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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
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—
Fragile
and strong
Broken
and whole
Loving,
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
They're
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
Now
Always
Don't think
Flow off the leaves
Slide
Land gracefully in the puddle of life
Ride the ripple
Love
Always love.
TITLE: At the window watching raindrops
SOURCE: freewriting typewriter poem
DATE: 2015 Jun 5
Terri Guillemets
Archives — 2015
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