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Colored
Dust


Crash
Course in
Humanity


Disassociation

Fallen
Grace


On Parting

Treatise

Uneasy
Sleep


Words

Your Eyes


 

Beth Thompson – Archive   

 Beth's biography page



Colored Dust

I can feel my life dissolving around me,
memories melting into the shadows
leaving naught but faded colors behind.
Eyes closed I reach out hoping
for one last moment,
one last touch,
one last whispered word of love . . .
Too late.
My eyes open to find my life –
colored dust lying at my feet.



Copyright ©1999 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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Crash Course in Humanity

There will be no tests
at the end of this discussion.


All I ask for is a moment
of undivided attention
and for you to listen
with your deaf sight;

hear the world
through the eyes of your children.
Strive to tune in
to the harmony that flows
beneath this discordant reality
pounding out
it's flat tonal chords before you.

Listen with your peripheral vision
wherein you may hear the purest
note of Truth . . .
sung by a choir of innocence
through laughter, play, and bedtime prayers.

Humanity, defined by what we left behind
when we set our childhood aside . . .

Class dismissed.



Copyright ©1999 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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Disassociation

Mirror images,
Shattered pieces;
Each, a life of it's own.
Sandra
Didi
Robert
Lil' Tess . . .
Lost chapters,
Closed doors,
Hidden memories.
Products of pain and abuse
They shielded
They protected
They lashed out . . .
They became I.
No one guessed;
Few knew . . .
None know
of the child who still cries
inside.



Copyright ©1998 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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Fallen Grace

Grief comes with the tears,
there are no tender words of mercy
to circumvent the frustration
and pain suffered at this crossroads.

So many emotions lie tangled and broken,
too much confusion in the empty
palms of my hands. The lost mind
wanders amidst all the memories,

looking for the road that
led the heart to this
fall from grace.



Copyright ©1999 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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On Parting

A closing door and
loneliness settles in . . .
comfortable and familiar
with the contours of
my heart, greeting my
soul like a long lost friend.
My smile fades . . .
it just takes too much effort
to smile . . .
to laugh . . .
to think . . .
with your absence
echoing in every room,
ricocheting off the walls
to ensnare me in a cloak
of solitude.
The sand in the
hourglass trickles
in slow motion and
the hands of the clock
seemingly stop at this
instant in time.
The only consolation on
this sojourn of separateness
is knowing that I can
wrap you in my words . . .
Touch you in my memories . . .
Love you with all that I am . . .
Knowing you WILL return,
no matter the span of time.



Copyright ©1999 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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Treatise

You took me to the sea
and while there I contemplated the world,
the cosmos . . . our life together.
I found flaws in everything.

The world was full of too much violence,
the cosmos was something beyond my ken
. . . our life was skating along a fine line of
should I or shouldn't I – leave that is.

I looked out across the sea
and watched as the tide came in
and eroded the beach, taking back
some of what it had left behind
the last time.

I watched the sandpipers
chasing down the crabs;
fixated on the morsel of flesh
that they ripped from the shell,
all just a matter of give and take.

I watched you walk up the beach;
sunburned and a little tired,
but with a smile on your face.
It was that smile that stopped me;
that smile that made me realize
one doesn't run at the first sign of trouble.

Perfection isn't everything that
one hopes it will be . . .
it, like the sea, will seek to take back
some of what it leaves behind.
A misnomer it is, for it doesn't really exist
nor does idealism truly have a place to reside.

To learn to accept the flaws that are found,
to stay instead of leave,
to realize that a morsel of flesh
can be sustenance enough . . .

these are life's lessons;
and though being less than perfect
we are Human after all.



Copyright ©1999 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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Uneasy Sleep

. . . caught up in a
nightmare jungle of
ochre skies and broken-
glass trees whose
shattered leaves wail
in off-key discord
I wander aimlessly,
lost in self-absorbed apathy,
toward a dead horizon
vultures circling overhead . . .

. . . I find myself within
myself, outside myself
looking on myself
the spectral aura of
anxiety, mistrust
frustration and fear
surrounds me; heckling
and nagging, driving me
this way and that.
I see myself flounder,
drowning in a sea of confusion
"Hey, wake up!" I yell
but I don't listen
empty echoes falling
where there are no ears . . .

. . . drifting on the ether
above, I look down and
watch you saunter towards
me; invitation gleaming
in your eyes
a dearth of emotion
swells my heart and
I step towards you
with open arms
but the image blurs and
it is no longer
the titian-haired girl
I know from the mirror
but a stranger you
reach so eagerly for
"No!" I cry as the
gossamer threads of dream
that bind I to Me
snap and fling me screaming
headlong into a
tunnel of blackness . . .

. . . I see the clock;
indigo glow of reality
what seemed a lifetime
has been but an hour
I lay back, haunted
by nightmare images
in surreal color;
choking on the acrid
taste of the nowhere
I have been, wondering
if there is hidden meaning
in the repetitious recurrence
or am I slowly
going mad
body and soul weary
I seek solace in
the warming curves of
you, your heat wends it�s
way through my body
smoothing away the knotted
weave of taut nerves and flesh
as the tension eases
I feel the erstwhile
arms of Morpheus reach
out to enfold me
and I drift off to
uneasy sleep . . .



Copyright ©1999 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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Words

The words scurry and scamper thru my
head, giggling and laughing at me
as I try to grasp hold of them.
They tumble over each other like
children at play; making no rhyme
or reason but making up such
mirthful gibberish that I have to
step back and smile.

I try to get them to line up in an
orderly fashion; after all, I do
need to get my work done; but And
is tickling But while Then and Than
are arguing over who goes where and
Earnestly will not budge an inch
from the place she has chosen to be,
she's a big word now and she doesn't hav'ta
if she don't wanna.

The other words become bored with having
to wait while I try to get the rest to
behave. Whispering amongst themselves
they decide it's time to play their
favorite game . . . The Chase!

They scamper away willy-nilly and
I find myself running after them.
Trust, as always, is just beyond my reach
while the others are so far ahead I know
I�ll never get them back. As I start to
slow down, resigning myself to another
empty page, I see Love lagging just a bit.
I catch her up in my arms thinking, finally!
She smiles up at me and with a twinkle in her
eyes gives me a big ol' kiss . . . "Not today!"
she laughs merrily as she squirms out of
my arms, "Not todaayyy!�

Guess I'll have to try again later; who
knows, maybe they'll run out of wind . . .



Copyright ©1999 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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Your Eyes

Your eyes
Cracked ice, dark
in their depths
with desire flying
high on wings
of ephemeral joy
Smokey tendrils of
want and need
snake their way
up from the
dark depths,
fanning into flames
at their height
enveloping me in
a fiery halo
of consummate passion
in need of
nothing more than
a gentle touch.



Copyright ©1998 by Beth Thompson. All rights reserved.

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