currently i am about halfway through
doing the list of things i swore before
i would never ever do when i got old
—Terri Guillemets
currently i am about halfway through
doing the list of things i swore before
i would never ever do when i got old
—Terri Guillemets
pick out your fears
worries, anger, and hate
from the bag of stones you carry
and love, find yourself lifted by
the wings of featherweight faith
—Terri Guillemets
syl·la·bles in my life
i cannot utter anymore
with the grace of youth
i stutter with freedom
and slur in wild love
words that once made
sense now are blind
faith doesn’t see and
hope rarely speaks
i’ve never needed you
to spell it out for me
the echo of emptiness
calls out like the sea
ebbing flowing waving
crashing shoring up
a million tear drops
whisper gently into
the gossamer of years
winds blow away our
comforts of home in
a smoke of memories
lost childhood remains
both here and gone
audible and sadly silent
echoes of those poems
voice words that sound
exactly the same but mean
something entirely different
—Terri Guillemets
i am naked and spinning
unmasked and repenting
wasn’t i just fourteen
mere unwound hours ago
i breathed, i sang
a lyric or two, loudly
in my quiet voice —
cycled through colors
found beautiful hues
my butterfly wings
cripplingly morphed
to chrysalis again
— reflect retread —
growing wisdom in my head
thrust out the blonde hair
and that all the new
is gray matters not —
focus is a summit reached
rock bottom at the top
perimenopausal paradox —
if someone would listen
if anyone would care
from up here or down there
the invisible i have become
could unhide everted —
but what has burned out
is not the heart soul
bones mind or gut but
only the brittle shell
of youth — falling apart
shedding and crumbling
finally wasting far away
leaving a glowing
blossom unsplayed —
—Terri Guillemets
for the harsh heat wave
wet apologetic gift
from clouds to tree roots
—Terri Guillemets
princess lightning reigned
it was a dark and stormy
knight to fall in love
—Terri Guillemets
freed pubescent girl
finally crawls out of time
into middle age
—Terri Guillemets
full moon monsoon clouds
glow pale light through windy trees
parched leaves shadow dance
—Terri Guillemets
monsoon winds tell tales
lightning dances thunder sings
rain is main event
—Terri Guillemets
boom rustle tip tap
tippity clink rumble crack
whoosh whish shhh fade black
—Terri Guillemets
phoenix monsoon storm
haboob isn’t dirty word
it is dusty though
—Terri Guillemets
reading in my cozy bed, ridiculously late
words begin to slur and rhymes, to blear
my eyelids fight me — like a heavyweight
goodnight, sweet sleepy zzzzzhakespeare
—Terri Guillemets
midlife changes curled-up
forties are fiddlehead ferns
it doesn’t look like much
until it becomes unfurled
and once we get it open
things may break apart —
eventually nests unwind
but will we bear fortitude
to turn that new life into
something just as beautiful
and yet even more free
spiraling towards fifty?
—Terri Guillemets