writing

Scar Tissue

The suspected stalker accused the stalked.

The stalked never accused. Had she crossed the line, trying to find the truth? Or did she reveal her hand of her suspicions?

Was he innocent and honest with his own concern? Not a part of it at all? Or was he only deflecting, realizing what she suspected?

She never wants to walk away from him; she knew his dark side from before and accepted it. There was so much light that the dark would disappear.

But, he brought up concerns of violence, something she would never be capable of. If it were him, was he capable of it now?

Her nightmare returned; one from years ago. The burning sensation of a bullet piercing her heart through her back as she protected her husband at the door. The pain was too real.

It scared her, to a point she couldn’t handle. Others need to be safe if he were to ever rage against her. She used to be able to handle it. Together, they could find their way back to sanity. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Her mind is at attention, no longer in dreamland of what might have been. She has her present and future to protect.

Space and time. It’s what he asked for; it’s what she will give.

writing

Alexandria – Part One

Princess Alexandria surveyed her father’s kingdom from her balcony. She gracefully glided across the floor, her crepe purple and champagne gown flowing behind her. Her hands interlaced before her as her wheat colored hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her tiara of amethyst and diamonds, fashioned with beautiful interwoven swirls of champagne gold, wrapped across her forehead.

Alexandria was the next in line for the throne. Her mother, Queen Elena, and her father, King Zachary, worked to ensure she had the best education and would be prepared for the challenges which lay before her. At only 15, she was trained in parliamentary procedures, a polyglot, and had a strong grasp of economics and business. Her heart was charitable and kind as well, knowing that she would serve the people, they were not her subjects but rather she was theirs.

However, on days like today, her crown sat heavy on her head. She longed at times just to be a teenager, having fun and enjoying life like others her age. She wondered if her life as the Princess would even be fulfilling enough for her. She had much work to do, but, what about her own dreams and desires?

Her gaze returned to the kingdom before her. To the east, the plains housed the farms which provided food for all. To the west, majestic snow capped mountains rose above the tree line, filled with adventure and forming a natural line of defense from the bitter winter weather which comes their way every fourth season.

“Alexandria,” a voice called her from behind, “Your father, King Zachary, requests your presence.”

Alexandria turned to see a page, a small man barely five-foot-two, standing in the archway. He bowed his head in her direction.

“Thank you. Does father wish to see me in the throne room?”

“Milady, he requests your presence in the garden,” his voice trembled with nervousness.

“Very well. May I ask your name?”

The page quaked a little. He thought he might have broke some form of decorum, and stuttered his name, “Ma’am, I am known as James.”

Alexandria smiled. “Thank you, James.” She began walking towards him. She softly placed her hand on his arm as she passed. “I am very pleased to meet you.” With those words, she passed the kindest smile at James, hoping his nerves would calm.

James nodded at her, “Nice to meet you as well.” He sighed and let out his breath which he had unknowingly been holding. His nerves settled.

Alexandria had this unflinching ability to make everyone in her presence at ease. “I’m off to see father.” She nodded as she floated down the hall, full of grace.

poetry, writing

Watery Retreat

Swimming laps. I miss it. Since February of 2020, my toes have not touched a pool. When COVID-19 hit, all public gym activities ceased for me. I am about a month away from being able to head back…just need that final shot.


Shimmering water under the lights.

Lanes clearly marked. Flags draped across.

A quiet calm fills the air. Ripples form as I step in.

A refreshing chill travels up my legs. The water envelops me.

I dunk my head and silence takes over.

Stroke, Stroke, Stroke, Breathe.

Voices in my mind drown as I start to swim.

Stroke, Stroke, Stroke, Breathe.

My shoulders and back loosen up.

Stroke, Stroke, Stroke, Breathe.

Stress melts away as I relax.

Stroke, Stroke, Stroke, Breathe.

Calmness floats over me.

Touch, Flip, Switch Stroke.

Concentration returns to my form.

Stroke, Stroke, Stroke, Breathe.

Arms propel me through the water.

