Her voice fit her like the satin gown she wore
Sliding sexily around all the curves of her body
Surrounding her in a smoke colored liquid shine
She held her head high but not too high
The curve of her neck was provocative
Her hair was the color of maturing honey
It fell in curls around her forehead where it escaped
The chignon
That elegant hairstyle that this event dictated
Her tall frame was exaggerated by the delicately heeled shoes she wore
She carried nothing
And she looked as though she never needed anything
She was soft but striking in this light
The candle light and mirrors reflected her beauty to the whole room
No one knew her
Many wondered who she was
But no one dared to ask
Her laugh was like the tinkling of crystal glasses
Her aura was that of mystery
She left before anyone knew who she was
An angel from the elegant past
Visiting again the place of her final toast
all rights reserved: Sharlene Thornton
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
driving home
Late spring weather on an early spring day
Country on the left and rap on the right
Classic rock from somewhere back
Guy in the truck tries not to look like he’s looking at me
Girl in the shades thinks she is invisible
Just because I can’t see your eyes
Light changes
Startled people leave their day dreams and start to drive again
Two mates for life fly over us
Honking their soulful love songs to each other
Stop again
This time to watch the little sparrow chase the blackbird away from her nest
Only a fraction of the bigger birds size she still scares it away
What a mother will do
Go again
Hey buddy, use a blinker next time
Feeling invisible as usual
As cars drift into my pathway
I fade into scenery
Another stop…last one and then I can turn into my neighborhood
Neighborhood…what does that even mean anymore
Just another place to be unnoticed
I don’t know anyone there
I just get my mail, use the pool, and sit on my porch
I spend most of my time inside my unit
Where I am assigned to be for now
What is the point in making roots
No one sees me now
Growing downwards isn’t going to make me easier to see
Here we are
Home at last
In the assigned parking space
Using borrowed keys to enter borrowed spaces
Filled with my belongings
Just things I take along from place to place
None of it matters to anyone but me
Sometimes when you’re invisible it makes thing easier to see
And others times you wish you didn’t have to see how alone you really are
Put the t.v. on for company
Open the door to the porch
The cats rush out to watch the life outside the screens
They barely notice you are home
Except that you opened the door
Later they will cuddle with you and profess their love with rumbling
But for now, you do your thing and they will do theirs
Wait for the phone to ring, it never does
Check email…nothing personal
Think about calling or writing someone, but too lonely to break the loneliness
And so it goes on
Maybe everyone else is feeling just like this ; that would be comforting to know
all rights reserved, Sharlene Thornton
Country on the left and rap on the right
Classic rock from somewhere back
Guy in the truck tries not to look like he’s looking at me
Girl in the shades thinks she is invisible
Just because I can’t see your eyes
Light changes
Startled people leave their day dreams and start to drive again
Two mates for life fly over us
Honking their soulful love songs to each other
Stop again
This time to watch the little sparrow chase the blackbird away from her nest
Only a fraction of the bigger birds size she still scares it away
What a mother will do
Go again
Hey buddy, use a blinker next time
Feeling invisible as usual
As cars drift into my pathway
I fade into scenery
Another stop…last one and then I can turn into my neighborhood
Neighborhood…what does that even mean anymore
Just another place to be unnoticed
I don’t know anyone there
I just get my mail, use the pool, and sit on my porch
I spend most of my time inside my unit
Where I am assigned to be for now
What is the point in making roots
No one sees me now
Growing downwards isn’t going to make me easier to see
Here we are
Home at last
In the assigned parking space
Using borrowed keys to enter borrowed spaces
Filled with my belongings
Just things I take along from place to place
None of it matters to anyone but me
Sometimes when you’re invisible it makes thing easier to see
And others times you wish you didn’t have to see how alone you really are
Put the t.v. on for company
Open the door to the porch
The cats rush out to watch the life outside the screens
They barely notice you are home
Except that you opened the door
Later they will cuddle with you and profess their love with rumbling
But for now, you do your thing and they will do theirs
Wait for the phone to ring, it never does
Check email…nothing personal
Think about calling or writing someone, but too lonely to break the loneliness
And so it goes on
Maybe everyone else is feeling just like this ; that would be comforting to know
all rights reserved, Sharlene Thornton
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
he grits his teeth anticipating pain
she looks at him and feels it before he does
she doesn't want to say what he doesn't want to hear
but she has no right to keep it from him
he knows what he has done
and he knows he deserves his fate
his love is impulsive
hers is forgiving
she rubs his jaw with warm hands
and wills him to relax
she moves her gentle fingers to his eyes
instinct takes over and closes his lids
forcing his surrender
she loves him more than he can know, and will take his pain into her
and he finds himself giving way under her electric touch
and then she strikes
with a kiss
and turns her back and walks away
his jaw falls slack
and she is gone
away from him
taking his love and his will
and he throws himself
supine
it is over in an unforgettable moment
she looks at him and feels it before he does
she doesn't want to say what he doesn't want to hear
but she has no right to keep it from him
he knows what he has done
and he knows he deserves his fate
his love is impulsive
hers is forgiving
she rubs his jaw with warm hands
and wills him to relax
she moves her gentle fingers to his eyes
instinct takes over and closes his lids
forcing his surrender
she loves him more than he can know, and will take his pain into her
and he finds himself giving way under her electric touch
and then she strikes
with a kiss
and turns her back and walks away
his jaw falls slack
and she is gone
away from him
taking his love and his will
and he throws himself
supine
it is over in an unforgettable moment
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
1:29 AM 3/20/12
woke up coughing again
with the song in my head
"let the wind take your troubles away"
I'd only been asleep a few hours
what was it about?
