Afternoon in Summer

Summer afternoon, misty cool rain washes away sadness, residual pain.

Approaching promised moon, like a pearl balloon, floats above cloudy lanes drenched in rain.

Earth beneath forever sky, shimmers, shines with endless life.

Blueness blends in a thousand shades of sky, birds, flowers, rocks, rivers.

Earth aches under its own weight.

Power, beauty, prisms of light sparkle in rain puddles, and drench the parched earth.

Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2022

Chasing Shadows

black and brown wooden wall decor
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Chasing Shadows

Angry,

I am.

But, I bury it deeply within the folds of my skin like hidden scars.

I dare not let you see the times I have broken.

Weak,

I am,

at the knees at the thought of you.

Angry,

I am that you are smooth and like water slip through my fingertips.

Envious,

I am of you and the manner in which you glide through your days unencumbered by convention, you move from place to place like a racing wind, not settling,

just moving.

And I wish I could capture you and hold you,

but,

angry,

I am that you move like liquid through my arms.

You move through memory like shadows in late evening,

lying down and disappearing with the faltering sunlight.

I have fallen completely in love with the faltering shadow.

Angry,

I am for chasing shadows with my heart.

Copyright 2019 Jenny W. Andrews

 

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle. My published name is Jenny Andrews. Thanks for reading!

-Jenny

Watching World

 

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WATCHING WORLD

Lives thick with regret,

things that securely hidden in the darkest depths of my heart leak out like poison.

I would wait a thousand lifetimes just to explain the unexplainable to my own reflection in the mirror of my mind.

I can still see him under the streetlight walking toward me and me pausing as if the watching world did not matter.

Memory like a movie replaying relentlessly.

Yearning to step into that scene and feel the passion again.

Memory turns to regret,

because there are things left undone,

unsaid.

And now the world has moved on and so have we.

All that remains are the promises that rot away like discarded poems in closed drawers.

Copyright 2019, Jenny W. Andrews

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is available on Amazon/Kindle. It is available in both Kindle and paperback. I look forward to receiving your feedback. Thanks.

-Jenny

 

Childhood

brown wooden armchair on brown wooden floor
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CHILDHOOD

Chair in the corner of the dining room,

and Daddy sitting in it, and only the orange glow from the ashes,

and gray puffs of smoke,

gave any signal of human presence.

Otherwise it was just the darkness and a chair in the corner,

otherwise it was just daddy in the dark and all alone.

I watched the firelight from the cigarette, as a child,

and wondered why the night was so black,

and why Daddy was so alone, and why voices rang out in the night.

I thought of Mama in the next room sleeping,

and I wondered why I was so small, and why Mama and Daddy never laughed.

And I felt like the night, cold,

and like Daddy,

and like Mama.

so all alone.

Copyright 2019, Jenny W. Andrews

 

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is currently available at Amazon/Kindle. I would love to hear any feedback about my poetry. Thanks.

-Jenny

 

Melancholy

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Melancholy

A thought turned over in my mind; melancholy morning mulling over the rumors of his return that never will be.

I do not believe in love, but the hunger is ripe like rotted apples decaying in the sun, puddles splashing along the thought.

Love me,

I used to say,

but, rotting apples decay.

 

Copyright 2019  Jenny W. Andrews