Ribs Clutching Veins (day 2332)

Love turned to ice
Torn from it’s cave
Ribs clutching veins
Cavernous thoughts
Soiled floor
No longer beating
Lay the heart
Of the North Sea Queen
Upon her nightstand
Of blackest of stones.

Alone she sat
Eyes to the heavens
An empty void
Collapsing around her
In a symphony
Of North Sea Wind
Finding hollows
Within the North Sea Castle
Reminding all lovers
To beware
Icy grips of torture
Lay upon the brow;
Deep winter’s birth.

One by one
Suitors came bundled
Inexperienced, undermanned,
Incapable of holding
Court with frost
Who all left lifeless,
Vague and soulless,
Unable to escape
That same grip
Which tore thy love
– Ribs clutching veins.

North Sea Queen V by Doreen Broers
North Sea Queen V by Doreen Broers (ig)

Reasoning (day 2268)

My reason left a black mark upon that open door
It reached up, seared the roof then clambered about the floor
Dragging it’s hefty tail each step along the way.
Lamenting, I cried into the rain splashing about my ankles
Until I made a lonely call that brought back each raven
And there we sat in harmony, speaking to each other free
As my marking upon the door began to float up, on, out the door.

Treasure Chest (day 2131)

Rambling when I remembered to stop
A limb broken and I heard it drop
Methodically stripping naked
A consciously wrapped envelope
Placed at the trunk of a mighty old oak
Who waved back and forth
Silly gamblers marching about
To the tune of engines
Sputtering confusion
And lay raindrops upon folded corners
Which shall leak kava upon this ancient floor
Upon which I rest upon
To humbly assess the treasure chest.

A Little Mouse (day 2117)

As if in the ransack of time a little mouse could foresee such a circumstance, little unbeknownst to him and his furry paws scuttling to and fro about the forest floor – roots for here and roots for there, but left in a random mess that danced like bliss – as the owl hooted loud the shakey graves below the folly could tell ten thousand stories of arching madness and screaming terror; look out look out look out my friend, I have not come to be thy penance, no, I am here to hold thy candle brighter, to make thy night much less weirder, to the side of willow river and make a dart into thy deepened hole of safety and say to thy family you love them better and listen to your little mice that complain of washing and complain of chores but lead your life as you best can for times will come and leave you better beside the river and your cavern and your pretty mice wife, hither.

Most Likely Chance (day 1922)

Who’s got that hat on the floor?
Someone’s burning at the other end
Smoke trails and it’s begun
For the last of the cobblestones have shattered
Into night’s mystery, coo-coo, coo-coo.

Though one long sidewalk dance
Let it be called a clean romance
Cigarette’s burning down some more
Her eyes still singing forever in implore.

Judged like the colour of pure milk
A canvas rolled into the corners ilk
While every patron danced around the room,
Spilled wine and tossed off shoes
And pearls upon every hearted romance,
As art, given at most likely chance.

Lost Like Wings of an Angel (day 1814)

Like lost wings of an angel
Sun came and kissed my closed eyes,
Shaking little bits of history
Through my grasping fingers
And loosely fluttering to the floor
In a pattern that brought chills
All the way up my curved spine
To anxious tips of my shoulders,
Unfurling as spring blossoms.

Ode to a Lonely Pine (day 1769)

Like my grandfather that came to rest
Rocking slowly in his old pine chair,
You watch the vista with an open air
Shaking loose your frazzled hair.

For in the cold months
You stand tall and proud,
And in the dark days
Your silhouette is my lighthouse home,
And in crisp mornings
Your tips refresh me
Like my eyelids breaking free.

But before I walk up to shake your hand
I wait for you to permit me through,
For your roots stretch long beneath the floor
And touch my home, forever more.

a lonely pine covered in snow

Carry Me (day 1728)

You don’t have to carry me;
My long lines have touched the floor
And I’ve taken all of my clothes off
To bare everything I’ve got
And you’re not one of that.
Not your wary heart
Or your passive thoughts
Or even the calloused moments
Between making love
And walking away.
This is my burden
And you don’t have to carry me.

Our Humble Home (day 1663)

We whisked away the midnight danger
Upon a solemn sleigh,
A hoof and breath,
A peak and trough,
Heaving the way we went.
I cannot say how long we sat
Being our beasts poor burden,
But alas, upon the valley floor
Ahead of us lay,
Amid deep nights deeper darkness,
A silhouette I knew familiar,
What any visitor could barely distinguish as
Our humble home to which we owed
Warm nights, forevermore.