The Time Of The Moon

A poem by Somdorrie

And there he was, standing silently alone.
His heart beating as he watched it fade away.
A light that had brightened his life,
sinking into the merciless clouds,
An inch, he clung to it, a drop, he held for life.
And there he was, standing greeting the dark.
Not knowing what comes with the time of the moon.

He stood with a heart torn to pieces,
wondering what comes after it fades.
He counted, yes he stood there counting.
Each number ripped a piece of him,
Each tick of the clock, more mocking then the last.
He stood, he watched, he counted, he braced himself.

An emptiness overcame him, love lost.
It has a way of gripping and shaking a heart.
There in the dark he felt his heart shaking,
Still he stood, wondering what comes next.
He was shattered, yes he was bruised.
He was broken, lonely and confused.
His sun had gone down, his hurt remained.
He stood firm, silently he stood there waiting.

He saw something in the distance, bright.
He watched, his bleeding heart wide open.
As the light grew brighter, it tugged at his heart.
He lifted his head, he held it high
He lifted his shoulders, he held his breath.
New beginnings, he found new light.
On the apex of hurt there was a gleamer of hope.
For it was the time, the time of the moon.

August 31 2018

Under Your Mask

A poem by Somdorrie

You chased me down, I felt special,
Made you sweat, made you prove yourself.
You didn't give up, I felt wanted,
I made you show you had eyes only for me.
You wooed me, you whispered to me, I felt needed,
Then I gave in, you had proven yourself worthy.

You enjoyed my smile, you liked my scent,
I felt lovely,
I flashed that smile just for you,
like our little secret.
You worshipped my body, loved those curved,
man I felt beautiful,
Wore those teasing clothes, flaunted my curves.
You were the one, the song in my heart.
A smile, a laugh, true love I thought.

Today you speak so loud, you look so mad,
I feel guilty.
I apologize not knowing for what.
You grab so roughly, you take without asking,
I feel so used.
Still I make myself look good for you.
You curse, you spit, you push, I feel unwanted,
But I don't walk away,
though you're proving yourself unworthy.

August 30 2018

Itch In My Sweater

A poem by Somdorrie

There's an itch in my sweater, dear granny
It's climbing up my arm, dear granny.
There is it moving up my back,
help me granny, it is spreading all over.

How can I help you, dear grandson,
when I have an itsh up my own sweater, dear grandson.
There is is tickling my back,
making me jump up and down.

It must be those ants you're standing on, dear Peter.
Move over to my side, dear Judy,
This side keeps my sweater snug and comfy, I confess.
But first, jump around and get those ants off your backs.

August 29 2018

Beauty In The Dirt

A poem by SomDorrie

There's dirt on my cheeks
There's dirt on my nails.
Dirt on my lashes and dirt on my toes.
There's water in the tub, mama calls my name.
With gentle hands and an assuring smile, mama cleans me up.
With a song on her lips and a tune I know so well.

I grew up fast, clouded by dirt on the road.
Shoes kicked it high, some found space in my soul.
Hands brushed it off, but some was etched deep under my skin.
Each year added a piece on the jagged little puzzle.

I grew, I learned, I stumbled and fell.
I sat there on the ground, her hands gripped my shoulders.
With an assuring nod, she pulled me out of the murk.
With a comforting pat, she dusted off my soul.

Now there's dirt on my hands, tears in my eyes.
There's dirt on the shovels, she's no longer by my side.
With a sorrowful stare, I watch her disappear.
They pile up the dirt, covering my beauty out of reach.
I never thought dirt could separate me from her face.
So with a memory so vivid, I see her smiling and singing her song.

August 28 2018

Soldier Lady

A poem by SomDorrie

Her name is mystery, her eyes are dark.
her coat is long, her destiny unknown,
her sorrow runs deep, her fears hidden,
this girl is a hero, yet no one can tell.

Her arms are inviting, her lips are sealed,
her chest is warm, her legs are steady,
her journey long, her path not clear,
this girl is a woman, slowly finding herself.

Who knows her struggle, who can see her tears?
Who notices when her clouds turn a shade of gray?
Who picks up the pieces of the heart that forever breaks?
Who paves her way and clears the dirt?
No one can, no one sees her struggle.
This woman is strong, she can keep it all in.

Her name is joy, her lips are set.
Her skirt is shorter, her eyes shine bright.
Her sorrow is getting lost among memories she let go
This girl is a hero, I gotta hand it to her.

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