recycled words

A dear friend has begun re-posting her old poetry ... 
and has inspired me to air out some old thoughts of mine as well.
You may recognize these from previous posts ... 

life on the wing
wild and free
like a paper plane
rapid, angular
flight pattern
winding down
concentric circles
into a parachute fall.

I crave change. 
The following words come to mind:
Restless.  Wanderlust.  Gypsy.
A hitch-hiker with a helium taxi.
Materialism left in a cardboard box,
In a roadside bin marked Donation.
I will keep the essential:
You, naturally.
And relocate.
recycled words
I just wanted to say - something.
I'm not sure what
I open my mouth and find
I can't articulate
I'd like to reinvent
Recycled words  
How naturally, after all these years, we forget to speak -
And compose cryptic lyrics to avoid feeling disconnected.
Are we too evasive, hidden inside these deep, deceitful shells?
I am filled with discarded conversations,
Yet they think I am resilient - or forgetful.
Ironic, isn't it?
I can hardly breathe from the weight of what I recall -
But you miss the point so easily,
And we become disillusioned. 

words expound
and clarify -
they scatter
whenever i
to explain you.  

don't stand so close to me
i might leave
it'd be a shame to lose you again.
isn't silence enough
i know the words that should go unsaid.
draw a line in the dirt
to contain me
i won't see it till i'm on the other side.
think of self-preservation
not me
you will find nothing like that here.

lay aside these preconceived ideas
of who you are
as if we had never met
or sat in silence
speaking in the dark
i thought you were someone else
and i based myself
off the impression
i had of you
like suffocating in an empty room
i have been unrecognized
and so have you 
... do you mind if we begin again? 

i can't recall
what was said
and what was left between these lines
and maybe time
is all it takes
to forget the words, the look, the face
i can't
perhaps you
could find the grace
to listen to my disclosure
forgive me if
i repeat myself
but i must add one last thought:
i'm sorry.

Which is inherently ambiguous -
Mother earth or mankind?
Or one after the other, in turn.
A nebulous existence.
Indistinct.  Perlexing.  Obtuse.
We wake and wonder
At the disparity of a thing called life
Then immerse ourselves
In routine.

a : a rhythmic sequence or flow of sounds in language
b : the beat, time, or measure of rhythmical motion or activity  
If you want to write, write! he says.
It should be so simple,
But I need solitude to write.
A pervasive silence in which to hear
The cadence of the words,
Spoken aloud as they are created:
Inflection, tone, rhythm - pause.

I feel my concentration divided -
Distributed like so many pages of a book.


the quality or state of being alone or remote from society 
b: a lonely place (as a desert) 


  1. Such good poetry... I particularly like the "I feel my concentration divided - Distributed like so many pages of a book."
    That's a brilliant sentence!
    Thanks for sharing.

  2. "eventually"
    are my favorite....

    and yes, the line that Gitte complimented is ....just. perfect. :)

  3. Great stuff, Lauren! I have no witless sarcasm to share at all.
    This is just really good stuff. Well, okay that was witless but not sarcastic. :)

  4. oh my GOSH.
    i think "disparity" and "cadence" are amazing. "eventually" is fabulous, also.

    i hope you will combine all of these...and maybe put them in a book one day? either way, you were made to be a writer.


( hippies always welcome )