The Quote Garden

 I dig old books.

 Est. 1998

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Terri Guillemets
Archives — 2015

This is the archive of my publicly published writing from 2015 — the good, the bad, the active and the retired.  It includes content written for The Quote Garden as well as personal journals and writings.  Some entries were originally untitled with a title added later, and some were first published under other pen names.  —tg, 2023

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You can't get overwhelmed by the thought of all the weeds if there are flowers in your soul.

      DATE:  2015 Jan 18

the years sprint, sail, drift, fly —
days melt into sleep
decades we no longer know
by taste or smell, yes
but hard fast memories tend not to keep —
youth lives on — yet, is long gone
birds chirp each spring anew
but our hearts sing the same shades
of childhood colors we once knew

      TITLE:  Iridescent
      DATE:  2015 Feb 10

the body is a clock —
bones tick and tock
years gather in flesh
an alarm set for death

      TITLE:  Forty-two-tick-tock
      DATE:  2015 Oct 16
      NOTES:  revised

Autumn breathes in golden sunshine and breathes out a frosty chill.

      DATE:  2015 Oct 17

Winter is the slow-down
Winter is the search for self
Winter gives the silence we need to listen
Winter goes gray so we can see our own colors

      DATE:  2015 Dec 29

Life winks as it passes me by
and is gone before my own blink of eye.

      DATE:  2015 Feb 6

modern stress —
      toxic evil

toxic stress —
      modern evil

      DATE:  2015 Mar 13

Even happiness worries sometimes.

      DATE:  2015 Dec 27

you can shout it to every star
bare your soul up to the moon
cast your problems nightly afar —
but they always flood back by noon

      DATE:  2015 Jun 5

Beer lays a comforting veil of mirth between reality and me.

      TITLE:  Cheers!
      DATE:  2015 Feb 19

Journal. Kinda like a blog, but on this thing called paper.

      TITLE:  Audience of one
      DATE:  2015 May 16

the shadow on the tree bark moves
and emerges in the shape of a gecko

      TITLE:  Arizona ash
      DATE:  2015 Jun 5

I got up one day, young—
made a quick sandwich
threw back a cold beer—
then BAM! — I was old
                   just like that.

      TITLE:  Not so subtle, all too true
      DATE:  2015 Jun 16
      NOTES:  revised

Mornings smell and taste
like fresh, raw life;
Night reeks of dreams.
Afternoons are scentless,
save for tea & 3pm regret.

      TITLE:  Afternoon
      SOURCE:  freewriting typewriter poem
      DATE:  2015 Jul 6

I've found a comfortable spot in life,
And I want to stay here.
Hopefully that doesn't hasten my demise.

      SOURCE:  journal
      DATE:  2015 Dec 28
      AGE:  forty-two

You've got to keep moving to keep the beauty of life in perspective. If you hold still too long, things go blurry.

      DATE:  2015 Jul 13

Fall, temperatures, fall, fall! Let the weather mellow and the year drift into peacefulness.

      DATE:  2015 Sep 1

...autumn winds shaking color from the trees...

      DATE:  2015 Oct 16

Early autumn's peaceful slant of morning light — the first soul calm since late spring's farewell breezes.

      TITLE:  It has begun
      DATE:  2015 Aug 10

the light is gorgeous
there is football
the smell of crackling wood
in evening fireplaces
spices in the ale
gentle dawns
chilly, and breezes
afternoon oft' warm
O', those october breezes!
full-breath deep serenity
pleasures of company
before the year gets lonely
pumpkin pie, pumpkin everything
squash—butternut, kabocha, delicata!
a mellow heart, slowing pace
middling between
regular motion & slow motion
the air lighter yet heavier
betwixt, in the midst of—
something unnamable
not either and yet both
spirit more, veiled less
green at its most beautiful
although not spring-like
but a little of spring, i dissent
the angle of Sun makes a new color
we don't have in any other month
comfy sweaters, thicker socks
thunder, clouds, big raindrops
clear crisp nights, sweeter stars
cozy cuddling, autumn-taste kisses
earlier bed reading, more books!
a fear—vague thoughts, of
what might not make it out from winter
but a chance we are forced to take
life risk, being alive
in autumn is true life

      TITLE:  Autumn whispers October into my ear
      DATE:  2015 Oct 9

Poetry allows
my soul to age gracefully
my mind to land softly
amongst the new gray hairs —
without it I’d have thunked
into my forties with
tail bone, funny bone
and spirit broken

      TITLE:  Only bruises
      DATE:  2015 Oct 19

October sun — soul-stirring
October air — wood-burning
October quiet — ease-giving
October birds — poet-calling
October trees — edge-trembling
October light — serene-slanting
October colors — eye-calming
October leaves —art-sparking

      TITLE:  October's porch
      DATE:  2015 Oct 22

If a poet writes in gibberish, his soul yet understands.

      DATE:  2015 Nov 28

Poetry blazons sexy words
with lusty, charming rhymes—
Prose is a sensible lover
who's always done at the stop.

      DATE:  2015 Dec 26

Any real writer has had a papercut on the forehead at least once.

      TITLE:  A life with papers
      DATE:  2015 Oct 17
      NOTES:  revised

Unlike other deaths,
years do not die from sickness
or murder,
their time just comes—
perhaps a little weary
from a twelvemonth of toil
but neither sad nor glad to go;
'Tis been a pleasure to be of service,
the faithful companion old year says
with a bow as he parts
And seamlessly the new is born
with experience somehow already in hand
to begin the first January morn.

      TITLE:  Ad infinitum
      DATE:  2015 Dec 31

G-rated, stripped down, politically correct fuzzwords and threadbare phrases rarely reflect real life.

