i am growing old —
many leaves of my memory
have yellow’d and fallen —
so that i am beginning to have
many secrets from myself —
—Terri Guillemets
i am growing old —
many leaves of my memory
have yellow’d and fallen —
so that i am beginning to have
many secrets from myself —
—Terri Guillemets
the wisdom of age
takes root to blossom
in crevices of the brain
emptied by letting go
—Terri Guillemets
but the science bears out
my catastrophic thinking
—Terri Guillemets
but on the bright side
middle age aridity
concentrates essence
—Terri Guillemets
in dreams
time is broken
we ride the shards
or they pierce
our sight —
we see with
different eyes
and know with
deeper mind
—Terri Guillemets
in bed at night his mind had a ferocious imagination
reality and unreality haunted his turbulent brain
the years ticked, an infinite clock of destiny
searching moonlight for the promise of a future
his reveries of heart were coasting on a fairy’s wing
as the world and universe drifted by fantastic shores
but the sea, work, and women — physical outlets —
were his anchor — something old, hard, and soft
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from F. Scott Fitzgerald,
After reading countless health books over the past couple of decades, I can tell you it pretty much all boils down to this: Eat plenty of veggies, work, play, rest, and don’t worry.
—Terri Guillemets
Grief bores holes
in our hearts & heads
like a woodpecker
— peck peck peck
— knock knock knock
You can’t make it stop
Eventually it flies away
— but leaves pits
that never fully heal
—Terri Guillemets
Poetic words flow much better in pleasant climes—
Springtime and autumn, more friendly for rhymes
Winter’s good too, we self-reflect well in cold times
But blazing summer melts words & numbs minds!
—Terri Guillemets
three o’clock —
anxiety, regret
in the depths of worry
swept away in the
whirlwind of nothing —
a horrible nothing
—Terri Guillemets
blackout poetry created from Octave Mirbeau, The Diary of a Chambermaid, 1891–1900
Missing you isn’t just an empty void — it’s what-ifs and questions and endless thoughts and bittersweet memories and runaway feelings and emotions that can’t get a hold on anything physical so just slip and slide around my mind, and hide and re-emerge.
—Terri Guillemets
two in the morning
mind humming from the inside out
thinking about how much I think
—Terri Guillemets
blackout poetry created from Jodi Picoult, Salem Falls, 2001
Night is filled with our loudest fears and a silent courage.
—Terri Guillemets
It’s not all about healing yourself — it’s just as importantly about letting yourself heal.
—Terri Guillemets
O! how many ghosts in a wound of war.
—Terri Guillemets
A philosopher lives in your mind,
a lover in your heart,
an alchemist in your soul.
—Terri Guillemets
Try not to worry, as it’s sticky and hard to scrub off.
—Terri Guillemets
The mind can cook up very subtle syndromes to throw at our bodies.
—Terri Guillemets
A clock is ticking
in my living room —
I never even noticed
that it makes noise —
my mind is ticking,
my heart is ticking.
Everything quiet
is audible at 3 a.m.
—Terri Guillemets
Frustration is nothing more than letting your own mind bully you.
—Terri Guillemets
graves are not limited
to the cemetery —
they lurk in our minds,
and buried in our hearts
lie garlanded stones
marking loved ones lost
—Terri Guillemets
it’s smart as can be
things that make sense in our dreams
when we wake — insane
—Terri Guillemets
Don’t let the past steal your present.
—Terri Guillemets
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.
—Terri Guillemets
Three A.M. is when
all the quiet things
become loud —
the drip in the sink,
that clock on the wall,
our hearts, our minds.
—Terri Guillemets