the dream on the edge of remembering
what floor is Mr. Brennan's office on?
do you work here?
should I get my hair done?
You can wear your dress off the shoulder now
it's after five
I don't want to
it is uncomfortable
you can't share the couch
you have to sleep on the floor
oh no!
here come the chaperons
pretend to be asleep
skip ahead
what do you want to do today?
need to leave the house
vintage stores and record shops
maybe but don't forget the wedding is at two
I need to get my eyebrows shaped and my hair done
what for? this isn't my wedding
"may the wind take your troubles away"
with the song in my head
"let the wind take your troubles away"
I'd only been asleep a few hours
what was it about?
the dream on the edge of remembering
what floor is Mr. Brennan's office on?
do you work here?
should I get my hair done?
You can wear your dress off the shoulder now
it's after five
I don't want to
it is uncomfortable
you can't share the couch
you have to sleep on the floor
oh no!
here come the chaperons
pretend to be asleep
skip ahead
what do you want to do today?
need to leave the house
vintage stores and record shops
maybe but don't forget the wedding is at two
I need to get my eyebrows shaped and my hair done
what for? this isn't my wedding
"may the wind take your troubles away"
Friday, February 24, 2012
Fire
The thing about fire is
It jumps for joy
It bends and dances
In any wind
It is an explosion of energy
And a physical manifestation of life and death
It lives by oxygen and dies by oxygen
It consumes and is consumed
It is fluid
It is powerful
And it is real
For a fleeting moment
Like life,
Life, faith, universe
It jumps for joy
It bends and dances
In any wind
It is an explosion of energy
And a physical manifestation of life and death
It lives by oxygen and dies by oxygen
It consumes and is consumed
It is fluid
It is powerful
And it is real
For a fleeting moment
Like life,
Life, faith, universe
Sunday, February 5, 2012
True Stories
I'm taking a class this semester in creative non-fiction writing. It is the art of telling true stories.
Any story that you tell from your memory should be true to the best of your recollection. You should write it true to memory. The challenge of this class for me is going to be picking the two memories that will become my stories. Do I write about the time that I came home to my apartment and thought that we'd been robbed, only to find out that my roommate was moving out and hadn't said anything to me? Do I write about the time I moved out of my family home despite my father saying that I wouldn't be able to come back when the summer was over; and me, not believing him, made no plans and ended up living out of someones closet? Homeless really but for the charity of friends, never having to sleep on the street, but once or twice in apartment building hallways. Do I write about the time Paul and I went to New York City and there was a snow storm and his car was towed but when we asked the police the first time it wasn't "in the system" yet and we spent all day trying to find that car? Or what about the time when I was six and the principal invited me to a meeting of school board members and my dad was so very proud of me? Or what about the time that Roger and I spent several hours on a blanket in the middle of a field, just looking at the stars and waiting for a lunar eclipse? Do I write about moving to Virginia? Or interviewing at Smith College? Or maybe a story about Paul and the wonderful adventures we've had together? Or Buddy Bird coming to live with us? Do I go back to childhood or write about something more recent? And because the content of the story, whether it is shocking or funny or sad or inspirational, doesn't matter towards the grade for this assignment, how do I pick a story that I can tell with finesse? A story that I can make come alive on the page the way it is still alive in my head? This is the challenge I face, and I know that I will find one story for each assignment, but will this class open the sieve? Will I finally be able to write it all down, to make sense of it? And more importantly, will I look back too much and forget to move forward?
