Wishing You Were Here

Shadows,
always shadows,
howling round my ear.
Sorrows,
always sorrows,
my heart doesn’t want to hear.
Sadness,
always sadness,
comes a solitary tear.
~ ~ ~
Wish you were here.
Wish you were here.
~ ~ ~
Ancient,
I’m so ancient,
half a century of grief.
Timeworn,
ever timeworn,
difficult to find relief.
~ ~ ~
Wish you were here.
Wish you were here.
~ ~ ~
Loves,
so many gone;
echoing trails of my lost.
Lost,
stretching haunted years,
no way to count the cost.
~ ~ ~
Wish you were here.
Wish you were here.

(C) 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

Gone

In memory’s lash I saw you flash
through yesterday’s deep musings.
The winds we changed have rearranged
our years; and youth’s enthusings.
~ ~ ~
A sorrow cast in the depths of the past,
in a canyon’s echoed hollow.
Our holy ground without a sound,
taught both of us to follow.
~ ~ ~
Though dear the fire of sweet desire,
and ne’er our love could sever;
yet a shadow lies beyond youth’s skies;
some weeping lasts forever.

(C) 1999 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

Seasons of Regret

The scalding heat and steaming torch
of dry ice seared so deep inside
my youthful innocence that died
in seasons of regret.
~ ~ ~
The first to move my spirit warm,
to hold me gently, safe from harm,
left dry iced hissing burning
screaming seasons of regret.
~ ~ ~
A winter with no hope of spring,
to ever turn back beckoning.
Thick scars hold prisoner my heart
with seasons of regret.
~ ~ ~
For I love him even yet.

(C) 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

Pirouette

Lost in the
shimmering mirage
of her past, like reflection of
moonlight on water, lies the fragrant
secrets of the flights she once winged instinctively.
Pivoting effortlessly, every muscle anticipating its next
move. A hummingbird’s dance; raw hunger
boldly aflame, emotions wild and
vividly intense.
~
Now alone,
fastened motionless to the floor,
she has become a silhouette against a curtain
stirring gently in a warm midnight current. Every pore still
knows, longs for the pirouette, and yet, each neuron
comprehends that she can no longer spin in that
passionate upstream surge, she will
no longer leap the waterfalls.
~
Shivering, she suddenly
knows how the
salmon feel
once they have attained
the river-head, and lie sinking, dying
in their birth waters, helpless
beneath the merciless
night sky.

(C) 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

Drifting

Out on Elliott Bay we
Watch an early morning ferry
Gliding lazily in, whitecaps in its wake;
Fog drifting dreamily over the choppy grey water.
~ ~ ~
Fragrant cups of steaming cappuccino between our chilly hands
On the third floor Seattle Public Market cafe as a hungry
Sea gull swoops past the windows again - again,
Crying, hoping for handouts it wheels for,
Diving - easily catching
Each in mid-air.
~ ~ ~
I remember
We had coffee here
Together half a lifetime ago
Catching each other tenderly in
The midst of a wind storm of living.
~ ~ ~
Just as, years before that, we had
Soda here side by side when
We both held such youth
In our entwined hands,
That we believed
We knew what
Sorrow
Was.

(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

Of Dreams

And in the stillness
Of this silvered winter night
~ ~ ~
I put my thundering bird into her bed of feeling
Her bill tucked softly beneath her wings
Nestled in her feathered nest
High in the fir of her yearning
And told her rapid heartbeat to slow
While in dreams she flies to another shore
~ ~ ~
To soar over foreign waters reeling
While a wild wind-current under her brings
Her a new night’s journey, a different rest
For in a strange enchanted land could be burning
Magical fires, and she might glimpse, I know
What she’s been ever longing for

(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

Youth Was

(C) 1997 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

He Cries

He cries
Each time I walk the bitter halls,
And find him held within those walls.
His eyes gone dim still see my face,
He knows my voice, and my embrace...
He cries.
~ ~ ~
His strength
I knew all of my living's years;
In all that time he shed no tears.
My father sturdy as a stone
Has tender grown, has tender grown;
Lost strength.
~ ~ ~
His time
Kaleidoscoped into my hand;
Weeks trickling slowly as the sand;
Aware of all, remembering some;
So precious have his days become ...
His time ...

