From the Book, Thoughts Without A Title (2006) - By me...

http://www.infibeam.com/Books/info/Geri-Henderson/Thoughts-Without-a-Title/1933455063.html


Behind
I tried my best,
Ran until my bones eroded.
Time, always ahead,
Left me fading into its darkness.
Behind the smoke,
Behind the stink of my own cigarette.
I saw you all, winners, jump in:
Laughter, smiles and welcome yells
In yellow, pink, blue, and red.
Your eyes screamed triumph.
Your eyes screamed happiness.
Flaming the fireinsidemyfeet,
Blowing remaining dust
Off my face and chest.


Forgotten
Forgotten?
Love was then.
And now,
love
boils inside a bottle of glass
on the high shelf of memories and fears.
Forgotten?
Not by me
— by life.
And thrown away to distant stars,
to gaze upon in wonder.
Wait to fall, like a shooting star —
A child’s begging cry.
Forgotten?
But it lives inside my every dream!
The tears await
the doors of heaven to open,
the stairs to ascend,
the faith to climb,
the truth to believe.
Forgotten?
Let me speak!
Find me cornered in your hole!
Lift me!
I will show you what was real.
Tell me it’s only a temporary change!
Breathe some hope into me!
Find me!


Inner-Child Struggles
They come from all around you
and keep you in the dark.
Your eyes are still wide open,
but there is nothing in your heart.
Only broken memories
of childhood dreams.
Buried under dense grey
is innocence, light and green.
Push away the agents of hurt and despair.
Wipe away the thickening smoke
with your most saline tears.
Buried under dense grey
is innocence, light and green.
Fly over the shadows.
Let the breeze clear your ears.
Now feel the sunlight.
Listen to the birds and trees.
They come from all around you
and keep you in the dark.


Lost
Yesterday
I had a rose
Framed in my heart.
And in time,
travel and distance gave birth
to thoughts and doubt.
Today
I gently open the frame
And remove the rose.
Today,
My hands crimson
Around the thorns.
The petals dry to rot.
Only the scent remains,
A memory of the past,
Beauty broken, hands scarred.
Today
I lost my star.


Summer Rain
My summer rain.
Where did you blow,
Uncovering the burning sun?
I turn yellow at the thought
of you healing another’s
dry and cracking ground.