Love to no avail
like a salmon that
swims upstream
seeking eternity
Ever chasing
the golden ring
of life to
self-sustain
Leaping hurdles
and barriers
along the way
to nirvana
A journey that
never ends for
even once found
is often lost
–Victoria Emmons © 2014
Two by two
They enter the flow
Of oil and fumes
And bright red glow
At dawn’s fair light
They merge and bump
Until they retire
As food for the dump
–Victoria Emmons © 2014
Reach for your face
And you vanish
Into blank air
Your eyes
Black holes
Void of expression
Or feeling
What happened
To the crystal blue
The soft sweet love
That once radiated
Beneath detailed
lashes of expectation
And anticipation
–Victoria Emmons © 2012
The bowl is empty
No longer filled
Four kinds of chips
Nothing but crumbs
Guacamole with spice
A hint of adventure
Is now all consumed
Along with the laughter
Guitar music plays
Yet no real strings
Save for the bus boy
Who changes CDs
People chatter at the bar
Occupy the soft leather
That coaxes them in
at Happy Hour prices
A man with a smart phone
Awaits a pretty girl
To occupy his time
With sweet perfume
The music plays on
Pretends to be Spain
Portugal or France
Some other place
Ceviche arrives
As a trainee
Sets down a plate
On the covered table
A concierge eyes
The tiny shrimp
To assure they show
Their finest face
The bar is occupied
Lonely souls looking
For conversation and
A hint of worthiness
–Victoria Emmons © 2014
In the middle ring
The oldest of the circular
Bands of time that surround
My life in the kitchen
Lies the center of my world
Lively areas encircle me
Hug the very middle in a
Friendly way that feels calm
And loving, comfortable
Yet in need of a dust mop
Yellow fur balls float
In mid-step on a staircase
Filled with 20 years of
Family ups and downs
To nowhere and everywhere
The middle ring houses
Sizzling salmon or steak
Teacups for a visitor
Books packed with recipes
A loyal sleeping dog
A door swings open to
Tables and chairs awaiting
A friend or someone else
Who cares enough to listen
To my pounding heart
Loud voices fill the next room
Strangers in a digital frame
Tell me to swallow a pill
To cure my heartbreak or
Headache or incontinence
Bottles beckon in a dance
Of red and white and brown
Along the well-stocked bar
An adjoining ring of hope
To splash away worries
Beyond the walls lie the newest
Of the circles, those that tell
A story of love, nature and loss
Under an umbrella of shade
That covers my acre of life
Fear prevents me from scaling
The walls to the outer rings
Unable to risk failure
Or satisfaction,
Worse yet, a grand success
Safety is in the middle ring
Protection under glass
My soul divided must be scorned
Shame hidden deep within
Paralyzes me with laughter
Beg you, come out and play
They always try to coax
Knowing I will refuse
In favor of the inner prison
Where I must live to thrive
–Victoria Emmons, © 2014
Reach for the trigger
Save her from harm
Holster unbuckled
Sound the alarm
Mischief and pleasure
Too many years
Changed her demeanor
Causing the tears
How to override
Fate such as this
Once we were friends
Sharing such bliss
Now she is colder
Ice in her veins
Blame her disease state
Slapping the chains
Tight around her wrists
Cops everywhere
The flashing red lights
People who stare
This sad girl in need
Cries for rescue
Wants love in her life
As we all do
No crime has happened
As it appears
Why do they take her
Away for two years
Reprogram her days
And sleepless nights
Remove the cocaine
Assure no flights
New thoughts emerge
Bright meanings land
She’ll soon discover
The shifting sand
–Victoria Emmons, © 2014
Rescue me, mon ami,
from the debris of life
save me from the
threads that weave
my heart to yours
I need saving now and then
my head is tired and
my body aches for you
to save me some day
on your white horse
I’m not your Fairy Godmother
flying in and out of your life
to save you from yourself
I carry no magic wand
to make it all better
I can only offer one gift
my eternal love for you
wretched soul that you are
so rescue me, mon amour,
save me from myself
–by Victoria Emmons, © 2014
I will not be ruled by my cat. No more is he allowed to curl up in the warmth of my lap. No longer is he invited to live under my roof. I brought him home five years ago when he only seven weeks old. The cute, little champagne kitten stood out from the rest of the litter in the cage that day. I only needed one kitten. That’s all. But the volunteer with the pet shelter convinced me I should have a pair. This kitten would need a playmate, she advised.
I have had cats for over half a century. I know all about cats. Or so I thought. I did know the volunteer’s suggestion had merit. Kittens like to play with one another, especially when I am off at work and they would be otherwise all alone. Having a playmate helps keep them from climbing curtains, scratching furniture and other untoward behavior.
Purple urchins tossed
Into seaweed mountains
Crushed by a wave
Sandy coins washed
Ashore under driftwood
Sculpted by the sea
Shards of blue porcelain
Chiseled over time
Piled by change
Castles of sea foam
Dance in ocean meadows
Vanquished by wind
Nature unleashed
Through powers unknown
So who sculpted me?
–Victoria Emmons, © 2014
How much is enough
To show her you care
How many times
must you weep
How much is enough
For a father to say
He loves his child
More than life itself
How much is enough
For a daughter to hear
That her papa is grieving
Her loss from his world
How much is enough
To tell her you love her
And kiss her brow
As tears wet her cheek
How much is enough
To say you regret
The pain and the prison
That one moment caused
How much is enough
For peace to restore
And pride to erase
The memory of a face
–Victoria Emmons, © 2014
La Vue de rue Sleidan 