Alone

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Alone

I remember looking through strawberry lemonade,
as the sun set in June. The water almost stationary
while the ripples slowly worked their way up the sand.
Even the seagulls were silent that afternoon.
I was alone. Watching, walking and waiting.

The pinky-orange sky darkened as the sun
fell behind the skyline. I felt the
aftermath of lingering prickles — jeering blisters upon my skin
reminding me that I should have used sunscreen.
I was alone. Watching, walking and wandering.

 

Copyright©2015 CarlaIacovetti

sunrise~2

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Books

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Books birth new beginnings.
Moments perhaps less-lived, or by no means lived–
Adventures of the mind bound together by glue
With a pretty picture or two.

The great escape from life’s unpleasantness
When stormy skies refuse to let the sun shine,
And fairness is non-existent amid supposed freedom
Whereby all men are created equal.

Changed perspectives immersed in fables–
Stories whether whimsical or true, create
Variety for less desirable, melancholy moments
Eradicating despondent dispositions.

Sometimes, moods are less altered
And sulking is the outcome of a dreadful read
When relief is nowhere in sight —
It might be a sign to turn out the light!

Copyright©2013 CarlaIacovetti

Ship of Tides

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Lured by a gentle breeze, the firmament
blue made way for the promise
of a calming afternoon.

I set out for the oceans edge, laced by
dunes of sand and a Ship of Tides rolling
in and out, while the sounds of sea life–
natures cries echo loudly in my ear.

Serene settings for repose amid busy
reality, where active hours lay hold, often
interrupting solitude.
Dozing is certain.

Carried off, away I go
into a world of
gray matter slumber–
upon your deck, Ship of Tides,
swaying back and forth
with every wave crash.

Skin resembling baked leather,
scorched by unblocked luminous
sunlit rays caught me unaware,
in my moment of doze. OUCH!

Off in the distant horizon,
far removed, the outline of
your splendor, silhouetted
against a backdrop of the
setting sun.

I remember your beauty
hidden in desire; Ship of Tides
you forever sail in and out of my mind.

Sailing, sailing

My Version of Fall

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The morning sun shone brightly
through the uncovered paned window;
a site not uncommon this time of year.

For a moment, I had forgotten
that the season shifted, and summer
was fading to a distant memory—

but then fall in Santa Barbara
could fool a fox.

Sun glistened through trees green,
leaves swayed to breezy melodies
as temperatures rose to 80 degrees.

Everything was going along fine.

The smell of sizzling meat
on my neighbors grill
further added to my forgetfulness.

I suppose it was the gnawing sound
of teeth chattering
that woke me from my dream.

Walking toward the window,
I watched acorns rain down
from the tall tree above.

Then dashing through the fallen leaves
wide tails flashed and the sounds of loud kuks—
conversations between two squirrels

fighting over a fallen acorn,
reminded me that
summer had passed.

Copyright 2013 CarlaIacovetti

Image

Running

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                                                   Why
are you running so quickly through life?
Climbing every mountain—
Fording every stream—
Looking for every opportunity,
Chasing every dream.
 
Disconnected from passion
You hurl people like obstacles
And look to the safe side of life
In your self-serving world.
 
Breathless from perpetual motion
Like a mouse on a wheel
You scurry after every promotion
Always looking for a better deal.
 
Relationships are kept distant—
Convenient and superficial,
Heartfelt emotion is nonexistent
In the world you’ve shaped.
 
                                                   But,
life is much more than running,
And chasing every dream
One day you’ll wake up—
To realize all is not as it seems.
 
So before the sand in the hourglass
Slips from your being,
Slow down and take a look at
Life’s deeper meaning.

Copyright2012©Carla Iacovetti

 

The River

Bouncing over rocks,
The river moves in rhythm
Pushing obstacles out of the way,
While remnants float at the sidelines.
 
Silent, these bruised artifacts slowly drift—
Downward they go, lost and alone
Forever roaming far away from home,
As memory fades to black.
 
The river does not apologize
Nor make exceptions, but
Runs its course, rushing as
If it is ruled by time,
 
And ever-increasing rapids ensure
The impending drop—
As whitewater gurgle
Bends us through life.
 
Copyright2012©CIacovetti