my heart on a string

the days stretch

running me out

pulling you in

walking in circles

dizzy and quiet

the tighter my grasp

the more that floats away

I can’t see the line

obscured by the time

darkness holds light

when you lie next to me

It’s Promote Yourself Monday at the Go Dog Go Café!

---

Other women get flowers from their lovers.
You bring me
ice packs for my
swollen, ugly face.
I tell them I
fell down the stairs.
But there are no stairs leading anywhere
except
to the Abyss where
love used to live.

You said you wouldn’t
hurt me again.
Other women would leave;
I bought a gun.

For Justine

A monstrous sail
On a 50 ft. mast
Can hang limp
Over a motionless ship
If not pointed
In the right direction.

A simple sail
On a 5 ft. mast
Can be stretched full,
If the Captain knows the wind.

But once caught
The wind can be lost,
The sail readjusted
To a new course,
Or the outboard engine
Fired up
To take you
To the port of your choice.

7/3/19-7/4/19

My new book The Darkness of His Dreams: Poetry is now available on Amazon.com. Visit the Books page for more information.

If you enjoy my work and would like to support my efforts beyond just being a reader, please consider becoming a supporter on Patreon. By doing so, depending on the level of support you pledge, you can have early access to content, exclusive “behind the scenes” content, and other bonuses:

There lived a goddess of summer,

Beloved of gentlemen fall,

She smelled of honeysuckle,

And was roundly liked by all,

But her eyes and lips were held,

By winters chill embrace,

And so fall was compelled,

To but marvel at her face,

He waited all the days,

And could not help but gaze,

Enraptured by her art,

He loved her for her beauty,

He loved her for her heart,

He loved her for her duty,

That he could not ask to part,

As leaves began to drift,

Turning red and gold,

He left for her a gift,

To ward against the cold,

A scarf that smelled of campfires,

Pumpkins and of spice,

He wished only to convay desires,

And hoped she found it nice,

For many days he’d worked,

To make perfect every stich,

Now his ears they perked,

And his breath began to hitch,

Before him stood the goddess,

A poem by my imaginary friend, Masaki.

Too Tired

Tired,
I am too tired
To walk anymore
In this long walk of life.
My limbs are sore,
My heart is throbbing,
An unceasing pain haunts my head.
I have fallen again
But I don’t want to get up.
Fed up
I am with everything.
Let it be over.
Please let everything be over.
I am tired.
Too tired.
I want to quit, I want to end.
My smiles have departed already,
My peace has gone.
My foot is dead.
The only thing alive
Is my poor little head
Crying for sleep.
A deep, deep sleep.
Maybe it’s too early,
Maybe the years are left.
But I am tired, too tired,
All I want is my last bed.

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

You are so sweet to my soul

you make me crave you like candy

you are irresistible

and I am so weak

 

Exhaling, I Get Dizzy

From one note flattened
to the next floating whole,

textured with rustling
stalks and the sweet odor

of dried grasses, you
detach, drift off.

What colors this tone, you
ask. What sings my day?