Copyright ÂŠ 2010 Poetry: Sorina Busch, Illustration: Tristan Kiyan Design: Derrick Williams All rights reserved. Published in the United States at Williams Park Publishing, an imprint of the Coppermine Publishing Group, a division of Coppermine Inc., New York. Coppermine and colophon are registered trademarks of Coppermine, Inc. ISBN 847-4-5612-8464-7-6122 eBook ISBN 796-I-90746-987-5-5277 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper www.copperminepublishing.com 76893790 First Edition Book design by Derrick Williams
Table of Contents Poem 1 Poem 2 Poem 3 Poem 4 Poem 5 Poem 6 Poem 7 About Page (writter) About Page (graphic designer) Thanks Page
My eyes open, My head pounds. I look around the room, hoping to find some motivation. Perhaps I will find it elsewhere. The sun hangs directly over my head, like an anvil, ready to drop. Not unlike myself today. Iâ€™m halfway there. Halfway through. Almost time to leave. Now come the longest hours of the day. Maybe I can trick myself. Donâ€™t look at the clock. Standing in front of the microwave, waiting for dinner, Iglance about my house and find nothing. There is comfort in that, but also something else. I reflect on my day. They say there is safety in routine, but what about boredom in safety? My eyes close.
SHARING IS CARING It is cold here, and lonely, There is shortage of silence to keep compay, My own company, What once was a bustling spot, full of friends and lovers is now nothing more than a place to gather dust, But this dust I have gathered is my own and no one elseâ€™s. I will not share this last possession of mine.... because i cannot share. No more can the flowers bloom and blossom from this cracked soil, hard and cold as concrete No more do the trees produce their fruit. Red, yellow, orange. Beautiful Not here in this barren land, heart, mind, soul.
COLORS LOST IN TIME I opened a box of my favorite postcards, bursting with color and fond memories. Leading me from my sterile grey existence to a period when I called luck and time my friends. As I sift through the old noted from old friends, some dear to me, and others former, I think for a moment I may sneeze, but that moment, not unlike any other, passes by with little effort. Things aren’t really all that bad I suppose, but they’re not all great as they seemed back then. The brightest of these reads “Wish you were here” and now more than ever I wish I was too.
Looking down at the sidewalk I notice just how filthy it really is. Dirt and grime have taken it over and in places there are mysterious stains. Thousands, if not more, have tread this path. I do so nearly every day, but to stop and look? Or to even think about sitting? The thought would never cross a sane mind. Is that gum? What is that? Vomit maybe? So few people look down and notice the path their on, and now that I have, I am left wondering why people arenâ€™t more afraid of falling?
THE BOXER Beaten, black and blue, my corner throws in the towel. They seem to think I’m finished. Am I? A sultry, simple smile may convince me otherwise. I’m always ready to try this again. Are you? Persistent pain pushes me to the end of my wits, but I know I must never give up… Don’t I? A loud, long, lingering bell tolls and tells me this is over. I can’t seem to remember the end. Can You?
THE TRAVELER It seems from the time that I was very young, to the time they call right now, I have been walking in circles. Walking alone. Pacing endlessly with my head full of thoughts. Who am I? Where am I going? What do I want? I wonder what is the point? I, I, I. It is tiresome keeping pace with oneâ€™s mind, never to settle, never to slow. Without an end in sight. Blind. But now I can see that living this way may not be the only way to live. That is, if you are like me. Lonely.
Denny Munson (Writer)
Derrick Williams (graphic designer)