Seasons Chapbook

Message to the reader

If you are reading this then I want to say thank you for taking time out of your day to read what I have written.

I appreciate any and all feedback that you have. Even if you don’t read poetry, I would still like to hear your opinions so things like what you liked or disliked, parts that work or don’t work or even just feelings about things e.g  “this word/phrase/sentence sounded weird”, “I don’t understand what this means”, “I like this part”, “this poem/part/section doesn’t fit”, “I don’t know why but I don’t like this poem.”

I appreciate any criticism to help improve my work. I have also set it so that people can suggest changes as well so you can highlight sections and write comments if you choose.

Alternatively, you can message me if you just want to chat about the work. Also, if you have any questions about anything written here then you can also message me and I will be happy to explain what I’ve done and why.

So thanks again.

I hope you enjoy this project,

Rexolotl

Seasons

Summer

Red Plums

Her favourite fruit was red plums.
Every day she would pluck plums from the tree outside our house.
She would stop and stare, looking for perfection.
“Perfect plums are the sweetest”, she would say.
Imperfections and inconsistencies were not permitted.

She used to smile as she bit into the flesh.
Tearing as she pulled away.
Juice running down her jaw.
Teeth stained a deep hue.
The pit spit out into the garden.

I remember her lipstick.
Her lips an angry red
against her pale skin.

I remember her mouth,
wrapped around her words
like they were a plum,
as she tore pieces from me.

I remember her hands,
balled into fists,
unclenching to grab a final plum,
as she left me in the garden.

Heat

I remember it all.

The sun burned
through the clouds.
Cancerous.

I burned with it.

The light shone,
harsh and cruel.
Blazing.

I let myself be blinded.

The wind blew
with arid intensity.
Brittle.

And I was carried away by it.

I remember it all.

But do you?

Burn

I came in burning.

Doused my memories in whiskey
and set fire to them.

Scorched your pictures
on the wall.

Took scissors to your wardrobe
and incinerated the shreds.

I left burned out.

Lost

A day lost.
Like you woke up at noon and went back to bed.

Time lost.
Like you made a decision you wish you could take back.

Moments lost.
Like a photo album in a burning house.

Life lost.
Like you never came home again.

Forgotten

A midsummer’s day
in a house that lacks warmth.

Dust settles
in the cracks and crevices
where the sun
no longer reaches.

Fruit flies swarm
the kitchen
as red plums rot
on the counter top.

In the corner
covered in blankets
lays a person
fully clothed,
clutching
a tear mottled pillow.

Was it always like this?

Autumn

Still

Your coat
sits on a chair
in the corner.

Your chair.

It stayed
when you left me
behind.

I stayed.

I tried
forgiving you
but I can't.

My fault.

I glance
at the bookshelf
on the wall.

Our books.

Your favorites
are still
there.

But I am here.

I am still here.

The Fall

The descent comes quickly.
Like auburn leaves,
no warning,
just the wind rushing
past as you fall.

Peace comes
when the senses overwhelm
and feeling goes away.

Stillness.

The ground rushes up,
eyes closed,
feels like flying
but which way is up?

When the bottom is this close
does it matter anymore?

Decay

Darkness comes
and the lights
that used to guide the way
have dimmed.

The stars have all been extinguished
and the heavens
speak to me no more.

I cannot bear to listen to them anyway.

No sights.
No sounds.
No thoughts.

My mind drips with tar.
Sickly and grim.
Putrid and thick.

Nothing in.
Nothing out.

A stagnant pool that shows no reflection.
No remnants of what once was.

The remains of decay.

Rest

It’s kind of peaceful down here
Away from it all
when the world has rotted
and the silence remains

There’s comfort in the nothingness
A sense of calm after the storm
as debris settles
and the skies are open

But it’s empty

Nothing around
Nothing to see
Nothing to feel

It’s easy to get lost down here
where staying takes little effort
Where the climb back out
exhausts what little you have left

It’s easy to stagnate
in a place where the rivers have stopped running
Where moving again is a terrifying prospect
but it’s not forever

The only thing we can do
is to rest up
and try again

Sober

I told you I'm getting sober.
I'm tired of drinking you in and feeling hungover.

