Broken And Hurt Inside
An Acrostic using 'Broken And Hurt Inside'
Believing you would receive, you
Reached out
Only to have the
Knife in your gut driven deeper.
Eventually you learned
Not to be so gullible.
Answers cannot be found in others
Nor will healing be instantaneous; your
Denials keep you chained.
Have you not heard or
Understood? Though a
Resolute heart
Tries again and again to be free
It is held captive by its past.
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poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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Larger World
The tapping of metal to plastic balls
Tells me he’s out practicing his golf
Swings and strokes;
Seems he’s completely stoked over
The re-discovery of an old love.
The clickety-click of my keys tells him
I am renewing an old love of my own;
Writing poetry, visiting hidden worlds
Inside my office computer; attending to
Neglected interests from younger days.
In pursuit of old loves,
Like an artist applies paint to canvas
And creates new landscapes,
Our world is suddenly
Becoming larger.
poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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Party Of Two
I am learning to live
With another voice
Chattering through my
Creative thoughts;
Other sounds in the house.
Busy shoes that clickety click
Up and down the hallways;
Go in and out of doors.
I am learning to live
With a snacker;
A retired fast tracker while he
Learns how to play golf and the guitar;
How to paint.
My heart’s singular complaint...
It yearns to drink heartily again
Of the solitude it once knew.
But all things come to pass;
This too shall fade into my past
And I will learn
All over again
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poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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The Alone Tree
She once sat beneath its welcoming arms
Refreshed by its shade and comfort
Sharing all manner of childhood secrets;
Aptly named, her “alone tree.”
There she found refuge for hurtful tears,
A sanctuary to explore her hopes,
Her dreams and fears;
Formed a special bond
That anchored them both to this earth.
Each waxed strong
On their own as together
They weathered the storms.
And, it stands there still,
Its quiet strength and beauty
Still visible there in the morning mist...
That lone tree in the meadow of childhood;
Whose old friend long ago moved on to other fields.
poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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The Sound Of Water
Tons of water down the drain
Taking those long showers again;
More water splashing in the sink
Only for brushing,
Please stop and think.
Those multiple flushings
Down the bowl
Make you a disrespectful troll
Suffice it to say
Water is a “luxury”
To have each day.
Till now,
Conservation never appealed
But not having any,
Suddenly makes it a big deal.
Water is priceless
When you're in a drought
Some don't have any
And are running out.
So please be mindful
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poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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Funny World
Funny how the very ones who
Say they carry the light, also
Bare the responsibility
For most of the pain in the world.
Funny how the loudest whiners
Are the fanciest diners at the
Buffet of humanity.
Funny how the rich are exempt
And the poor breed contempt;
How the nations with the most to give
Play the best game of politics
Supplying the weaponry that
Eventually kills even their own children.
Funny isn’t it how the world works
With its upside down righteousness
And its lawful injustice, while
All the best parts of mankind are being
Sucked out through the holes in the ozone
Or dissolved completely in the furnace of
Unrestrained, thoughtless industry or greed.
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poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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Deadly Distractions
Amidst the racket of clanking dishes
Slamming doors, sloshing washer
And buzzing alarm of the clothes dryer,
I get the distinct feeling that
His vacuuming will suck away
My last remaining nerve.
I’m attempting to write a verse or two;
In much need of some peaceful repose.
But god only knows
How THAT’S going to take place
In a world turned to such chaos.
Lost is the tranquil space I need to create.
Is this to be my new reality? ? ?
His never ending busyness and
Ins and outs showing me his latest discovery,
Sharing details from a race or golf game;
Tasting his latest culinary concoction.
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poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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