Posted in frozen

Frozen Moment #18

I look into the mirror

And watch myself shatter

Until my reflection is all that is left.

©Ruth P. 2018

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in Being True, Uncategorized

Silent Keening

At the turn of the hour,

I lose my will to breathe,

Suffocated by the very thought,

Of the possibility of your loss.

The clock is loud

The fan rumbles,

Distant, like so much static,

Nothing seems real.

The salt has run its course for now,

A dull thrum above my brow,

Reminds me I am yet alive,

Waiting… for something.

There is a vice around my heart,

Choking, pinching, hurting,

All it does is to reiterate,

That I do not know where you are.

All my nerves and synapses have come to agree,

Pain is real, physical, and it can be seen,

All that needs to happen is for you be taken away,

And then let the world watch me suffocate.


©Ruth P. 2018

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in Being True, In Dedication...

In Fond Memory…

In dedication to the fond memory of a professor who, in the short time that I knew him, gave me the most honest encouragement I have ever received.

May his soul rest in peace in the lands of the blest. Amen.

I didn’t know him long;

This man of stature,

Of stalwart nature.

My knowledge, yet new,

Is now forever halted,

Even while his memory is exalted,

By those, who best knew him.

Through neither whim nor deliberation,

His mind and manners of higher station,

Enveloped all, who knew him.

Of manner mild, but firm intention,

He gave freely of his treasured lore,

To all, who closely knew him.

In the wake of his passing,

In the midst of our grief,

The good man himself our spirits upkeeps,

Rejoining our memories, bright tinged with gold,

Though many are but a few hours old.

Remember! Remember! search though we can,

No truer account than the life of the man,

Whose impressions are such as cannot be forgot,

Through annals of memories now still more are sought;

So together we gather in memory and strength,

The wisdom of this man to represent,

Though sharp is the shock of his loss from our lives,

It is through us, whom he taught, that he still, yet, survives.

©Ruth P. 2018

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in In Dedication...

Waking with the Sun

I look around and I can see

Stars and shapes and trees and hues

I fell in love and you chased away

All my Monday morning blues.

Waking up to a hot pale sun

No longer feels like a weary chore

Instead, the second that awareness comes

I smile at the thought of the treasure I hoard.

Your soft skin dapples under the shifting light

Enchanting me as it gives you mystique

And I long to see your soft lids rise

To reveal those sleepy brown orbs beneath.

A smile deepens the welcome

That always hovers in your laughter

You reach for my hands and hold me close

With the promise of ever-after.

I have kissed your gentle lips

Our fights have stretched our loving ties

But not a day that comes has passed

Without the sun lighting our love in our eyes.

©Ruth P. 2017

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in The Wandering Mind

Silently Ruminating

Silence – Part I


I have considered Silence…




In quiet meditations and crowded places.

Ever before had it seemed an ally;

Now it is a double-edged sword.

Amidst the vast hum of sound

It stands out;

Small as an ornament, yet equally bright,

Catching the eye precisely when

It’s keeper longs for that precious peace,

A moment of solitude,

A gentle lullaby,

A gradual hush,



Yet amidst the quiet I learned a language new;

Silence in silence speaks

It is not loud in the continual chatter of conscious minds

Uttering phonetically sound symbols in systematic order

A chaotic representation of culture and civilization and history, no.

Silence in silence speaks,

Loud in the emptiness of verbal warfare,

Casting long shadows, deep and unclear

Even under the sun

While it waits to be…

Be interpreted

Be written

Be read

Quite unlike that Rorschach inkblot test, and yet…

So like it.


©Ruth P. 2017

No part of this work may be reproduced.