The Leaving


Lovers awaken in the darkness of the dawn

The shimmer of last night’s conjugations

Imprinted on their skins

The sweetness of each other’s fruit

Tattooed on their tongues

The suppleness of their limbs

Entwined and askew

Sheets tangled

Coverings lost

They stumble from their slumber

Into the black fog

The lone light a crescent moon

yearning to be seen

The drive is silent

the hum of the music calming

for the road is unseen

They must separate once again

Knowing they are

Confined only by distance

Bound and Unbound

Consummated and Consumed

Enraptured and Captured

Deeply rooted


Anxiously Awaiting

A New Reunion

A Fresh Awakening

A Succulent Stirring

Gasping and Grasping

Mind Body Soul

Graced by Love

Woman to Woman


I remember when I knew it was you

I felt your conspicuous stare

Your obvious observations

You had heard of me through your lover

A man of ill repute

A believer in his own lies

     Who couldn’t handle any truth

 Your curiosity couldn’t stand itself

 So I wonder

Were you


Or more mystified?

Did you feel justified?

   Unaware that I knew it was YOU

Your morning appearances an insinuation

   Gathering  information about my situation

    I played it cool and remained myself

      Empowered by your insecurity

      Emboldened by my maturity

      Embraced by my community

      I’ve watched you watch me

    And I know you’re not like me

       I am graced by sensuality

            Secure in my femininity

Aglow in my luminosity

    I, too was once under his spell

   My life becoming a slow burning hell

I look at you and see you’re not well

Nearly heartless

                        A vacuous void

Neither shapes nor curves to your body and soul

Invisibly thin

                  As deep as spit

    (Well suited to him)

     Artificially earnest

With manners that are staged

Tinged with feigned politeness

      And a simmering rage

            I cannot say I wish you good luck

You see he’s only interested in a nice little fuck

I celebrate a new life

Possessed of deep roots

A bearer of ripe fruit

A feast for another much sweeter brute

Gimme Shelter


Oh, a storm is threat’ning
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away

~Mick Jagger/Keith Richards

The last time she saw him was when he called her a bitch.   It was a dark, late winter evening.  She was upstairs, still in her work clothes, installing a new thermostat in her bedroom. Then the doorbell rang. Who could that be?,  she wondered.  She called out, “Who is it?” as she descended the stairs. Turning on the back light, she saw his profile as she looked out the window.

“What do you want?”, she asked, standing by the kitchen window.  “Is Peter home?” he asked.  It was their son’s 21st birthday and he was out celebrating with friends. They had already had a surprise party at home the previous Saturday (in fact the mud room door and kitchen were still decorated) so the actual birthday night was a quiet one. She replied that he was not.

“But I have a present for him,” he said.

“Leave it in the back hall,” she said. He grew enraged, tossed it in and loudly spoke his epithet as he left.

She had not realized that she was holding her breath for the entire encounter. She listened for his truck’s departure and quickly called her girlfriend (who offered to come over). Her son had not seen or spoken to his father in over two years.  He had grown tired of his ill-treatment after living under his roof for most of his teens and arrived back home on a black February night-his car full of his life.

Since then, family life had resumed a harmonious and healthy rhythm. She and her two children had come to an understanding of the various forms of emotional abuse experienced under her former spouse and their father.  They no longer saw themselves as victims. It was as if he did not exist. And because he did not exist, it was as if the abuse had never happened. And because the abuse never happened, it was as if their past life with him had happened to other people.

This is the place at which you eventually arrive with time, help and healing.  Emotional and verbal abuse is hard to put  a finger on. The former is  an invisible fortress built over time by the one in control. The verbal abuse helps fill in the cracks to keep it hidden. Eventually, you become relegated to a cage with your role in the relationship strictly enforced. Through the eyes of the abuser, nothing is ever done right. This includes every aspect of your life and your very being- your career, housework, driving, raising the children, your identity. You never look quite right either. Something is always wrong with your body. Even when pregnant, the snide comments slip out so you are made to feel fat and unattractive. So, no matter how hard she worked to please and keep the peace, he was never satisfied. Any “mistake” was met with either a derogatory remark or stony silence for days. Any attempt to break free of that role and speak her truth was met with “punishment”.  The abuse only worsened and became more and more obvious.  She eventually learned that her part was simple. Keep her mouth shut and her legs open. Ironically, her wish was not for the relationship to end-only for the abuse to stop.

