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Stood Up

You did not come
That early winter evening
We had planned to meet
In the old pub with the big fire
Your prescence marked by
Empty
Red wine glasses
Which wore my lipstick
Burning like regret in the firelight.
You did not come

You did not love me
That blue blazing afternoon
We planned to meet
At the seaside
Where the summer breeze kissed
Your chair in the cafe which stood
Empty
Egging on the skipping pavement leaves
That were my entertainment.
You did not love me

You did not come
That fallen fall morning
We had planned to meet
At the small airport outside the city
Your absence marked by the
Empty
Seat beside me on the

Children of Innocence

Here where our soft, mad children run
Under the omen of the dying sun
In streets like dried up rivers
In this dry land
Concrete playing fields of dust and sand
They carry rifles in their hand
At enemy ghosts they take their aim
Toying with the grown-ups' game
Taught the hatred, taut with shame
Playing blocks in a greater scheme
But they're innocent when they dream

Innocent when they dream

©1992 – Revised 2010 Sarah Donnelly

The Dream CatcherSucking dreams through plastic straws
Burning bridges and slamming doors
There is no whirlwind of applause
Only breaking down and breaking laws
And a cracked mirror to reflect your flaws

The day the dreamcatcher came
To reignite your failing flame

Tossing coins into gambling machines
Like a wishing well for futile dreams
Taking life and limits to extremes
Flowing chastisements affect ebbing esteems
And now the rights are wrongs, or so it seems

The day the dreamcatcher knew
That all you wanted was a better you

Looking back at mistakes that were made
Those stupid rules that you never obeyed
A hundred thousand welcomes overstayed
And all the

Cliff at the End of the World

Pilgrims journey for days on end
Gravel paths wind and then they bend
Up the hill they make their long ascent
They go there to pray & to repent

On the cliff at the edge of the World

Poets dream of it by candlelight
Scribbling thoughts into the dark night
It makes them feel understood and free
As they drop their words into it's sea

At the cliff at the edge of the World

It is here where Muses congregate
To write upon it's enchanted slate
In this magical and holy place
You can glean the mirror of God's face

At the cliff at the edge of the World

©2010 Sarah Donnelly

http://www.quantumscribble.com/wp3/index.php/the-cliff-at-th

Urban Jailbreak

The skyscrapers grumble with the Monday morning blues
The overworked elevators drone up-and-down in twos
The man in the pale grey suit enters unseen
But his mind moves on the colours of a better dream

The traffic jams screech like a heavy metal band
Today's headlines choke in black on the newsstand
The grey man slumps in his box cubicle jail
And slits open with a knife the early morning mail

At home his wife applies her make-up thick as glue
Her cheeks as pink as icing and her eyes caked blue
She writes the man a message on a notepad cover
Pulls shut the front door and goes to meet her lover

The man is strumming Johnny Cash on a s

Out to Dry

You called all the shots
You pulled all your punches
A tyrant, the controlling kind
Who no one would defy
And when you left me behind

You hung me out to dry

You crossed all the lines
You broke all their rules
A rebel and an antihero
On whom no one could rely
You left me here at ground zero

And hung me out to dry

You burnt all of your bridges
You forgot to count your blessings
You took the best of me for granted
My love was a constant supply
You were all I ever wanted

But you hung me out to dry

You weathered all the storms
You sailed the seven seas
Each time you said I'll see you soon
Each time I asked you why
Then with th

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The Red Road

by *Quantum-Poet, Aug 2, 2010, 2:09:31 AM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Concrete Poetry

There is a Red Road
That stretches from Cape Town to the Elysium Fields
And on that road there is a pit stop at Robben Island
To a prisoner's cell, prisoner 46664
Where the heart of a hero
Was once born

There is a Red Road
That runs from Berlin to Hades
And on the road there is a pit stop at the Biederitz River
Where the brutal ashes of a man named Adolf
Drift away in the currents
Endlessly

There is a Red Road
That lies between Poland to Zion
And on that road there is a pit stop at Auschwitz
Where the spirits of the dead
Still gather at the Death Wall
To remember

There are a million pit stops to be made
On the myriad paths of the interwoven labyrinths
That bind us together and tear us apart
Warning you and me of the potholes & pitfalls
On the Red Road that is the World
Telling us in a whisper "Don't forget it"
Telling us in a prayer "Don't repeat it"

©2010 Sarah Donnelly