terri guillemets

composed by yours truly

Fading out

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

Defining moments

We all have those moments in our lives that transform us — something small or big happens and we’re never the same.

Sometimes we remember these moments in our personal histories as leaps, or falls — or just serendipitous wanderings — from one life segment to the next.

Or we mark them like stars on a map of self — constellations of life-changing moments. Some seem crazy small and wouldn’t even register as stars in others’ systems. But in our own they blaze bright.

Or maybe our days are raindrops and our lives rolling clouds and these moments are lightning strikes. Raindrop days, lightning-strike moments.

These maps and moments imprint our souls, our minds, our memorious hearts. Our stories of self are made from them.

Terri Guillemets

Him

He asked to meet
He wanted to talk

He tried to kiss me
He tried to grab

We parted ways

He was mad
That I wouldn’t
Give him anything

I was mad about
What he was
Trying to take

Terri Guillemets

Battery

my youth is caked over
with heartache and pains
regrets and inflammations
and sudden calcifications
of ligaments and spirit
not-bothers and defeats
that went to my head
and bruises that take
too long to heal
cracked teeth and
why-tries and i’m-tireds

that which galloped
now rolls in ruts
my blonde has passed
to mousy and gray —
everyone i know
looks tired and frayed
sagging from the weight
of time and overbusy
and too much stuff
in too-big houses —
it’s too much life
and too little living —
no vitamines will fix this

Terri Guillemets

Awake’ish

my brain —
desiccating
deprived
of sleep
pulsating
too much
life today —

is

as i lay
here in bed
becoming its
own creature
trying to crawl
out of my head —

it throbs away
seconds ticking
memory flashes
of today tocking —

twelve o-three
twelve twenty
one eleven
two seventeen
three something —

fickle
in my mind
restless
the thoughts
runaway
hobos
on a train
down the tracks
to four o’clock —

how did Byron
how the F
did Shelley
write masterpieces
at such young ages
when it has taken
me 36 years
just to get out
three good poems
and entire reams
of bad ones —

how is it that
i wrote better
in my teens
in my early 20s
than i ever have
in middle age
and why won’t that
come back to me? —

oh my brain!
is it purring
or is that the cat?
these thoughts! —

why does
the inevitable creep
ever closer to me?
not crawl
but threaten
overpower
reach over me
horrific shadows
surrounding me
hovering
swallowing
with immensity
of darkness —

insomnia is
a sickness
and i am so sick —

in waking hours
of sunlight
the inevitable
is invisible
but during
wakeful nights
it suffocates
still invisible
but it is all
that i can see —

oh comfort please
i beg of you
curl up with me —

brain throbbing
wanting throbbing
future throbbing —
pink, rubbery, firm
pressing against
my thoughts —
all it takes
is one big fear
to sit on my mind
for all the air
of the future
to explode
with a bang
and seep out
with a muffle
leaving me
empty —

isn’t it interesting
that we can die
from too much of something
that we can die
from lack of something
for want of something
i could die
of lacking sleep
i could die
from too much
passion for life
they are intertwined
within me, destiny —

images or omens
flash through my mind
a watercolor painting
all the colors shades of black —

i have no regrets
in my past
all my regrets
are in the future —

the tree outside my window
is rapidly growing leaves
from bare winter
to verdant spring
but all shades of green
are the same with
night’s eyes closed —

i may as well
bring the typewriter
into bed with me
and let it sing
me a lullaby:
clack click clack
once upon a time
happily ever after
that is all she wrote
springtime mayday
brain overboard —

the cold chatters
in my teeth
warmth boils over
in my brain
and it helps me
feel better to say
the same over and
over in every refrain —

i cannot sleep
the loudness
of springtime
awakening
is deafening
even in the middle
of the night —

oh! it is two a.m.
oh two hundred
oh two oh oh
oh please
let me sleep tonight —

as i turn over
flip-flopping sides
my brain is turned
from black to white
it tosses a ball
playing ping pong
bouncing, falling
flailing seconds
minutes hours ticking
water dripping
from the faucet
into the sink
time drips out of
my leaky head
please let me sleep —

Terri Guillemets

written while teetering on the brink of sleep, from 00:57  to 02:13, and unedited excepting dashes