Buildings scrap the airborne dust
The hillside charming each brick
And iron girders, shoveled neatly into
Concrete pits, opening this page of
Your mind to the stones of culture.
What can you think of and I will
Buy it for you? Is this my only
Breath. Think of the center that
Lived, nature the grasses and deer
That are now buried underneath the
Driveways.
Loss is the center of being that will
No more touch the living pines or
Wildflowers, only a plastic steering
Wheel or cash in my pocket. Iron my
Only sight on a quiet walk to the green
Path listening for what used to be called
the birds singing.
The Center
Julie Heckman
8/2/2015
Categories:
heckman, conflict, confusion,
Form: Free verse
Auburn hair cool to the touch in
Luscious moonlight I breath in
your scent.
Sweet oranges drip from your lips
Tasting fresh leaving my mouth
Hungry.
Plump painted hues in evening's sighs,
Your eyes are the blue of midnight,
Clustered softly against my breasts.
Your fragrance pure as wildflower honey.
You tend to the gardens and gather
Violets for me.
Your arms are jewels that hold me
As our pulse beats together as one.
Queens and virgins of heaven will
Will always love your sacred ways.
Midnight Pearl Contest
Julie Heckman
Categories:
heckman, love,
Form: Free verse
Under mountains of coal and ash
two, cold, porcelain figurines withstand
the years, as they grind away slowly
their lines and composition turning
to dust.
I was the culprit, tearing down the
house you built, now a stranger to the
pillars of your sunlight laughter
Embarrassed I bow with only a huge
gap I created...lifeless with no
interiors… only regret.
I knew you when there was only a small
one bedroom apartment…no monuments
to your name…when you were nervous
and alone. I loved you with my blinded
heart, at risk with too many intimate scars…
and now with memories and
no words ever spoken.
© Julia Heckman 2011
Categories:
heckman, love,
Form: Free verse
Listening is a
furtive tool to enrich life.
Hearing people speak
offers us knowledge freely,
and lets us know others.
Listening is hard.
We desire to be heard,
more than to listen.
Respect is key for hearing
pay attention now.
Bag of Tricks
Julie Heckman
Categories:
heckman, caregiving
Form: Tanka
The vast caribbean forest is beautiful
while parrots sail the aqua sea,
and claw into the jungles, rich and ripe,
to ravage the orange mango trees.
Wet from the rain, together they preen
stopping to keep their lovers clean.
A concert of beauty, red, yellow and green,
and sometime pushy, raucous and mean.
Who will consoles us, as we walk among
men with ashened eyes terrorizing nature?
Men who exploits innocent animals creating
grief without a vision of a beautiful future?
When can we soar the skies with you
parrots among the ocean palms?
From streams of time and space we too
will fly with splender and calm.
If I were an animal what would I be?
Julie Heckman
Categories:
heckman, pets
Form: Rhyme