I will wrap you in a crimson robe
And tell you things I’ve never told
Things that you alone shall know
And I’ll kiss you on your lips
Poem from Getting Me Back (The Voices Within)
The Christmas Robe
a poem and a picture
Anarchy (Friday’s free for All)
Only a theory, only a thought.
Utter chaos. Freedom sought.
Tranquil conscience. Congruent souls.
Harmonizing. Flocks and folds
Wars abounding, strife and sorrow
Never hoping past the morrow.
Ethics prevail; morals abstract.
None to govern what we lack.
Only a theory, only a thought
Anarchy…
Life without law.
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The Fountain of Youth (A Poem & A Picture)
The fountain of youth is a murky pond
Fed by deep springs of optimism
Where no one dares to swim
Doubting toes splash at the shoreline
Mouths turned down like fingernail moons
A nervous frog leaps,
we run
Still, the ripple marks the flesh.
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I’m Baaack (As the World Turns)
I’m baaack and damn glad too.
I say that with a smile.
The adventure was certainly enjoyable. It was entertaining and enlightening… and what’s another word that starts with e?
Equilibrium.
Yeah! Well, that’s all screwed up. Can you say Mal de debarquement syndrome ? MDDS is a type of vertigo that [rarely] occurs after stepping off a cruise ship
Whew! It is hard to type while hanging onto (or on to) the arm of a chair — it feels like a fun-house up in here!
So as the world turns I have summed up my trip with a poem and pictures.
I love water…
and sunsets…
and leisurely trips.
And I love being on land
more than living on ships.
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Florida Dew
Florida Dew
(from Getting Me Back)
Three flights of stairs leave me winded
Still I light a cigarette, lean against the railing and look out over the salt ponds.
The Florida dew is still wet on my soles, mingled with imported white sand.
The grit clings to my swollen crooked feet like scared children.
It is early February and another spring like day at the southernmost point.
Roaming tourists’ cheerily fill the parking lot
A timeworn man with white hair tells a joke, refers to himself as a snowbird and the crowd cackles like the game fowl that live on the key.
Inside, the black girl from Jamaica pushes a cart loaded with towels and toiletries and yells toward the ceiling of an empty hall
Do you see my sweat!
I want to tell her yes,
Yes, I see your sweat!
Yours and every other soul’s that has bled life into this place! I see their tears and perspiration that filled the salty oceans and the ponds that surround us… that hold us here.
Instead I stare at my swollen gritty feet still wet with the Florida dew.
Remember Florida in her time of need... in the wake of Irma.
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Another Spring
You were hiding,
Yet you appeared when I called to you.
Knowing…
Too soon, you will be nothing more than a bright spot in my memory.
Nonetheless, I say welcome to another spring.
The Real Janna Hill 