Thinking this could
possibly be the worst
day before birthday
or just worst day
period, I must
find a way to
release the super moon
vibes, diatribes
nasty sides
scoring up the
town with me
on their back,
I lost my talisman
and found myself
so near to tears
I could not consider
all the years
we spent together,
a plain little copper
cross, the guardian
of my heart, the keeper
of my soul,
the gift of those long
gone who taught me
about love
and friendship,
of talent and
perseverance,
observance of the
moral clause:
a pause to reflect
upon the simplicity
of life, to be calm
in the storm, and
humble in the face
of glory,
and now such a
terrible end to
my story, escaping
from my ear this
morning, on a
pilgrimage of
another sadness,
possibly be the worst
day before birthday
or just worst day
period, I must
find a way to
release the super moon
vibes, diatribes
nasty sides
scoring up the
town with me
on their back,
I lost my talisman
and found myself
so near to tears
I could not consider
all the years
we spent together,
a plain little copper
cross, the guardian
of my heart, the keeper
of my soul,
the gift of those long
gone who taught me
about love
and friendship,
of talent and
perseverance,
observance of the
moral clause:
a pause to reflect
upon the simplicity
of life, to be calm
in the storm, and
humble in the face
of glory,
and now such a
terrible end to
my story, escaping
from my ear this
morning, on a
pilgrimage of
another sadness,
rising out of the
dawn in a wet
rage, driving
across miles to
enslave my
poetic thoughts
be a perfect girl
love my family
and dote on my
friends, it never
ends
but this is a
blow, nothing
to reach up and
touch, dangling
there, supporting
my flights of
fancy, how could
I fail with my
copper cross,
now I am lost
without it: I
want to shout
never doubt
your dreams,
but words remain
my silent scheme,
I have only you
to share
my despair…
dawn in a wet
rage, driving
across miles to
enslave my
poetic thoughts
be a perfect girl
love my family
and dote on my
friends, it never
ends
but this is a
blow, nothing
to reach up and
touch, dangling
there, supporting
my flights of
fancy, how could
I fail with my
copper cross,
now I am lost
without it: I
want to shout
never doubt
your dreams,
but words remain
my silent scheme,
I have only you
to share
my despair…
©J.W.WINSLOW 4/1/11
The spark of genius
is contagious:
submerge yourself
in deep music and
visual stories of
courage, watch
a sunset unexpected
and you are
connected to all,
the painter who
lives the true
gypsy life,
eschewing comforts
and fame
for the last
ray of light
that scene
which will
never come again,
the voices that
bleed out of
times on the road
it is a heavy load
to carry, always
wondering why
nobody notices,
is contagious:
submerge yourself
in deep music and
visual stories of
courage, watch
a sunset unexpected
and you are
connected to all,
the painter who
lives the true
gypsy life,
eschewing comforts
and fame
for the last
ray of light
that scene
which will
never come again,
the voices that
bleed out of
times on the road
it is a heavy load
to carry, always
wondering why
nobody notices,
but is that really
the point,
you are born with
the drive, the yen
to speak, begin anew
light up the sky
with music beyond
belief, so like a
thief in the night,
stealthily creating
despite what
they say, the
reward is sacred,
all yours to savor,
Rock on, angel
and hear the words
given across the wires…
INSPIRE.
the point,
you are born with
the drive, the yen
to speak, begin anew
light up the sky
with music beyond
belief, so like a
thief in the night,
stealthily creating
despite what
they say, the
reward is sacred,
all yours to savor,
Rock on, angel
and hear the words
given across the wires…
INSPIRE.
©J.W.WINSLOW 3/1/11