years went by
pleas were ignored
love languished
ripened, yet not picked
seen, and not heard
dying on the vine
a heart’s desire
not getting what it needs
it was perishing
before my eyes
years went by
pleas were ignored
love languished
ripened, yet not picked
seen, and not heard
dying on the vine
a heart’s desire
not getting what it needs
it was perishing
before my eyes
WHIPPOORWILL
I hear
a whippoorwill’s
bodiless
chirp
dusk’s
inimitable mating call –
the bird world
opens a window
but doesn’t turn
a light on
DESERT MORNING
the sun of old
reveals an empty landscape
shines on every cliff-face
the prospect of heaven
steamrolls with light
the thick, hardened clay
wakes the stones
to another blind day
CROPS
black earth
can only bury
for so long
a seed’s
steel boldness
FIRE ON FIRST STREET
A house burns.
Throngs of flame
overwhelm firemen’s hoses.
The family is safe,
look up in horror
from the opposite side of the street.
In one collective searing raspberry,
a great red tongue
pokes and pffts
through every window.
AFTER THE BREAKUP
like salmon
swimming upstream
you too return
to your birthplace
flop on your old bed
and die a little
MEDALS
Survived a helicopter crash,
was shot three times
and badly wounded
from a roadside bomb explosion,
of his chest full of medals,
his very favorite was his chest.
TAKE PLEASURE
Through my window,
I spy a sky worth waking to,
the blue of Dutch pottery,
and thin strips of cloud.
No tenements.
No factories.
No smoke-stacks.
No traffic.
Looking up
gets me out of the city.
POST-DIVORCE
the hands drifted apart
and the hearts
were now for everyone else
yet remained unwanted
in the lonely years to come
~~~
John Grey is an Australian poet, a US resident, and has recently published in New World Writing, River And South, and The Alembic. Latest books, “Bittersweet”, “Subject Matters,” and “Between Two Fires,” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Paterson Literary Review, White Wall Review, and Cantos. John has been with The Short of It since its very first feature, and received a Push Cart Nomination from TSI for his 2024 piece – Handoff.

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Inspired by What do you see #331
harmony at first
what begins comes to an end
shattered hearts run red
a heaviness surrounds
the lonely veil i wear
of not being remembered
while i’m right here
silent tears trickle
from an ache to be wanted
arms reaching out
only to be met with distance
what’s the anti-venom for disgust
because it’s slowly killing me
promises not solemn
an inimical rage felt
lifetime mishandled
Redux
you threw the first rock
the force of it landed
the pain came in slivers
you broke open
love’s shelter
it’s no longer safe here
our warmth escaped
cold steeliness seeped in
my blood curdled icy
Originally published 4/10/2019 on I Write Her.


Inspired by What do you see #306
crisp conversation
with a visceral response
we are over now
there is an underworld hiding in relationships
like the place of departed souls in hades
it’s weakness
maybe he didn’t mean to hurt you
or abuse your trust
but he did
his deeds were intentional
his needs, desires, and wants came first
like you didn’t matter
his love is an illusion
a lie you can’t believe in anymore
the flowers and chocolate romance
heated by unbridled lust
and wicked passion
the start of both your engines
“the honeymoon phase”
a mix of tender intimacy
and out-of-control longing
countless, unending hours of communication
but then, the day-to-day takes its toll
overtime at work and at home
nudges each over the jagged edge of stress
undernourished nurture strains the bonds once so strong
eventually, the peak is reached
and after a certain time
the relationship solidly diminishes
there is no return to paradise anymore
what came so easily before
now, only a faint trace of the allure remains
occasionally, it’s sparked again
but mostly, there’s indifference
it’s tiresome to be so out of sync
and frustrating to feel extinguished
now, only capable of loathing
enduring yet another day of disassociation
until one day when the sadness, too hard to bear anymore, makes her turn and walk away
Redux
i’m not the enemy
wrong
you were never a friend
friends will…
listen
offer a shoulder to cry on
give tissues as needed
nurture
be excited to be with you
tell the truth
protect
support
engage
comfort
laugh with you
act like your #1 fan
shield you from oncoming shit
be ready and waiting
me having to stand up for myself
and up to you
proved once and for all
you were never willing
to give what should have
come so naturally
Originally posted 2/11/2019, here on I Write Her.