Monthly Archives: October 2012

WHEN RAINDROPS TURN TO DIAMONDS by Jeffrey Littrell

 

when raindrops turn to diamonds

surrounded by the afterglow

of softly whispered secret

meant for only you to know

will you take me down the avenue

of your closely guarded sin

and show me deep inside yourself

to the pain you hold within

 

when starlight fades to blackness

and drapes me in it’s shroud

will you hold me to your bosom

and speak every truth out loud

as laughter turns to magic

and tears to pearls, so bright

will you lift me from the gutter

and carry me into the light


MORNING HAIKU ( NEW DAY ) by Jeffrey Littrell

 

a tangerine sun

ascending, brightly boasting

an epiphany


VAGABONDS RUNNING by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I’m driving back through Frankfort

on our East Kentucky run

Luis is on the throwaway

telling Vassar that we’re done

 

we both are tired of the game

and these Kentucky hills

a life of crime will change a man

moving smoke and meth and pills

 

at first you’re drawn in by the cash

and the adrenaline rush it brings

it sure as hell beats factory work

it’ll buy you many things

 

I met Luis six years ago

when he ran with the Latin Kings

we soon were friends, he shared with me

the perks that this life brings

 

we’re never in one place too long

we cover the mid-west states

in a cherry red Suburban

with stolen Arkansas plates

 

in southern Indiana

are my family and my friends

but everyday’s a blur

of Flying J’s and Comfort Inns

 

we’re driving out of Frankfort

very soon we will conspire

to swap out the Suburban

for my trusty old Sunfire

 

up ahead’s a roadblock

I can see the flashing red

it makes my heart jump in my throat

it fills me with such dread

 

everyday there is the chance

that this job is my last

I’m always running from the police

and my shameful outlaw past


FATE’S LILTING LAUGHTER by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I cannot abide the solitude

turned angry and embittered

by fate’s lilting laughter

 

the silence, deafening

the darkness, luminescent and purple

the torment, etched inside me in indelible ink

 

amid clinking glassware

and the soft-jazz pulse of a martini bar

people chatter and mingle

 

yet there is a clouded vacancy

in all their eyes

if they meet my gaze at all

 

scattered thoughts, disjointed memories

( baby’s breath, seashells, Mateus Rose )

come to mind and quickly flee

 

recollections so surreal

it’s as if it all happened

to some better version of myself

 

leaving me lost

broken and bruised

a casualty to fate’s lilting laughter


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