Mail is welcome.
gryffyn@there.net | index of journals | home
I've decided to keep an
ongoing diary/journal online. This is for all my (wired) friends back in
Indiana that I don't write enough, and for anyone who really wants to get
to know me better. If you're not sure who I'm talking about here, you may
find more info under Who's who.
As with
the "selected" journal, I'm not putting up anything overly personal
up here, so quit skimming for the juicy bits and check out my erotic poetry instead.
Isabelle Allende Blues
I can't bear this sadness
I know now
Why the rain cries down
Skies shaking like sobs
A couple speaks
in Spanish, he sits
shoulders dejected
as she stand near
leaning into him
speaking softly
comforting, discussing
their desperate situation.
Ealier I'd told them
they couldn't afford
a nice rental. Not
in a safe area, not
somewhere nice.
It's my job
homefinder
newsbreaker.
Winds wail
I look away,
try to read.
Oh, Isabelle Allende
your vibrant prose
underscores
the pain you
bring to life on your
pages. I can't stand
your compassionate
illustrations of sorrow.
That last chapter read
like a poem on murder
recited in the quiet voice
of the stunned mother.
So sad my heart breaks
quietly, snapping with a thud
somewhere inside.
I give a quarter to an old man
and I watch him walk away
leaning heavily on his cane.
The rain weeps down
a tear-stained wall
between worlds.
Heather Shaw
May 29 & 30, 1998