Listen To Poets

In the very end, civilizations perish because they listen to their politicians and not to their poets. ~ Jonas Mekas

I Wore Lipstick Under My Mask

330

My mouth can’t help but curve upward even in hiding.

Hope skips counterpoint to each heartbeat at every encounter.

Crow’s feet crinkle in greeting every chance they get.



The Lonely Ache

296

The lonely ache is here again
It likes to strike in the wee AM
Ghosts of loved ones haunt my mind
Some living, some dead, all removed by time
The deep ache hurts but pain tinges sweet
With memories renewed in each heart beat.
A pang of longing for special guests.
Who now only remain in my lonely breast.
It’s a paradox to have a heart so full
Yet also empty with this pain so dull.
And I wait once more for the sun to rise.
To renew my soul and dry my eyes.