Shattered Mind

I look into the mirror
only to see
an empty frame of broken pieces,
images of me.
A blank reflection of white emptiness
and big hollow letters
of a soundless scream- that
ricochet through the
endless depths of my mind-
till I can't see
and myself, I cannot find...

Our own fairy tales

We all create a fairy tale at one
point or another. It's a place we go
to more often than we think we do.
Within the safe rooms of our
guarded castles, we come and go
freely upon our conscious levels.
We bathe in the magical pools of
touché wanderings where wantings
and lust linger within the fringes of
treaded desires.
Our castles; heavily clouded with
Armored Knights, leaving no
opening for intruders. Only those
we covet in our daydreams, our
night dreams.
In our magical places we can be
who we want to be. We can be
beautiful and out of reach. We
can be the one that everyone
stops and stares at.
We can be powerful and
sensuously evil.
In our fairy tale- we are a delicacy.

Jordan's Playground

The day before- the Heaven's cried,
bearing anew for a child's vernal life.
The next day was beautiful- the sun
shinning high, for the Angels sang softly
'Hush sweet baby, don't you cry. Take
my hand and we'll fly up high to that
big playground way up in the sky.'

A new journey to begin from her
budded life, to bloom in Heaven under
God's watchful eyes.
'Come child- with your eyes so wide,
you can run and play...but please
don't hide!'

Walk through the clouds, explore the
rainbow, climb the golden rays that
lead to the sun. Dance and sing around
your favorite hunny pot. Spin and spin
around on your toe. Look down from
the clouds and give us a smile-
Jordan, everyone loves you so…

In Loving Memory

Jordan Ann Smith
December 30, 2003
February 27, 2005
©Jamie Edson Opielski

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