Tag: poetry

musician, poetry, writer, writing

Sun

Kelly Rogers

Glory be to the sun of a new day, a fresh start through the obstacles that darkened our way.

Awake with your confidence.

Awake with your vim.

Fill your cup with fortitude to the brim.

Glory be to the sun that has called us this morn, a messenger proclaiming we are reborn.

poetry, writer, writing

Saturday at the Blue Owl

Kelly Rogers

I came here to talk about love and those broken years we stayed apart.

We were sisters back then, giggling over two cups of coffee.

Now we are strangers to our newfound intricacies,

staring into the frothy abyss.

I want to tell you about the times I thought of calling you.

Could my words be a salve on our fracture?

A bandage between our past and future?

We are silent for a moment as the girl places a malcontent order,

full of demands, and then regrets over what she did not add to her latte.

I am full of the empty space you left in my heart those years ago.

Our bond was born from the tragedy of September 11.

You knew what to say to me as if we had been childhood friends.

You picked me up off the floor as I wept over a broken marriage.

You cheered me on as I returned to fix it.

You rushed to my aid as I had three kids.

I tried to fill your heart with the things it might be missing.

Then all that business about nothing ground us to dust.

And our friendship became the tragedy,

replacing the one from which our sisterhood was born.

Now here we sit on an overstuffed couch, a fine mist of milk in the air,

surrounded by people in search of Saturday’s buzz.

I came here to talk about love. I came here to love you again.

poetry, writer, writing

winter soul

Kelly Rogers

I am the last piece of tinsel clinging to the fir that’s about to return to the earth

I am the first bud fighting activation by the sunshine I know is forgetting the last snow

I am the shade, the single cloud, the arch of a tree, providing respite from the dry heat

I am the first leave to turn on the branch and the last to fall, stretching on the way down towards peace on frosted ground

I am the first crystal to form in the sky, willingly joining other crystals, ready to find my place in a snow angel

I am a winter soul, an arctic fox, a counter of stars under the frigid night sky

musician

Tired

Kelly Rogers

When you are the kind of tired sleep won’t fix

And your second hand is stuck but it still ticks

When you’ve lost your bookmark in a breeze

And you need a prayer after life has brought you to your knees

When you try to drive forward while in park

And you are in a story that has no discernible arc

Look up to the sky, you are kissed by the sun

Look down at your feet where two puppies run

You are here now, a gift, tired or not

Breathe it in, breathe it out, give it all you’ve got

musician

Written Words

Kelly Rogers

I read to taste life twice.

I write to channel imagination’s vice.

The words they flow, and stories they sew, leaving me in the grips of night.

As the pages by wind turn

Off the paper, love creates a burn

The hero becomes a villain while the air, bone-chilling, sends a shiver to the edge of the spine

From beginning to end

The chapters maliciously mend

Any trace of a shred, of who I was before bed, and wake me new in the morn.

musician

Winter’s Wind

Kelly Rogers

A thousand black-winged dots above the horizon

Cut through the clouds

On an icicle blowing wind

Forming glass of water, nature’s sculpture

Shall they reach the sun above five more horizons?

Or shall they fall into the winter of the soul ?

Their dark wings collapsing in peace

For respite in the silence minus the whistle of that very same wind

poetry, writer, writing

It Cannot

Kelly Rogers

It cannot take the glow of Spring’s first warm light on my winter skin.

It cannot tilt my heart on the axis it spins.

It cannot lay claim to the adventures of my mind.

It, therefore, will not win.

It will lay bare our faults and our fears.

It has no soul. About nothing it cares.

It will ravage the old and young the same.

It will expose our mistakes and immortal shame.

And when it’s darkness towers over us, and a last stand remains,

Rush boldly we will, shedding its chains.

It cannot, it will not, it should not transpire,

A dimming of our humanity’s fire.

It cannot, it will not, it should not conspire,

For we are glass blown into steal, forged from this same fire.

musician, poetry, writer, writing

Today

Kelly Rogers

I can still feel the sun’s heat on my face,

even when fear wrestles with grace.

I can still see love in another’s eyes,

while facing the darkness of demise.

I can still water a flowering bud,

as my emotions get swept away by the flood.

And I can still believe today will be tomorrow,

when my heart mends from subsuming sorrow.