tara caribou
poetry & short story author – artist & nature lover
Tag: Turmoil
Fair Weather Friend
You know the oneAlways there when the sun shinesor when you find five bucks on the sidewalk The first time you mentionthe creeping sadness in your heart >>POOF<<Magic disappearing actGone How are you? they askI’m feeling a bit depressed, you reply. . . Crickets… Continue Reading “Fair Weather Friend”
Wildfire
what hurts is I am nothing but a piece of clay filling a void I’m not the missing piece just a piece of muddy clay and when the hole doesn’t feel so empty you cast me aside until you need a substitute again I’m… Continue Reading “Wildfire”
A Prayer for Resurrection
sitting at my graveside looking in covered in the dark shroud shredded I gave one too many pieces and committed that final sin that final piece which stole the breath right out of my lungs so ready for you to love me begging starving… Continue Reading “A Prayer for Resurrection”
Trapped With My Books
in the quiet evening hours she criesalone in the stillnesssitting beside her bedpillow coldsheets wrinkled and muteshe scrolls and remembersthe lies, the betrayaluncertainty she’s trapped and nowshe cries for what should have beenwhat was supposed to bedreams lost, faded, unrealisticheart pierced throughshe will never… Continue Reading “Trapped With My Books”
Change of Seasons
My heart is filled with autumn Breezes teasing my hair loose From beneath my wool hat A river dried up left a winding trail For which my feet to travel Crisp air invading my lungs Honking vees moving overhead Crunchy leaves beneath my boots… Continue Reading “Change of Seasons”
In the Last Light of the Evening
The leaves on the trees have become smudges, merely a backdrop I look right through. I see nothing. I see everything. Everything. You weren’t able to reach beyond the now into tomorrow. You stay in the past and try for today, but never tomorrow.… Continue Reading “In the Last Light of the Evening”
Lies I Tell Myself (and Sometimes Others)
It’s okay that you don’t love me. I’m not hurting. It doesn’t bother me that you don’t read what I write. Sliding razor blades across my skin helps me feel (better). Stopping helps me feel (better). I’m happy. I’m getting used to us being… Continue Reading “Lies I Tell Myself (and Sometimes Others)”
That Fine Line
Your feet nearly touch the thin line, waiting, then pushing a toe tentatively nearer; you sigh wistfully, pull back gently. What delight may be held, should you ultimately cross over? Would it be to your peril or your salvation? There are risks and there… Continue Reading “That Fine Line”
tara caribou 