The implacable mistreatment continues even when the relationship ends. In standing and fighting for the needs of herself and her sons, she was met with false charges of neglect and abuse.  He attempted to take away her shelter twice. His goal was to make her “Scratch, Crawl and Suffer.” These words from his mouth only made her more willing to never back down.  Each meeting with him during this process was like taking a bath in dirty water. It took days to purge herself of the emotional hangover he wrought.

The abuse had a trickle down effect as it was meted out in various ways on the children. Eventually, they too, separated themselves from him.  Self-protection took precedence over the appearance of a normal father-child relationship.

Any contact with the abuser is risky and fraught with anxiety. Even with the absence of physical violence, danger can still be present. Sometimes an unexpected sighting of that person can lead to a physiological reaction. The heart assumes a rapid pace, the mouth becomes arid and the hands become unsteady. The mind races as it seeks a way out.

The universe has a special way of taking care of those of us who choose to move forward. We acknowledge what happened, seek help and eventually forgive. But we never forget.  Instead, we embrace life with a renewed sense of optimism, spreading positive energy and good karma to everyone we see.

Love Always

Jackson Wedding

He had fallen in love with those dark tresses first, he thought. Something about the way she moved her body as she walked by him set his soul on fire. Her hair moved in rhythm with the sway of her hips.  Her skin alabaster white and her eyes endless black pools-lit with a life affirming force. And then she spoke. “I’m new to town and I was wondering if there was a bookstore nearby. My brain is thirsty for words!”

“It’s two blocks down on the right. I can walk you there since it is getting a little dark,” he replied.

They shared the literary world and each other from that moment on. Although friends old and new dismissed their whirlwind romance at first, they soon realized that they were witnessing a lifetime love. So today, on this day, vows and promises were exchanged along with the anticipation of a new life they created from the love and pure passion of one another.

This Friday’s post is brought to you by Kellie Elmore. 

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

The Bad Penny


Sunday morning sunshine

Air alive with early morning briskness

My feet hit the pavement anxious with anticipation

for the quiet of a long run

My heart is bursting with excitement

as my legs move smoothly over the hills

At last at the crest of “The Killer”

I remove a layer

The heat of my arms basking in the high star

The finish is too soon, I think

Arriving home I hear the voices

of loved ones breaking the fast

We are renewing a childhood tradition

In a different incarnation

Grown-up, sharing the ritual

with the girls they love

We are filled with glee

Refreshed, we hit the road

But not before stopping for that cup of joe

And then the reverie is broken

He appears:




Our blood was once on his hands

We grapple  with this infelicitous situation

My heart races and my hands shake

I move away yet stay put

My protectors keeping him at bay

Polite, they speak in superficial tones

Pretending to be mannered

All the while  seething at the reminder

of his emotional destructions

At last they come for me

surrounding me as we depart

We breathe deeply

Freed again

Delighted that the orchard awaits our pickings

Sipping and Singing and Celebrating

Moving onward and forward

Knowing our lives are full and empty of him

September Song


Stepping out into the last of an August day, I hold onto the season

Darkness descends earlier now, but a few summer sounds remain

The delightful din of the peepers, the cheerful chirping of the crickets

Families roughhousing outside

     Laughter and whooping lighting up the dusk

The sound of the Red Sox on the radio from the house next door

The lingering humidity, a heated quiet that is slowly giving way

To the rumble of school busses and children dressed in sweaters and sweatshirts

Amber sunsets which promise cool nights and mornings blessed with a chill

Wicker baskets ready for apple picking under brilliant foliage

Reminding us of the gifts from the changing of the seasons

The autumn aroma of crisp air and nighttime bonfires

        Crackle, sizzle, roar  

We ease the chill with cocoa for the young ones    

And something that brings a glow to the cheeks

And fire to the belly for the older imbibers

We rejoice this ninth month as it births its third season

In all its wondrous glory and new beginnings

Inspired by Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday: 

#FWF Free Write Friday: Fall Word Bank

foliage – amber – wicker – aroma – sweater – cocoa

free write friday kellie elmore