      TITLE:  I am fat, not weight-challenged
      DATE:  2015 Oct 29

It's easy to get lost when the map is in your hand and not in your heart.

      TITLE:  Kicking up dust on my own path
      DATE:  2015 Feb 17

The wordsmith cuts saws for a living.

      DATE:  2015 Aug 25

sunlight shimmering through a leaf-clung raindrop
so heavy it has to fall but so happy it can't
like a rainy jewel, sparkling after the storm —
a hummingbird lands ever so lightly on the tree
and whoosh! the gem falls free

      TITLE:  The poetry of raindrops
      DATE:  2015 Mar 2

If scary things scare you
And you're just scared
      that happy things
      will get taken away
And if a life of fear
      is all you know
      it's under your skin
      and in your bones
Then you look away
      for a kiss, for love,
      for momentary glory
And the fear melts away
      or is forgotten —
When it rushes back
      or creeps in again,
How much life have
      you lost, or gained?

      TITLE:  Magnificent beauty ebbs the flow of time and fear is a dirty thief
      DATE:  2015 May 26
      NOTES:  revised

In the desert, the slow quiet entrance of autumn lets us breathe a sigh of relief — exhaling all the hot, stifling air built up over summer.

      TITLE:  Re-blooming
      DATE:  2015 Sep 11

The quiet of October is refreshing
The quiet of November, oppressing

      TITLE:  How suddenly it turns
      DATE:  2015 Nov 13

Summer. Hot. Sleepy. Will resume regular brain function October'ish.

      DATE:  2015 Jun 12

Thank you for believing in me still —
after all these give-ups
and half-days trying
the days half-trying —
your strength flies over my weakness
my strength aspires to you —
I spot you all the time
knowing you're spotting me.

Looking close is fine and good
once in a while
but flight is beauty —
your waving wings
and gliding, soaring courage
green leaves & faith your backdrop
blue sky your home.

You never stay too long
but are always there
when I need you —
to remind me of beauty
and make all my poetry prayer.

I don't know if the air is sweet
for you, or hard —
for me the ground is both —
but you're still here
even though you're there
and I thank you.

      TITLE:  White butterfly
      DATE:  2015 Jul 1

Some days my soul is windy,
blowing the dying leaves
off my aging bones.
My heart aches,
but it's winter pains —
nothing a little spring won't cure.

Sometimes a dandelion blows my way
from a neighboring soul
and makes me wonder —
what of mine drifts through life
to strangers or kin
going through their own
inclement weather?

If the clouds blow away
and the skies become blue again
and the sun gets a little too harsh
and my hair instead turns gray,
would I yearn for another storm?

And should I be thankful for clothes
to protect my naked body
or has too much protection
prevented me from the full potential
of my skittish and unclothed mind?

      TITLE:  3pm sunbeams, palms, winter wind
      DATE:  2015 Dec 26

a scientist
a good man
Walter White
had risen
quite different
instructor guide
taking a stranger name
to be dishonest —
broke, money
fallen, sorry
dangerous, sick
crazed, angered
poof! vanish

      TITLE:  W.W.
      SOURCE:  found poetry
      BOOK:  Hughes Mearns, Richard Richard, 1916
      DATE:  2015 Sep 30

Why, why, why, why is it still 98°F in October?! My autumn joy is half-melted.

      DATE:  2015 Oct 2

I've heard that having gout toe-tally sucks!

      DATE:  2015 Nov 7

Poetry has eternally inked itself on my mind,
the pen of the universe writes in my heart,
the harp of emotion plays chords in my soul.

      TITLE:  Sunday breakfast & morning view
      DATE:  2015 Jul 5

Merry Sunday, and
a happy long weekend
to one and to all!

Labor not — for one day,
just sit, breathe, and rejoice
drinking what you please
and enjoying what you may.

      DATE:  2015 Sep 6

In America, socialism is a four-letter word. The dirtiest of them all.

      DATE:  2015 Nov 7

Heart & me—
and strong
and whole
and loving.

      DATE:  2015 Feb 6

Bloated —
39% with food
78% with guilt
for what I'm doing to my body.

      TITLE:  Bloated
      SOURCE:  typewriter poem
      DATE:  2015 Apr 30
      NOTES:  it's metaphorical math, numerical poetic license

With beer, I'm sure the world is good;
Sober, the hell of thoughts reigns and
Wicked shadows cast bad realities —
And the bad of the world congeals on my mind;
Drinking skims off the toxic layer of reality.

      TITLE:  Replacing toxic reality with intoxicating toxins
      SOURCE:  typewriter poem
      DATE:  2015 Sep 20
      NOTES:  Co-author:  Samuel Adams

At the window —
Watching raindrops glide off the leaves
Sweat dripping off your brow
As you make love to me in the thunder
A bird plays in the puddle under the tree
Its skinny legs dipping in life
Beak happy, wings at the ready — being
Just being
Our love, present, moment
Don't think
Flow off the leaves
Land gracefully in the puddle of life
Ride the ripple
Always love.

      TITLE:  At the window watching raindrops
      SOURCE:  freewriting typewriter poem
      DATE:  2015 Jun 5

YEARLY  ARCHIVES 2024,  2023,  2022,  2021,  2020,  2019,  2018,  2017,  2016,  YOU  ARE  HERE,  2014,  2013,  2012,  2011,  2010,  2009,  2008,  2007,  2006,  2005,  2004,  2003,  2002,  2001,  2000,  1999,  1998,  1997,  1996,  1995,  1994,  1993,  1992,  1991,  1990,  1980s,  ARCHIVES  HOMEPAGE

Terri Guillemets
Archives — 2015

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