because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse


consider this
the heartbeat of twenty-
seven stolen seconds, dead

reckonings in
bitter January birth-
pangs; consider

this the end
of beginnings, letters
upside down

on an unfinished
page written by one
who breathes the last

gypsied breath
of penance wearing
chipped midnight

on her toes, walks
the iron-dark canals
like some soulless

wild thing, all the while dis-
once upon a

time, i knew
how to write
love songs.


30 responses

  1. I have been covered in chipped midnight. If you were a player on the streets of Miami for three decades, it was unavoidable.

    January 3, 2012 at 7:26 am

  2. Reflective and sad…

    January 3, 2012 at 9:25 am

  3. Elegant and sad. I feel this personally.

    January 3, 2012 at 12:30 pm

    • glad this found some resonance with you, though i hope your start to the new year is not half so dark.
      peace, and light,

      January 4, 2012 at 1:13 pm

  4. Reflective and lovely!

    January 3, 2012 at 2:36 pm

  5. The queen of metaphors, you hit another homerun in my book once more πŸ™‚ Have a blessed new year!

    January 3, 2012 at 4:43 pm

    • thanks, dear; you are too kind! may this new year be filled with light for you as well!

      January 4, 2012 at 1:05 pm

  6. and you know…i have found that you can re-learn how to write them…love the word play joanna

    January 3, 2012 at 5:25 pm

    • i hope you’re right, brian… smiles…

      January 4, 2012 at 1:06 pm

  7. Good one.

    January 3, 2012 at 7:14 pm

  8. Megaphoric! I adored the chips and gypsied breath. Your poem reminded me in the best way of a Carla Bruni song, La derniere minute — .

    January 3, 2012 at 7:45 pm

    • you know, i adore Carla Bruni, although i don’t know but about three words of French & have to look up a translation for every line… but thank you; high praise indeed!

      January 4, 2012 at 1:08 pm

  9. A ghostly look at the scorned lover, to be sure. We are all wanderers in that area, set adrift from time to time…we can teach and learn all we will, but we always seem to forget when the trauma rolls around again. Lovely poem, Joanna, with some fantastic use of language.

    January 3, 2012 at 7:54 pm

    • thanks, Chris. πŸ™‚

      January 4, 2012 at 1:10 pm

  10. Your finish brings it all home perfectly! Love the play with the font to better the impact, much like a whisper of what used to be.

    January 3, 2012 at 8:16 pm

  11. No longer trusting, sad indeed but after a rant or ten such as these things tend to come around.

    January 3, 2012 at 9:07 pm

  12. the word bar

    so well written for such a sad and reflective topic.. you truly are a wonderful writer..

    January 3, 2012 at 9:33 pm

    • lynne, you are so sweet. always brings a smile to see you’ve dropped by. πŸ™‚

      January 4, 2012 at 1:11 pm

  13. There’s a wonderful delicacy to your writing. I could feel that soulless, wild thing… brutal.

    January 3, 2012 at 10:50 pm

  14. Anonymous

    This took my breath away. Haunting piece.

    January 4, 2012 at 11:22 am

  15. thank you, all of you, for your sincere comments. they mean a lot to me, truly. hope everyone’s year is starting off the way they would wish…


    January 4, 2012 at 1:14 pm

  16. Wow – I love this! Great line breaks, and love the ‘chipped midnight/ on her toes’ and the closing lines. Very cool!

    January 4, 2012 at 11:07 pm

    • gracias! πŸ™‚

      January 10, 2012 at 10:01 am

  17. Powerful lyrical economy.. very much enjoyed.

    January 5, 2012 at 9:18 am

  18. I feel the chill of winter and loss in this piece. So well written. I love these lines:
    “gypsied breath
    of penance wearing
    chipped midnight
    on her toes”

    January 5, 2012 at 4:15 pm

  19. Another great poem. You have a great voice, telling enough to make it interesting, leaving enough to the reader’s imagination, by giving us the details without the big picture

    January 9, 2012 at 10:59 am

    • thanks as ever, Ray. that’s kinda exactly what i was going for. πŸ™‚

      January 10, 2012 at 10:00 am

  20. So sombre, yet beautiful. I really like this. πŸ™‚

    January 10, 2012 at 10:17 am

  21. Blogs reading mood today … as usual I love your poems, it’s just my muse has been gone for quite some time and I can’t even find appropriate words to honor the talent of others, but one thing is sure, your place it’s always full of talent … Happy Sunday!

    January 29, 2012 at 6:45 am

    • so nice to hear from you, as always. you’re such a sweetheart, Blaga. i gotta get over to check out what you’ve been up to. sometimes muse-hunting can be as inspirational as having one on your shoulder… πŸ™‚

      February 1, 2012 at 2:55 pm


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