(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

Little Danielle

You were a dark molasses ice-cream cone!
~ ~ ~
Chocolate fudge baked warm and shiny;
rounded and glossy as a perfectly waxed apple
bouncing in and out of the tub.
Two year old radiant princess
twirling in giggles,
with soap bubbles sticking to your
silky brown sugar skin like fancy vanilla icing.
~ ~ ~
Slick and slippery, you
leaped in and out, over the smooth edge
landing in the water on your tummy
laughing at the splashes.
Eyes like chocolate-covered cherries
with a sparkle in the center.
Tiny pearls of teeth beaming!
~ ~ ~
We stood in the doorway;
never mind the mess;
just drinking in your joy!
~ ~ ~
Oh, Danielle, you were
beautiful!
A smile to keep forever.

A Life Defined

Precious To Me

Precious to me
Three young occupants
Of the big back bedroom -
Something so sweet
In the innocence there.
~ ~ ~
Their room reflects my love for them
With Christmas lights year round,
Toy parrots hanging from I.V. poles,
And feeding tubes tied up with ribbons;
Music boxes, cheerful posters saying
"Real love begins where
Nothing is expected in return", and
"All my tomorrows depend upon your love!"
~ ~ ~
Misty at five and a half
Giggling in delight
When I rock her long, limp body
Back and forth in her hospital crib!
A priceless gift, her sole response to me!
Lovely black braided hair, framing
Dark flashing eyes that do not see.
What her beautiful smile does to me!
~ ~ ~
Joshua two and a half
Bubbling with personality -
So deeply happy on his good days.
Masses of chestnut curls, gorgeous
Long-lashed brown eyes, wide-mouthed smiles!
~ ~ ~
So aware of me - even without the use
Of his body or mouth, he talks to me.
He does such a good job communicating
Without language!
~ ~ ~
Zachary one and a half
Showing all four teeth
Widely in broad smiles
At every touch to his face -
Silky black hair; delicate, expressive mouth;
Amazing, how content he is
All day and all night!
~ ~ ~
Sight, hearing and intelligence
Aren't required, to feel happiness!
And what joy he gives us, just by
Being here to cuddle!
~ ~ ~
Precious to me
The three
Being wheeled
To that big back bedroom.

(C) 1984 Rosemary J. Gwaltney

Mammogram

Brisk impersonal hands
adjust the bared breast between
ice cold metal plates; experienced and
bored as a downtown lunch-hour pizza baker
flipping dough back and forth
on a breadboard.
~ ~ ~
Hydraulic force
squeezes plates
the tightly compressed
bosom stunned and powerless.
~ ~ ~
Invisible light peers into the vault
searching with spotlights for
any mutant cell invasion;
taking pictures.
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
“You can breathe now.”
~ ~ ~
What makes you think so?

(C) 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney

Alodia Sings

Alodia sings a sadder song
these days than the purest liquid tones

which poured from her firm rosy upturned mouth in years
long past; she has known honeyed passions, her mammilla
rejoicing against his chest in sweet caresses, nestled
alongside his tongue, brushing gently across
his inner thigh. She has fed her
babies in peace

and gentleness, O gentleness

the snuggling them cozy and warm in the rocking
chair; in their bed secure. She yet can feel the magnetic era
when young men fastened their eyes on her and couldn’t pull
away. Alodia still remembers her earliest days of level plains;
of seeds and hopes; swelling seasons of growing. She has
spent decades raised proud and honored against life’s
gravity, but finds herself now drooping
a bit with age.

Bitter
harvest
time is nigh.

Suddenly cold winds

have turned savagely upon her
howling their solitary threats of a
violent winter she sings a sadder
song these days against a
darkened

sky.

Lydia, her

twin sits quietly beside
her in solemn sympathy.
A friend for life, she has no
song tonight.  No sweet
milked tears fall any
more, and her
head hangs
in the
sorrow
dark and deep

within her eye. Lydia sighs
for her and they share the same
porch swing silently, resting on a
soft cushion; two aging sisters,
as the cool mist creeps
over the

meadow.

Into an
autumn chill,

Alodia quietly sings
a slow and hollow

mournful
song.

(C) 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney

Hidden Tide

Her face
reminds her now of
the sea from an eagle’s view;
time’s winds rippling in these steady
waves, all so new. Minuscule lines wrinkling
secretly along her skin, like a hidden
tide relentlessly ever
rolling in...

(C) 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All rights reserved.

mountainrecluse@yahoo.com

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