In the silence of the room
vinyl crackles
like some distant message
over a wireless radio. The piano plays
and shadows fall
upon me, the wall, the day.
Twilight beckons,
with fingers of light, its seduction of me
is complete …
Published on Medium: Assemblage by Loose Words
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©2021 Christine Kelly
Photograph by the author
To gain access to the secret
vault of my heart
search not
for key
or magic word, even
I know not what it is …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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:
©2020 Christine Kelly
Photograph by the author
Some
Some labyrinths are found in our minds.
Instead of leafy verdant cover,
binding as steel but soft
beneath the fingers we trail over it,
this boundary is rough. Hewn
from thickets grown of time
and pain. Notched ridges made smooth,
relentless touch a marker of my journey.
I seek reprieve
and escape from what I’ve known.
Prudence mislaid, I stumble
through the warren of my thoughts …
Published on Medium: Assemblage by Loose Words
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:
©2020 Christine Kelly
Waylaid by sentimental stirrings,
unintentional memories
found folded in my pocket.
The faint scent of those yesterdays
clinging to the paper …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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:
©2020 Christine Kelly
Photograph by the author
Notes to nobody
but this girl I used to be.
Confessing gritty truths
to a parchment soul
stained with salty abandon …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You
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:
©2020 Christine Kelly
Photograph by the author
Meeting me for the first time, you’d be unsurprised to find I love books, baking, and even considered starting a business that combined the two. One thing, though, I doubt anyone would associate with me is this: I love a good cocktail. Specifically, I love mixing a good cocktail.
I’ve never been what you’d call a big drinker. Though my twenties were full of outings with friends, pub crawls, and dinner parties, I was considered a lightweight. In those days, the beverages imbibed were far from sophisticated and meant only to pack a punch with as little money outlay as possible. Even in my thirties and forties, it was rare that anything more potent than wine or beer passed my lips.
Then came my divorce, singlehood, and a desire for change. It was time to shake things up — literally and figuratively. For me — the person least likely to have a liquor cabinet — the ritual of the Friday night cocktail was born …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You
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:
©2021 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved.
Photograph by the author
The mind becomes a ticking
time bomb, silence
settling like a fog.
Questions have no answers
and the weight of every one of them
smothers
what you do have.
You cannot breathe, for the journey
your mind takes you on
a whirlwind of emotions
you run down rabbit holes
better suited to a tale of Alice
and the person you wish to be
is masked
by this temporary madness …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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:
©2020 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved.
Photograph by the author
We the People
was our birth,
our beginning. But, we are no longer
We the People. How long has it been
since we could claim to be We
instead of Them or Us?
We the People
is an idea we fetishize,
placing it on a pedestal
when it is meant to be read
cover to cover,
intended to be worn
until it slides over us
like a second skin,
covering us in a common identity …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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:
© 2020 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved
Photograph by author
It’s raining, a drink of water after parched days. The ground was littered with odd drops, scattered randomly, before the thunder came and the heavens opened.
The rain always stops me in my tracks. I wait. I watch. I wonder. And my heart aches with some unfathomable feeling that soaks me to my core with a haunting want …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
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:
© 2020 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved
Photo by Nadia Valko on Unsplash
The ivories he tickles
are behind her eyes
accidentals touched
strings struck …
Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You for Poetry Sunday
Find the complete version here.
:
© 2020 Christine Kelly
All Rights Reserved.
Photograph: my own
Siren Whispers 