A tiny scream
Inside my head
Awakens me
From my bed
What thought say I
To none but me
What woes are there
Or dreams to be
What lies within
My gentle skin
What thoughts persist
When light begins
And thus is born
A year of pain
Of restless nights
Am I insane
–Victoria Emmons, © 2012
Is enough
Two too many
To find a date
To wait and wait
For him to state
His intentions
One lonely ticket
Two far gone
To hear a sound
Of my past life
With my old man
His favorite song
One is okay
Not two or three
Or even four
Just one
One lonely life
To hear the score
Of violins and
Saxophone dreams
A piano note or two
Blend the cacophony
Of life together
With a single tune
–Victoria Emmons, © 2013
Den of friends
Din of chatter
Ding of dinner
Gather and just be
Gather together
With each other
Or alone
In the din
Of joyous noise
Happy sounds
Lonely lives
Weary and wise
–Victoria Emmons, 2013
I am the sole guest
At my dinner table
No one to please
Save my own palate
The hour is late
As work takes over
On this holiday week
With no one to share
A Roomful of Blues
Plays Solid Jam
Awakening my soul
Soul of another kind
I scour cookbooks
For fresh recipes
Savor Gouda and gherkins
With a vodka chase
My kitchen dance begins
10 o’clock piano jazz
And smooth lyrics
To hide my fears
Let me love you, baby
He repeats throughout
A tune that will fade
As love fades, too, after a while
Butter sizzles in the pan
Hot pools of taste
Wait for the main dish
Washed and patted dry
Flour encases the fillets
Protects them from harm
Wish it were so easy
To protect me, too
Wrapped in flour
Browned and moist
Seasoned well over time
Sole Meunière survives
–Victoria Emmons, Copyright 2014
The doorbell never rings
As expected this Monday night
The steak is never grilled
Nor the wine poured
Baked potatoes are hot
Ready to devour with butter
And peas with lemon juice
Without the special guest
Anticipation nonetheless
Expectation and longing
Planning for days and
Preparation complete
Dress is selected
Pressed at the seams
Lipstick in place
Bouquet in a vase
The wait is endless
Count seconds on the clock
A Monday night promise
Tuesday morning tears
Take it away
My every breath
Never to return
You gave me life
Deepest hope
Beautiful laughter
Those words you sent
In a tiny box
Magnified our love
We were sixteen
Or so it felt
For a while
The many years
Months, days
And hours
Became nothing
More than minutes
Counting morphine
–Victoria Emmons ©2011
Prepare for poetry.
Prepare for change.
Think more.
Make time for cursive writing.
Ignore Yahoo mail.
Get nails done.
Get hair done.
Believe in something.
Believe in anything.
Why believe?
Why not?
My head aches.
Blood is everywhere.
I am bleeding.
I am hurting.
I am bewildered.
I am emboldened.
Do not eat.
Do not drink.
Do not answer the phone.
Do not answer email.
Do not text.
Fast.
Lose weight.
Lose faith.
Lose teeth.
Lose friends.
Lose life.
Then gain.
Gain faith in humankind.
Gain friends.
Gain life.
But do not gain weight.
Gain gravitas.
Three blue fives
Reconcile time
For the morning
Down the stairs
Follow green glow
To the kitchen
Red embers
Lighten the room
Draw me near
In the darkness
Inspire me to
Press new words
Cats follow
Interrupt thought
Cries of need
Feed the hungry
To satisfy
And fulfill
Flash of red
Dull warning
Signals light
Renew thought
An addiction
To e-mail
–Victoria Emmons, 2009
Race to find
Lost champions
Displaced colleagues
Beloved coaches
Forlorn friends
From an era gone by
Ring the sound
Of glory for the team
Ring the sound
Of glory to learn
The prize is not
The ring at all
The prize is you, my friend
The friend who loves you
Who cheers the champion
And finds the colleagues
Mourns the era gone by
Melts away 50 years
Holds the class as one
Even across country
–Victoria Emmons, 2014
(Inspired by the Robert E. Lee High School Class of 1968 whose track team won the State Cross Country Championship, never got the recognition it deserved until 2014 when a reunion was organized by fellow classmates and a champion ring was given to each member of the team.)
He followed me home tonight
After dinner at the club
I wasn’t sure he’d show up
At dinner, I mean
The table was set for two
And the waiter asked
“Expecting someone, Ma’am?”
To which I replied my usual
I am only one, you see
Just me and my iPad
To talk to one another
Over duck and Chardonnay
The second set of forks
Whisked from the table
Along with a black napkin
So as not to confound
I know I am one and not two
Know that the distance between
Me and you is vast and cold
That you are really gone
Yet you arrive with the salad
Of tomatoes and mozzarella
Your sound alerts me long
Before I see you fly by
So free and easy you are
No pain or wretched love
Just swirling and gliding
Over my plate to say hi
La Vue de rue Sleidan 