in the end
what’s foe
is friend

©2016janetaylor

his writing caught everyone’s attention
like an artist i once saw on the street in québec
he stood out amongst the crowd in montréal
i asked to take his picture
he obliged

this writer is also canadian
and paints masterpieces
with words

his colorful lines sometimes float on jagged edges
brushes of sticky sugar coating are exchanged
for starker strokes of reality
tinged with weathered wisdom
creating shadows in his work
accentuating the light

there’s not a write of his
that does not stir emotions
his words linger
rolling around in your head
bumping into each other
morphing into new connotations
his easel alive

you wonder if he did that on purpose?
could anyone have that kind of talent?
yes…..his brush continues flowing
even after the paint is dry

suddenly at midnight i awaken
and hear another morsel
a word, a phrase, a color
that only made itself known
in the dark of night

understanding he's a favorite
i imagined audibly hearing a collective sigh
when he contracted cancer
would he now leave his canvas dry?

no, this courageous artist
bravely took his palette
and continued painting
his words that us awaken
now e’vn more radiant
with tragedy astride

and ‘tho he talks of dying
i pray that he will stay
but should his spirit fly
we have seen a master show us
how to walk into the light

©2016janetaylorhardy

thoughts,
speeding,
a fuzz of neon lights,
a buzzing of highways,
what was what i was to do?,
chocolat, please,
or not,
a gag upon it,
a shut down,
oh the vertigo
of the echoes,
have a drink,
red velvet wine,
your lips, lend me
your tongue, oh my,
delusional again,
okay,
one, two, three,
what?, counting helps,
or maybe going alphabetically
through words, a for
whatever,
hey, who cares,
let it be,
no train is endless
(hopefully)

Alices in holes,
swaying in the
land of mirrored
doors. Stiffed
Humpties on walls,
in the distant light.

Dumped my faith,
once, twice, three times
dumped it.  So, you see,
chopped my own heart,
had to.
Will you have me
around your table,
Mad Hatter, sir,
'cause i'd suit so well,
into a merry go-round.

No more me to
hand out, delusional
believer in stories,
made up stories
in snow faked globes.

Oh yes, of course,
i can pass the sugar,
we ran out of salt.
Shall we overdose now,
from a sweetened slumber?

skipping a heart beat
seemingly you,
there, in the crowd

the lightness
of a possiblity
to live,
to hold on

watching kids,
their eyes
tying of shoe laces.
reading the first word ever.
trusting a friendly hand.

dreaming,
of home,
everybody’s there
coloured motion,
disclosing bygones
in now lands

not to cry
when realising
the ephemeral
unreality of hoping

06.05.2016

This is what I feared would happen.
That you would prove me wrong,
And by wrong I mean right.

That all the doubts I had in the beginning,
Would make themselves come true.

That I would set my eyes on you,
And begin to see a glow.

That you would feed off of my emotions,
And make me forget for more than a second,
Black holes don't turn into stars.

Lost in a landfill of thoughts,
Blocked by my heart
Till finally it was caught.
High hopes have taken over
And life is always an exposure.
With reality killing spirits
Just trying to keep composure.
I just hope you hear me,
Crying out for a plea.
Only wanting everyone to stand back and really see,
That I forever am and will always be just me.
Realistically speaking,
I have always yearned to flee.
Figuratively speaking you don't want to know me.
And I will always love and be loved gratefully.
But please do proceed cautiously.