hanging around up in the cosmos always with a wise ass grin – knowing more and telling less.

Slick kitchy diner
silver shell
hangs on the corner of
Avenue this and
Avenue that
but no one cares
who you’re waiting for
when Godot
never shows his hand
maybe a snap
of the finger
and a twist of fate
will change the scene
lending to sad songs
on a juke box
swallowing coin
like an old time toll booth
on the turnpike of life
pre-E-ZPass and
this isn’t east coast
verses west or
upstate seeming too close
to Deliverance
for any native New Yorker
with a touch of paranoia
we can slip away
without making a sound
kind of like 2 ships
in the night and
what will it take to
bring a good person
to their knees
when life keeps running on low
and the options aren’t worth
the effort
so we’ll keep skipping stones
across the Sound
and wait to see what
bounces back from the other side…

© 2011 Trilby Yates

Spring 2009

Another Day...

sun shifts comfortably
swinging back and forth
north, south, east to west
dreamers daydream
regardless of cause or effect
fingers snap to the heart beat
the way a lover’s hand would caress
gentle moments that never end
candle light and incense
reminiscent of a seductive dance
lips will kiss tears away…

love will come
another
day…
yes, love is never far away ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© 2009 Trilby Yates

Notions...

Time Limit

Time speaks to everyone with
an imaginary marker
of when bereavement will pass
ebb and flow
tidal waves of emotion
we all know the pull of a full moon
with a logical place as the surge is rearranged
from high to low
like the precision of a well crafted watch
only sorrow doesn’t play by the same practical rules
friends may step away when life moves on
six months seems long enough
for the space between memories
that fade into an extended sequence
until it is no longer a day to day thought
but for me it’s not a matter of day to day
or hour to hour
it’s a constant stream
that has a beginning
but no end
like the obscurity of the cosmos
soaring to a place
with no perception of gravity
or direction…

Potential

Drawn out nights gently unfold
into sunrise, subtle glow
reaches up and beyond
the eastern horizon
potential of a new day
Long Island shore line
will not eclipse my view
unexpected moments
stretch beyond the usual
marvel is an amazing thing
when a small child looks up
smiles as if they could trust
every word or thought
that could occur between
the innocent and the corrupt~

© 2008 Pamela Viscomi Yates

The way I write...

Some have asked how I write and it's hard to explain...so I wrote a short poem of sorts that shines some light on my way...

My Process

Fingers on the key board,
let it flow from the mind
forming a thought
then a sound,
maybe a syllable or two
a word
perhaps string a few together
like the beads of a precious necklace
as they work their way down
face and neck,
chest, arms, elbow, and wrist,
fingers to tips
sacred writing instrument
the mind, the heart, the soul
as they touch a letter,
an image appears
and comes together
highlighting emotions
that at times
are too difficult to utter
out loud…

© 2008 Pamela Viscomi Yates