altered prose by Terri Guillemets, 2019
from The Man Who Loved Jane Austen
by Sally Smith O’Rourke, 2001, page 53
What I do
altered prose by Terri Guillemets, 2019
from The Man Who Loved Jane Austen
by Sally Smith O’Rourke, 2001, page 53
-all posts-
altered prose by Terri Guillemets, 2019
from The Man Who Loved Jane Austen
by Sally Smith O’Rourke, 2001, page 53
All-nighter
Mockingbird lives in a tree just outside our door —
and every spring he tells songful bedtime stories
about his ardent quest to find a mockingmaiden —
his lovely talented tales start with once upon a time
then it’s nonstop plot and plagiarism all night long
with the happy ending note sometime near dawn!
Anew
Our bodies let go when it’s time to let go — it’s called death. We ought to let go of the little burdensome things each day — that’s called living.
Inflame
the world we abuse
roasting us like marshmallows
in a fire we lit
Ever finding
Always remember lost, so that you don’t take for granted found.
Why we can’t let go
Regret is the glue that makes grief stick around for a lifetime.
Waking welcome
Sun coaxes life
from the earth
with its warmth —
Grow, thrive, breathe
green things of the land
wake from your
winter’s nap and
joyously reach
for the spring —
Colors burst
into vibrant being —
fresh fireworks
on verdant stems of life
Relentless
Time doesn’t tick
it doesn’t tock —
it flows relentless
it is we who chop
its water with our oars
Minds awash
Belief stains darker, imprints deeper than truth.
Orkestrel
Birdsong: a branch of music.
Pain & struggle
We can’t always see the scatters and tatters of a broken heart. Kindness is due to all fellow beings — we never know the invisible hurts they’re enduring.
Can’t freakin’ sleep
insomnia is invisible
but hard as concrete
blackout poetry created from Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, 1996
Connections
Those we love and lose are always connected by heartstrings into infinity.