Contributor: C.V. Ellis

- -
Stubby nicotined fingers
moved rhythmically,
crochet crooked for hours,
possessing a deftness
that belied their round
and rotund posture,
they mesmerized
as colored thread
snaked past her
chubby index finger,
a hummingbird
dining on nectar
forming Bind-offs,
Single-knits, Trebles
as Pineapple Patterns,
Diamonds, Snowflakes,
Granny Squares gave
slow birth to doilies,
afghans, blankets in
pinks, greens, yellows,
blues; a rustic rainbow
of multi-chromatic rayons
bedecked out chairs, sofa
mismatched end tables.

Swirls of blue-grey haze
lingered lazily overhead,
a toxic incense expelled
from an endless chain
of cigarettes, the ever present
Melmac ashtray piled with
asymmetrical mounds of
crumpled paper cylinders
as aged tobacco leaves
were inhaled in ritualistic
endeavor to keep
her demons at bay.
All projects in her life
thrived in cyclic spurts,
filler material to tide her
between...episodes.

A manic madness possessed
her as she crafted for hours
in weathered armchair,
worn from years of placing
elbows and ass
just so, calloused feet
draped over the edge
while over-the-top
soap opera heroines,
toothy game show hosts,
ads for dutiful housewives
invaded the room in varying
shades of grey blaring, droning,
an endless parade of characters,
caricatures, hand models
for soaps that paid
for the soaps.

All habits, every hobby
had a primed directive:
fill the unseen void,
deny the secret truths
of yesterday's patronly
violations, suppress
darkling recollections,
the unwanted recall
of nighttime visitations.
All were archetypes for the
cycles of self-destruction
that claimed her in the end.
There was a prefigured predictability
to it all as days turned to weeks
turned to months 'til time
rolled round for another breakout,
to seek oblivion in a glass.

Then a different pattern emerged,
one of self-immolation as threads,
needles, yarns all quietly awaited
her return...as did we all.


- - -
Charles is a survivor of so many things the telling would fill a book.

Contributor: C.V. Ellis

- -
Life was never
easy for Mildred,
difficult an adjective
of insult.

Labored
obscurely
in conditions
darkly mundane
with a heaping
plate of misery
on the side.

Some would have
slipped into madness

But not her
not Millie
juxtaposed.

Survived on
a regimen of
Solitaire, puzzles,
Crosswords & Camels.

Possessed a
fragile strength,
endured disease,
perpetual pregnancy,
the burdens of
spousal folly,
payday dollars
poured into a glass.

She triumphed
in a losing cause.

Deserving far better
receiving much less
hers was the stuff of
heroic saga.

Her legacy was love.

She passed
in the night
ravaged by disease,
years of misuse...
silent heartbreak.

I stood in my
dress blues
sobbing
like a lost child
as her casket
slipped into
darkness

Saddened
by her loss,
sorry for her life,
for myself,
mystified by life's
cruel ironies

Grateful for
her newfound
peace.


- - -
Charles loves all things literary. He's a survivor of the machinations of insanity and holds a deep, abiding love for his family. Writing has been his salvation.

Contributor: C.V. Ellis

- -
Minutes are hours,
Days are millennia,
Fatigue is an anchor
Chained to my libido

Energy drains like water
Through the proverbial sieve,
All labors are Herculean
While rest is mere fiction

Joy has left the building,
Sleep defies my authority,
Humor is lost and wandering
Like the man in the crowd

Little pills and therapy
Give something like relief,
Yet grief and sadness linger
To hinder full release

Still, the sun rises
For muster and roll call,
So I stumble into a new day
To renew the journey home

It's a wearying journey and long
This slow motion trip,
Trudging through each day
Just to do it all over


- - -
Family is most important; all else pales in comparison.

Contributor: C.V. Ellis

- -
Take my splintered psyche,
Lie down with me in night,
Reach deep into
My black-fog abyss,
Pull me back to
Sanity's door
As I dance with Clarity,
Let me feel your
Velvet breath
Tremble on my nape

Lift off the years of
Pestilence and blight,
Cure the syndromes,
The plaguing signs
That rape and
Mindless abuse
Left behind,
Undo the spells
And Juju curses,
Deify me now
With your caress

Tell me this night
That you alone
Are sent by the Gods,
The agent of Grace, to
Transform my scars,
Heal my Illness
For a brief hour
In shadows of night,
Take me to a sacred place,
Offer release


- - -
I love to read and write and prefer poetry that tells it like it is.
I've been married for 36 yrs. (yes, to the same woman).
I attended San Diego State University.