Stroke, Stroke, Stroke, Breathe.

Legs and feet work together, pushing me further.

Stroke, Stroke, Stroke, Breathe.

Multi-color flags warn me of the upcoming wall.

Stroke, Stroke, Touch.

The cycle begins again.

April 25, 2021~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

writing

Toiling Everlasting

Exhaustion creeps through her muscles and bones. Hours upon hours of work atop disrupted sleep. Driving home still needs to happen once this is all done, but when is the question.

So she sits patiently, waiting, among the beeps, chimes, and grind of gears. Another hour, and another hour ticks by. Who knows how many more hours to go…

The highways are crowded in this tourist town and she has many miles and a couple hours to go to escape. First she has to escape the job though and that seems to be hours away still.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Eyes are heavy, head is already pounding from a two day old headache. She needs a break, she needs back-up, she needs some food. She needs to breathe. No relief in sight. Hopefully she makes it home sometime tonight.

poetry, writing

Crystal Clear

The truth will set you free; the bitter truth stings while doing it. No one can change their past actions and mistakes, all we can do is learn from them and make changes and grow.

Peace to all who have had the patience with others navigating these obstacles when they are unable or refuse to see.


Crystal clear, the view is now. The head was playing tricks.

Crystal clear, the tears are now. Falling down swollen cheeks.

Crystal clear, the past is now. Memories are where they belong.

Crystal clear, the present is now. Without you, life goes on.

Crystal clear, the path is now. Only going forward, no more going back.

April 24, 2021~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

poetry, writing

Torn Up

Eating away, emotions are tearing apart my heart.

Misinterpretations of intent, taking over my brain.

The body writhes in pain, unable to be freed.

Unable to separate truth from words and actions.

What started out as a nobel attempt to reconnect

Fails miserably after all this time.

Knowing the failure, now can I move forward,

forget it all, and not worry about being forgiven?

It was meant to build and to help,

instead, my foolishness destroyed it instead.

Maybe that will close the door,

finally let me go.

poetry, writing

Sport Mode

The excitement of driving a sports car is awesome….even for the most intrepid and cautious driver. You never know when they’ll bust out the sport mode!


Glasses, on.

Seatbelt, strapped.

Engine, revving.

Waiting for the light to turn green.

Sport mode, engaged.

Ready, Set,

GO!

Flipping through the gears,

20, 40, 60, more.

How fast can she go?

Thrown back in the seat.

Breathing heavy.

How long can I push it,

before I chicken out,

settling for a few over the speed limit?

April 23, 2021~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

writing

Observation

Today, I sat in a room with 10 others, working on a major project. The room was full of people with a variety of technical skills…electricians, networking, engineering… and various managers. (Social distancing and masks were all in play!) As I sat there, contributing like the rest, I couldn’t help but recognize I was the only woman in the room.

I wasn’t uncomfortable, and everyone treated me as an equal. I work with other women as well, but just not in this scenario.

It makes me wonder however, why meetings like this are so unbalanced when it comes to gender. Are women not interested in technology? No, I know that isn’t true. Do men block advancement? Maybe, but that didn’t seem to be the case here!

So, ladies, and girls growing up, go for it. If you like to build or invent, or analyze and plan, or lead, follow that desire! I’d enjoy seeing a few other ladies in the room along the way!

poetry, writing

Snowy Thoughts


Moonlight streams down through the clouds and the beams bounce across the ripples in the lake.

The quiet coo of a final dove settling in echoes through the night air.

She reclines in her adirondack as the cooled air settles in after a balmy Florida day.

The flames from the firepit warm her naked toes as she looks across the water.

She wraps her arms across her chest, her hands rubbing her arms to keep her warm.

She imagines what it would be like to be up north where the snow is still falling and the air is colder.

Bundled up by a raging fire and watching snowflakes drift down silently through the window.

Curled up and playing games or watching old movies as drifts build outside the door.

She wonders if she’ll make it there one day to enjoy it all.

April 22, 2021 ~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth