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shadows and light reveal

nothing through the window.

unintentionally late. someone took my place.

now sitting


on a bench,

waiting for an opening.

my first “intake.”

heavy heat is settling in.

fragments of feelings screened by plain yellow door,

cracked walls,

broken sun and then,

diffident, I resist,

refrain from testifying to the ominous presence

threatening my existence.


a breeze is what I need.

cool air on my face…

grains of sea salt amplified by longing

touch my lips, my tongue.

movement of waves

back and forth…

waves of movement ooze electricity up my thighs

ripple behind, round my breasts,

up and over and around

softly caressing, rocking, pacifying


for one brief moment I feel good.



intellectually guarded, confounded

wrapped in self pity, self loathing, self preservation and

fears. louder voices wake me from my fantasy,

call my name.

there, in a circle of professional strangers

are slips of paper slipped through time,

survivors of crimes, tormented lines, abused curves,

dots and coffee stains.

my frightened beads glance around,

a bird soon to be caged,

I can’t remember how to fly.

they are staring at me, looking through me and beyond

to some meaningful insight.

perspectives shifting in their chairs.

scribbles and screens. they will intervene or

hold me.

(rocking… )

and then I want to be free

with no presence but my own




uncertain of what I am to face but,



the moment before dawn is the darkest,

but then there can be light.

there will be.

I will be


~ entered in OpenLinkNight – week 10 at dVerse Poets Pub, Brian Miller hosting – read, link, comment, drink… enjoy!  

going somewhere?

This train's destination is Cleveland Circle

photograph: (C) AB Troen ~ Last 380 Hours

wooosh she’s near

one step back

click and snap

smiling scraps.

fingers letting go of

closing doors that show no

cares for long goodbyes or bags

forgotten on the borderlines.

windows smudged with hearts and fears

reflecting past too close, too dear.

then coming from the car nearby

is strumming – no more tears, no cry,

which summons like that piper once

to follow waves of joy, of pleasure,

reaching in, relieving deadweight

freeing empty spaces aching.

inhaling, exhaling…

aimlessly aiming.

craving creating.

stuck in chains chaining,

naval chord threatening.

screech screens screams.

swallow – choke.

slow release

here it goes…

open doors.


the steps.


~ claudia schoenfeld host of Poetics tonight at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, offering song and drinks to lift up spirits and challenges to about trains… this is my entry.

שירת יוסף - ቅኔ ዮሴፍ

אתר שירים אישי / የስነ ግጥም ብሎግ /

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Copyright © 2013, Carol Troen, All rights reserved

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