Where Broken Dreams Go

Courtesy of Morgue File Photo © 2015

Where Broken Dreams Go

When November rains, midnight is calling.

Ravaged by wind, bare maples still standing.

December descends with soft snow falling

The migrant geese come in for a landing.

Hard winter looms with an indignant stare,

Dark clouds taunt as the anger releases.

Cruel lies thrash my skin, pierce the bitter air.

Soul shatters into a thousand pieces.

When twilight beckons with pink shades seeping,

My frantic pulse ebbs with the fading light.

Cold and tired, I have no trouble sleeping.

Time passes unhindered in dead of night.

Bruised hearts heal beneath January snow…

Still I wonder, where do broken dreams go?

Colleen Keller Breuning © 2015

December 16, 2015

The Finish Line

Photo courtesy Morgue File Free © 2015

The Finish Line

Clouds hang overhead

geese crowd the banks

when the rain starts to fall

the farmer gives thanks.

The harvest has passed

with bountiful yields

winter is fast coming

there’s frost in the fields.

Feel the push of the wind

and the bite of the cold

his skin etched with time

bones fragile and old.

But the sky won’t snow

and the sun won’t shine

no more walks in the wood

at the finish line.

See the colors dissolving

in the cold steely sky

as he crosses the threshold

with one last mournful sigh.

Colleen Keller Breuning © 2015

November 24, 2015

Never What You See

Photograph by Colleen Keller Breuning © 2015

Never What You See

Twilight comes early in November cold

     the migrant geese cry and stake their claim

            as I walk in my solitary world

          where darkness rules and light is scarce

and loneliness adds beauty to life.

I have been restless for as long as I can remember

          but there is change in the air

                   there is change in the wind

     fear stirs the stagnant spirit, propels it forward

and the echo of music strikes a chord deep inside.

Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue,

            and broken bones eventually heal

              we cross the threshold from young to old

        masking the hurt, numbing the pain

 but silence is not golden.

So don’t jump to conclusions about the sunset

       its stark light refracting beneath cover of clouds

            hidden bruises bleeding broken indigo ink 

          in beautiful streaks of mottled red and purple

and taints the sky with mixed emotions.

      

The truth is never what you see.

Colleen Keller Breuning © 2015

November 10, 2015

Into The Gloaming

Into The Gloaming

Maple leaves fall to the ground

the wayward geese are roaming

trailing patterns across the sky

as daylight fades into the gloaming.

Be stilled, my passionate heart

the amber sun blinks, then disappears

as the music of Ludovico Einaudi

fills the space between my tears.

Beneath a heavy nimbus curtain

the moon shows papery white

illuminating shadows of my soul

that lie dormant in the night.

The darkness stirs up emotions,

amplifying fears and insecurities

every trace of hope is vanishing

scattered on the bitter breeze.

Memories have a way of haunting

every waking moment, so it seems

when the mist of time blurs my vision

just let me close my eyes to dream.

Colleen Keller Breuning © 2014

October 1, 2014

My inspiration from Ludovico Einaudi, "Nei varci di luce" 

from the album Sotto Falso Nome: