The Daily Post – childhood

Posts by VictoriaFeathers

Little Girls

Long green bean legs and knobby knees
Pink tutu’s bobbing against shapeless thighs
Running and dancing, stopping to twirl
Wide eyed wonder in young girl’s eyes

Dimples in cheeks, she has two, you have one
Big tooth smiles, three teeth gone
See whose legs can faster run
Chasing each other across the lawn

Practicing dance moves they’ve created
Showing off gymnastic tricks
Cartwheels, handstands attempting splits
She can do them now, they’re all elated

Sisters and cousins creating bonds
Holding hands, heartfelt hugs
Innocent moments, good time sharing
Secret smiles and chasing fairies

God Mourns

 

The mingled scent of jasmine, rose, and oleander usually intoxicating

Becomes cloying in the early morning mist, the humidity trapping the scent.

Bird song a cacophony so shrill it blisters the eardrums;

once sweet music telegraphed from the ears directly to the heart.

 

Dark gray clouds tent the land to hold back the sunshine

Flowers hang their heads and shrink into themselves

The earth is parched; cracks split the land where rivers flowed

Love has died; hearts stopped beating, stones wrapped in apathy

 

The cloying smells cover the scent of death of honesty, character and loyalty

Shrill cacophony replaces the art of conversation and compromise

Charcoal replaces the colors of the rainbow, a world of monochrome tilts

People stumble in the gray fog refusing to lift their eyes to Heaven, God mourns

(C) Victoria Ramsey

An hour in the sun

 

Head titled back against the worn wooden bench

Chin pointed at the sun she closes her eyes

Content to listen to birds unseen, sun warming

Her flushed face from cheeks to chest, buttons undone

 

She imagines waves lapping against her bare feet

Feeling not green grass so much as warm sand to tuck her toes into

The laughter and calls of children playing around her

Take her back to long summer days spent on Michigan beaches

 

Sparing breezes wisp across her damp forehead

Moving strands of hair over her temples to tickle

And fan the glistening sheen on her face

The corners of her mouth turn up as delicate fingers caress

 

One eye opens partway and squints at her gold watch

Times has idled on and a quarter hour remains

Allowing her to sit and daydream on this old wooden bench

Carved by time and lovers who immortalized their forever love

(C) victoria ramsey

 

To my dog

 

Sharp rain cuts my skin

Thunder breaks my bones

I hold my breath under water

I fear that I will drown

 

Shake so hard my teeth spill out

I cannot remain afoot

Slogging through sucking mud

Pulled beneath drenched earth

 

Lakes become raging rivers

Surfer waves beat across the lawn

Noah’s ark floats down road

Springs fury beats and defeats blooms

 

You in my lap, arms hold you tight

Quivering, fur flies about the room

Tickling nostrils, choking my breath

Be still my friend, tis only a spring shower

(c) victoria ramsey

 

 

Circles

 

I neglected you as my eyes failed to detect light

And my heart slowly hardened

I no longer heard your words, only the voice

Its cadence lulled me to a stupor, comatose

 

You humiliated me time and again

Your self-serving arrogance

No concerns for my dignity

I walked within your shadow, gathering crumbs

 

Your body failed you and beauty ebbed

Too late you turned to me, I only a shell

Nothing left to offer you

You walked in my shadow, gathering crumbs

Summer Fruit

 

Purple plum juice drips from the corner of his lips

Slowly streams down the sculpted chin and drops

To his white tee shirt forming red blots

His lips curve up and blue eyes light as he leers

 

Flames burn in her cheeks as she watches him eat

Surely he can read her mind, the joy he takes in his plum

She tastes the syrup and feels the press of fruity lips

Against her own hungry mouth, embarrassed thoughts

 

Sliding from the lichen blanketed table she drops

to the carpeted ground taking two steps forward

He continues sucking the juice from his plum

Unblinking eyes smile along with his darkened lips

 

He stands upright, pulling relaxed hips from the table’s edge

Breath catching in her throat, her hand grasps her neck

Pretty feet move forward of their own volition

His back turns to her as he saunters away, smug grin on chiseled face

(c)victoriaramsey@2016

 

 

 

 

Trust Me

 

“Don’t forget” she remarked quietly.

“I won’t” he replied somewhat stoically.

“You will” she mumbles to the floor.

“I won’t, trust me” he lies to her face.

 

Dressed she sits, patiently, ankles crossed.

Hands folded into her lap.

Clocks tic, tic, tic mimics the beating of her heart.

Breathing in and out, refusing to glance at her watch.

 

Collapsing into herself she reclines into the sofa.

Eyes cannot avoid the face of grandfather clock.

She kicks off her heels and runs a hand across her swollen ankles.

Tears stream from red puffy eyes, dripping into puddles on silk sheath.

 

Clothing returned to closet, she pulls warm flannel from the drawer.

Slips between cold cotton sheets, pulls her knees to her chest.

The door opens slowly; bare feet glide across the wooden floor.

She squeezes hers eyes closed and slows her breathing once again.

(c)VictoriaRamsey@2016

 

Reckless

Choking on the smoke of too many cigarettes
Strangled by the comfort they afford him
Yellow stained fingers on shaking hands
Poisonous fumes his only pleasure

She cannot help him, he refuses to understand
Killing himself slowly, puff by lonely puff
Isolation a prison of his own design
Locked inside, a price for reckless decisions
Made decades ago

A lifetime spent making choices with no
Understanding of consequences
Or payments that must be extracted
From mind and body in the distant future

Too late, interest too high on debts accumulated
Defeated and alone, he sits and waits for the final
Payment to be demanded from this broken man
Waiting moment to moment, puff to puff

(c)victoria ramsey @2016

Emotional Scars

Stomping Through my Mind

You are always stomping through my mind
Like a petulant child refusing to be ignored
I banish you to rooms I do not visit,
You refuse to stay there alone
Frustrating me

Have you thought that if you walked softly
Through my thoughts it would be easier
Perhaps I would allow you to visit occasionally
I may even smile at memories of the good times
Pleasing me

Memories of the good times are becoming faint
The unpleasant memories seem to dominate
Heavy footsteps echoing, marching, bringing to light
Little things I had overlooked, I should have noticed
Confusing me

(c)victoria ramsey@2016

Brother

A heart softened by hard lessons learned

Lifetime of struggles, nothing free in return

Searching for comfort, kind words, a helping hand,

Nothing as simple as a smile is earned

 

Hard work, a body crushed and rebuilt

A lifetime of pain, he suffers alone

He never complains, expects no sympathy

Takes his stripes quietly, believes he’s a man

 

He’ll give you the shirt off his back if you ask

Expects nothing in return, and you don’t disappoint

You have no conscience in using this broken man

As he struggles to survive, surviving each day that he can

 

He’s made mistakes, no doubt about it

Things he cannot change, they certainly haunt him

He’s paid dearly here on Earth

Questioned his faith and also his worth

 

He’s neglected himself at his body’s expense

Now he sits quietly seeking no recompense

Whiling his time until the reaper appears

Taking his stripes, never shedding a tear

(c)victoria ramsey@2016