IMAGINARY ARTIST

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

Painting On A Canvas
That’s Wider Than The Sky
With All The Hues And Colors
The Limitless Mind’s Eye 

Good Teacher

You were a good teacher.

You taught my skin to delight in your caress.

My fingers learned to search for yours.

I learned to listen for your whispers.

My sighs learned your name.  

My desire learned to match your heat.

My pulse learned to quicken with your embrace.

You taught me to thirst for your touch.

I learned the loneliness of empty nights.

You taught my tears to fall in your absence.

You taught me how to say goodbye.

I learned of a broken heart.

© 2018 Penny Wilson

For more of my writings please visit my blog: Penny Wilson Writes

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Footprints

3 of 12 in the ‘My very best’ series

In the sand we saw footprints that led to the sun
and we followed them true for a while
but then a distraction called from one side
so we scurried away with a smile

But the smile of distraction soon turned to a frown
and could never hold us for long
as we realised its shallow deception
and grew tired of its welcoming song

THANK YOU FOR LEAVING ME (REFLECTIONS ON THE TRUTH)

By Charles Robert Lindholm  

 I wish I would

stay angry

the way they say

I should

But I’ve learned

that letting go

makes me feel so good

She breathes

2 of 12 in the ‘My very best’ series

Two springtime trees, unfettered
she moves there with the breeze
through branches stretched, awakening
with budded fresh green leaves

She embraces for a sweet caress
touching all she sees
her warming breath of soft sunshine
from winter's pale white knees

She rises to that warm embrace
as tears are swiftly freed
replaced with Springtime's cheery smile
as with new life she breathes

HAIKU: YOU ARE MY LIFE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I can’t imagine

Summer’s child (revisited)

1 of 12 in the ‘My very best’ series

The winter’s shadowy clouds have past
And Summer’s child is here
To warm the cockles of our hearts
And fill our eyes with cheer
Summer’s child is pure and free
Her breath is fresh and new
Her hands give life to grass and tree
Beginning summer true

THE NAKED PIANO

By Charles Robert Lindholm

 

Sitting on a stage

in a solitary pose

like a model

with no clothes

 

No clothes

to hide the beauty

that we see

and the magic

that we hear

 

Transfixed

we cannot

look away

My very best

When you write something
of which you are proud
and brings you a smile
and makes you shout loud
'Cos you know that the words
which have come from your heart
are worthy to share
and to others impart?

LIFE IS A JOURNEY

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

each day is like a journey on a frontier trail
the fellow travelers change depending on the
time, place and destinations
fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives,
friends, relatives, classmates and coworkers come and go 

Et Voila!

Dog walkers walking with plenty of dogs
some running free some on leads
the river meandering down to the sea
with ducks hiding there in the reeds

A grey sky above but the chill is now gone
and there's no wind at all here today
There's even a hint of blue through the cloud
out there in the spread of the bay

I’M JEALOUS OF THE WORDS I WRITE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I’m jealous of the words I write

knowing they’ll be touching you

deep in your heart, while we’re apart

and I’m alone in the night without you

Droplets falling

Poised
the droplet falling
rippled to
concentric rings
fading to whimsy
save to the
next repetition
from which
tiring never fades

TRACE ME, PAINT ME

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Trace me with your fingers
From my head down to my toes
From the mountains to the valley
Let your fingertips disclose
My limbs and all my branches
And the curving of my nose
Let me feel your gentle strokes
Marking out my pose

Sylvan

No.9 in the Colloquy series

Darkened the tunnel beckoned
as sunlight filtered through
so gingerly I ventured
to the sylvan place I knew

The sound of trickled water
from the river down below
brought comfort to my quickened step
with beauty there on show

THREE LITTLE LINES OF POETRY

By Charles Robert Lindholm  

 

 

Three little lines of poetry

so easily I read

but then I found them wandering

deep inside my head

Kiss Me In The Rain

Kiss me in the rain

Love washes 
over me

Flames 
no downpour can extinguish

Thunder 
in my heart

Washing away 
doubts

Washing away 
past demons

Kiss me 
in the rain

Copyright (C) 2023 Penny Wilson All Rights Reserved

Please visit MY BLOG for more poetry and writings. 

All was well

At the cusp of a day
an arm wrapped around shoulders
and squeezed

Calm descended
as clouds parted to a brightness unseen
and all was well

HAIKU: SHE STUMBLED INTO HER SILENCE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

She stumbled into

The Most Magical

I am the first thought
flowing to paper as the
poet sees the yellow
of a morning sky outside

I am the first breath
as a night of slumber ends
and rejuvenation leaps
to inspiration for the new

NO LONGER STARS EXPLODING

 —-DRIFTWOOD MEMORIES—-

By  Charles Robert Lindholm

 

A simple question, Will you?

I heard you say, “I do”!

and I thought it was forever

I believed that it was true

First Forsythia

Caught a glimpse of yellow
through the kitchen door
whipped the iPhone quickly out
to capture what I saw

First forsythia growing
heralding the Spring
make me feel quite happy
caused my heart to sing

HAIKU: HAIKU HUNTING

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

Sitting in the dark

Sunshine Smiles

Wrapping arms tightly around
the grey cloud in the sky
the sunshine warmly smiled
saying 'no more need to cry'
'You're done today, your tears have fed
the world down there below
but now it's time to rest
and let my smiles now gently glow'

I FOUND A PAIR OF SPARKLING EYES

By Charles Robert Lindholm

 

I looked across

my shoulder, left

and there

to my surprise

I found a pair

of sparkling eyes

and finally 

realized

 

To adore

Whose nose is this? I thought as I passed
close by to the hole in the gate
it looked lovely and the sounds from within
were those to appreciate
For all the brown heifers were gathered in there
lounging about in the straw
save for the one with her nose poking through
at Middle Farm here to adore

I SHALL ALWAYS HUNGER

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I may never feel the touch

of your skin upon mine

or drink in all your kisses

like some fabled, vintage wine

In the past (aka ‘wherewithal’)

If you're reading this now
on the day it appears
on line on the web
you will be in arrears
For most of the work
that I publish each day
comes from the past
in a meaningful way