Any story that you tell from your memory should be true to the best of your recollection. You should write it true to memory. The challenge of this class for me is going to be picking the two memories that will become my stories. Do I write about the time that I came home to my apartment and thought that we'd been robbed, only to find out that my roommate was moving out and hadn't said anything to me? Do I write about the time I moved out of my family home despite my father saying that I wouldn't be able to come back when the summer was over; and me, not believing him, made no plans and ended up living out of someones closet? Homeless really but for the charity of friends, never having to sleep on the street, but once or twice in apartment building hallways. Do I write about the time Paul and I went to New York City and there was a snow storm and his car was towed but when we asked the police the first time it wasn't "in the system" yet and we spent all day trying to find that car? Or what about the time when I was six and the principal invited me to a meeting of school board members and my dad was so very proud of me? Or what about the time that Roger and I spent several hours on a blanket in the middle of a field, just looking at the stars and waiting for a lunar eclipse? Do I write about moving to Virginia? Or interviewing at Smith College? Or maybe a story about Paul and the wonderful adventures we've had together? Or Buddy Bird coming to live with us? Do I go back to childhood or write about something more recent? And because the content of the story, whether it is shocking or funny or sad or inspirational, doesn't matter towards the grade for this assignment, how do I pick a story that I can tell with finesse? A story that I can make come alive on the page the way it is still alive in my head? This is the challenge I face, and I know that I will find one story for each assignment, but will this class open the sieve? Will I finally be able to write it all down, to make sense of it? And more importantly, will I look back too much and forget to move forward?
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Fantastic Noise
There was a fantastic noise outside
And even though I was tucked away inside
The noise found its way to me
And I found myself beckoned to my window sill
I rose from my bed with a bit of caution
But once my naked feet hit the cold floor
I flew like a shot to the window
Peeking from the edge of the pane
I could not see anything below that could have made such a cacophony
I wondered if I had imagined it
But I couldn’t have
It was so big
I scampered to the other side and looked in the other direction
There! There was something new!
What it was I couldn’t quite determine
I’d never seen such a thing before
A rather large carriage was at the alley opening
On it were flags and banners of all colors
The colors themselves a fantastic noise
A large animal was harnessed to the carriage
But I couldn’t see what type it was
Then I discovered what the noise had been
A broken wheel was half in and half out of the driveway drain
What should I do?
No other window contained a curious face peering into the night
No person stirred below
What if someone was hurt?
Perhaps the nanny would know what to do
Or perhaps I’d be in trouble for leaving my bedchamber
Oh the excitement that beat in my tiny chest!
Tiny, why should I think of myself as tiny, I wondered
Here I was the man of the house while father was away
Nanny would do what I asked of her
I watched the carriage for awhile longer
Hoping that someone would repair the wheel
But no one came along
I went to Nanny’s door and knocked
Once, twice, three times
She came to the door in foul spirits
I dragged her by the hand to the window and asked her to look
To see the carriage and the very large animal
And to advise me whatever I should do
She looked and then advised me to get back to my bed and do my dreaming there
It appeared that the fantastic noise had only been a noise in my dreams
and what I saw from the window pane had only been my dreams
Staying with me after I awoke
But what an exciting night I had had
That night was sleepless til the morn
And I begged to paint the carriage during lessons
But Nanny said to keep it to myself and never speak of it again
Did she see it too?
all rights reserved S. Thornton
And even though I was tucked away inside
The noise found its way to me
And I found myself beckoned to my window sill
I rose from my bed with a bit of caution
But once my naked feet hit the cold floor
I flew like a shot to the window
Peeking from the edge of the pane
I could not see anything below that could have made such a cacophony
I wondered if I had imagined it
But I couldn’t have
It was so big
I scampered to the other side and looked in the other direction
There! There was something new!
What it was I couldn’t quite determine
I’d never seen such a thing before
A rather large carriage was at the alley opening
On it were flags and banners of all colors
The colors themselves a fantastic noise
A large animal was harnessed to the carriage
But I couldn’t see what type it was
Then I discovered what the noise had been
A broken wheel was half in and half out of the driveway drain
What should I do?
No other window contained a curious face peering into the night
No person stirred below
What if someone was hurt?
Perhaps the nanny would know what to do
Or perhaps I’d be in trouble for leaving my bedchamber
Oh the excitement that beat in my tiny chest!
Tiny, why should I think of myself as tiny, I wondered
Here I was the man of the house while father was away
Nanny would do what I asked of her
I watched the carriage for awhile longer
Hoping that someone would repair the wheel
But no one came along
I went to Nanny’s door and knocked
Once, twice, three times
She came to the door in foul spirits
I dragged her by the hand to the window and asked her to look
To see the carriage and the very large animal
And to advise me whatever I should do
She looked and then advised me to get back to my bed and do my dreaming there
It appeared that the fantastic noise had only been a noise in my dreams
and what I saw from the window pane had only been my dreams
Staying with me after I awoke
But what an exciting night I had had
That night was sleepless til the morn
And I begged to paint the carriage during lessons
But Nanny said to keep it to myself and never speak of it again
Did she see it too?
all rights reserved S. Thornton
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