MILLSTONES

 

I should just forgive you
take off this millstone
hanging from my neck
I should just forgive you
and climb out of this
rusted broke down wreck
But Vengeance sang
while Forgiveness stuttered
“Sorry” is one thing
you’ve never uttered
I should just forgive you
Just forgive and forget
I should just forgive you
I will , I will-but not quite yet.
Kathy Keogh

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IN DREAMS

 

In dreams
I raise the dead
long buried fears
unaccounted tears
all swirling ’round my head
In dreams
I raise the dead

In dreams
the past runs wild
The phones never work
ghostly shadows lurk
and the mirror holds a child
In dreams
the past runs wild

In dreams
I hit the brakes
But I lose control
I brace for the roll
as the old red Chevy shakes
In dreams
I hit the brakes.

In dreams
sometimes you’re here
for a roller coaster ride
like you never died
and you wipe away my tear
In dreams
sometimes you’re here.
In dreams
In dreams
In dreams
I raise the dead.
Kathy Keogh

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WEEDS

 

Don’t get lost in the weeds
Look up.
Wish on stars
Howl at the Blood Moon.
Spot barn owls and fruit bats
Look up
There’s a Rorschach test
of clouds
waiting to be deciphered
as the east wind styles your hair
Don’t get lost in the weeds
Look up
Look up
Look up
Kathy Keogh.

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THE LAST POET

There will come a time
when the last poet
will pick up pen
or quill
or charcoal
carving deep in caves
so maybe
someone
someday
will feel
the power of words
Hope is air to poets
and with his last breath
the last poet
will inhale life.
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LIKE AND SHARE

 


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A SOFT DAY IN SCOTLAND

 

It’s a soft day
That’s what Grand Dad called misty days
like this
It’s a soft day
from this hill
where I stand
The gray Church scolds me
Next Sunday.
I whisper
Next Sunday.
I want to roll down this hill
of thick Scottish grass
like I did as a child
but the grave stones
at the bottom
stop me
I walk
reverently
through the Cemetery
stopping
to read
forgotten names
and Crossing myself
when one cold gray stone
just reads “Infant”
a lone primrose stands watch
It’s a soft day
and the mist Baptizes me
I walk slowly
up to the top
of the grassy hill
The gray Church welcomes me
I Cross myself
and roll down .
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TONGUE

 

She bites her tongue
when she wants to speak her mind
She’d like to pack a bag
and just leave this all behind
Fear is her companion
and Anger is her child
She’s lost her voice
handcuffed her choice
and it’s too long since she’s smiled

Her shoe laces tied together
so she remembers not to run
Living in his shadow
dreams of dancing in the sun
But dreams without intention
is just paper with no pen
She wants to run
She wants to scream
so she bites her tongue again.
Kathy Keogh

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