grass – WRITE TIME AND AGAIN

A Thousand Miles from Nowhere by K. McMahill

Posted on August 29, 2024March 28, 2025 by L. M. Montes

When was the last time you smelled a rose,
when was that last time you smelt that sweet smell of morning dew or grass after a rain? What would you do if there was one more day, like a last sunset on the winter fire, wishing I had one more day?

Being a thousand miles from nowhere
not knowing where I’ll be tomorrow,
waking up to bruises on my memory. Blood stains all around, the smell of iron and sulfur surrounding me a thousand miles from nowhere…

not knowing who I’ll be.

I try not to call out in the night to the dream that calls my name a thousand miles away. Burning of the bodies is the same every time, burying the pain in the old cold heart, while being a thousand miles away. Wishing and hoping for it to rain like hell, dreaming of a bad day of fishing, wishing I had one more day. Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I weep not knowing why, like I’m dead…but…alive trying to ride but end up falling…

The whiskey can’t bring me back, and I can’t drink it away. I pricked my thumb on the rose I was smelling to see if I still bleed…a thousand miles from nowhere.

Poetry

Without You… by L. M. Montes

Posted on April 30, 2023 by L. M. Montes

I stood barefoot with toes sinking
in poufy grass. A small lake’s lapping
waves clapped ashore with swishing
language speaking freely. Hands placed
themselves upon my shoulders, moved
down my arms to my hands. In one swift
motion his arms squeezed, pulling me
inward. I sank into your muscular chest.
His lips touched my ear, and his voice
whispered a melodic tune of love. I turned
and took his cheeks in the palms of my
hands, gazed into his eyes, then we lifted off
the grass and floated. The air around us
lighted a lavender and blue veil then circled.
“Without you, my love, there is no love. You are
the love within my heart. I pray you stay for-
ever a part of life that’s mine from God above.”

Poetry

Yard Work by L. M. Montes

Posted on March 29, 2023March 29, 2023 by L. M. Montes

As the rain blew down I stood and pouted,
the sun refused to show or be outed,
grass grew up,
and stood corrupt,
I had to cut it because it sprouted.

There stood a barberry bush with pickers,
it grabbed my shirt and everyone snickered,
I took the shears,
there were no tears,
as the pointed picker bush stood tapered.

Autumn leaves changed color then floated down,
nature now stood bare with a winter frown,
they couldn’t stay,
or forever lay,
so rakes whisked by to gather piles of brown.

Poetry

Morning by L. M. Montes

Posted on December 14, 2021 by L. M. Montes

Mist arises from a grave unknown here,
tickling my mind so curiously,
then winds of thought spread far yet hovers near,
covering beauteous scents tapping me.
The sun lifts high and pulls the mist away,
and now grass sparkles on the brink of day,
flowers spotted diamonds of morn’s soft dew
are natures way of mixing its perfume.
A tiny cold nips at the finger tips,
while the sun prickles with warming tickles,
and the ocean of skies set forth the dyes
of bluish color hues as if on cue.
But alas a cloud of gray comes rushing
with storm winds pelting and rains a gushing.