The weather’s getting colder
and I'll miss when we were closer
but we need this to be over.

I need this to be over.

Winter

Pieces

I tried to pick up the pieces
of the life we once lived.

Tried to put them back together
using the same frame.

But times have changed.

The frame
that we had once made
no longer fit me in it.

I kept some pieces
for old time’s sake.
Kept some for lessons
but the rest I left back there.

Honestly,
I hope you did the same.

Change

Promises made and promises kept.
I promised I would never change
but in retrospect
it was something I could not do.

I wanted everything to stay as it was.
I wanted the wheels to stop turning
but the harder I applied the brakes
the more things kept burning.
Until all that was left were ashes
of something that once was.

Now all I can do is
scatter the remains,
move on
and hope something grows again
in the place where change came
and never left.

Seeds under snow

I wrote a poem for Winter that turned into Spring.
I guess the funny thing
is that we can't predict
where or when something will begin or end.
We just have to take it as it comes.
Not run when it gets too hard
but try to overcome.

Lessons hidden in the hardships
like seeds under snow
that will one day grow
into whatever they imagine.

Colours

Don't get lost
in the colours
in your mind.

It's hard enough
to find
the way

when the days
get longer
and blues blend

with yellows
and reds bend
over the horizon.

Check if your
lights are on
before night comes

or you might
be stuck with
no way home.

No way to know
which way to go
or path to follow

Until you've gone
too low
that the only way is up

Back through the
colours in your mind
until you reach morning
again.

Spring

Starting over

Where to begin?

Rebuilding

Everyday feels like Monday evening
where relief is painted with a layer of blue.
Where shadows in the house seem foreign
and the walls bring no comfort.

So we rebuild.

Small things at first.
Cleaning
Sorting
Planning

Little by little.
Step by step.
We use what we can.
Nothing is certain
and that’s ok.

We take the posters down
and start again.

We take the books from the shelves
and start again.

We repaint the walls
and start again.

The changes bring challenges.
Nothing is easy
and that’s ok.

We move through it all
and keep going.

We keep rebuilding.
Little by little.
Step by step.

Bloom

Storms come and go
leaving behind
the beginnings of life.

Flowers bloom
where they can.

Whether planted by steady hands
Or displaced in a different land,
Whether name brand and store bought
or homegrown as an afterthought,
it's not always for us to understand
but rather to learn.

Not all that’s promised comes to pass
and that’s ok,
because if a dandelion can find a home in a sidewalk crack,
so too will things be alright.
Hardships come like hurricanes in the night
but like the dandelion,
bloom after the storm.

Spring Sonnet

I found life in the green of your eyes,
a warmth I had not known for some time,
like summer rains under blue skies,
yet as a flower blooms, so too does it die.
Thus is the nature of all living things,
to live, to nurture, to fall
but I had hoped that through it all
I would be sustained by your gaze of Spring.

However, it could not be
for the paths diverged and so you went on,
I found myself waiting to see
if our paths should cross at another dawn.
So left here as I am, to wilt away,
grateful to see at least one day.

What becomes of dreams in the morning?

Dawn is drawn across the sky
and breaches the seams of the horizon.

The sun’s light erases the stars
as they fight to be seen for a moment longer
but the focus of closed eyes is on the dark.

And when we wake,
the fragments of dreams
lose their meaning.

The magic lost for a time,
but not forever.
As long as night comes
there shall be dreams and dreamers
to populate the night sky once again.

To give stars back to the inky black
and light the way for those that can’t.

Lost momentarily
like dreams at dawn.

Summer

(Epilogue)

Don’t forget your roots

The harvests after the floods
are the richest of all.

Though things may seem
lost
hopeless
impossible
if you can weather the storm
you may find growth greater than what you had before

Young trees bend
but do not break

They grow stronger
with each passing day

They nourish their roots
until they are safe

They look after themselves
in whatever way
they can

Keep growing
Keep learning

Storms come but they also pass.
They’re fleeting things never made to last.
So endure the worst when it comes along
for the best comes after the storms are gone.