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November, 2004
Jenn Hartenbower
A Collection of Poetry ~ Vision, There and Back Again, Emerald Isle Musings
Vision
Prisoner
On the street below people and cars go by
Each one moving steadily toward some predetermined point
From a window above she watches the travellers below
But the motion below does not holder her gaze for long
Her eyes are drawn to something else
Bars
The bars just outside the window she sits at
The bars that block pieces of the world from her view
The bars that keep her in
The bars that make her a prisoner
She glares at the bars in anger
They are what is keeping her from the world
They keep her from joining the world of travellers below
They keep her from her own adventure
She reaches out to rattle the bars and release her anger
As he warm hands touch the cold metal
Reality rattled her
The bars were not prison bars
They were part of the railing of the fire escape
The bars were part of an escape
There was nothing holding her back
Or was there
She released the bars as if they had burned her
He blood which had run hot with anger
Now ran cold with fear
Fear
That is what held her prisoner
Not the bars
The bars led to an escape
But would she take it
Could she take it
Fear wrapped itself around her heart like and iron fist
She got one foot on the fire escape and stopped
She stayed there frozen for a long time
Frozen between fear and freedom
Which would win
Which would she choose
Fear or freedom
She pulled her foot back inside
And returned to her room
Fear had won
Now all she can do is lie in bed and weep
Weep and wonder about what marvellous journey she could have made
Instead she allows fear to keep her imprisoned
Today she can still be found this way
Weeping and wondering about what might have been
A prisoner of her own fear
Forever a prisoner
In Dreams
At home she dreams
of far away places
of London, Paris, Rome, New York
At home she dreams
of exotic places
of India, Africa, China, Hawaii
At home she dreams
of new things
of adventure, danger, intrigue, romance
At home she weeps
for dreams that won't come true
for unanswered prayers
She is no longer at home
In London she sees
far away places
the Tower, Hampton Court, Big Ben, Hyde Park
In London she dreams
of home
of Mother, Father, Sister, Brother
In London she weeps
for dreams that come true
for answered prayers
In London she weeps
for home
There and Back Again
Limbo
I feel the ground moving beneath my feet
Back and forth and back and forth
My body sways to the rhythm
To and fro and to and fro
Outside the windows is black
Right and left and right and left
The lights are flickering
Forward and back and forward and back
I panic
Back and forth and back and forth
Am I moving at all
To and fro and to and fro
It's so dark outside
Right and left and right and left
The lights are still flickering
Forward and back and forward and back
The ground is only the wooden floor of the Tube
Back and forth and back and forth
I am not trapped, I am moving
To and fro and to and fro
Time Traveller
The flowers bloom in the gardens
Wandering the foliage-lined paths
I am transported to another time
No longer do I walk among the tourists
Instead I walk alone
Through another time, another place
The day becomes brighter
As does my soul
I stand a little straighter
Walk a little taller
Surrounded by the great Lords and Ladies
I dream of romance from the times of old
I pass a gentleman in the courtyard
He bids me take his arm
We chat a while of this and that
"What a handsome couple they make"
A couple says as they walk by
My dream of romance come true
But alas the day grows old
Gone am I from the world of Lords and Ladies
Once more among the tourists
I bid farewell to the guides who came to know me
I pas through the gates of Hampton Court
Looking back I see the memory of a romance
From another time, another place
Frozen in time
From the River
The trip to Greenwich was beautiful and informative. The guide, while providing valuable and interesting information, was distracting. Between the guide and the blazing sun, I was too distracted to enjoy my trip down the Thames. Returning from Greenwich, on the other hand, was everything I had hoped for. I watched the wonders of London pass by in silence, save the Celtic music flowing through my ears. The wind in my face, I drank in the sights of London. The grey sky accented the wonders of the city, showing me my favorite places from a new perspective. The tip to Greenwich took forever, and I wished for it to end. My return from Greenwich was too short, and I fervently wished its end would never come.
Water flowing
Wind roaring
Grey clouds in the sky
Then is London at its finest
Emerald Isle Musings
Postcard Picture Perfect
The hills are green as green can be
The water clear as glass
Reflects the green land and blue sky
The rocks line the shore
As they have for thousands of years before
The view is
Picture Perfect
The view is so amazing
It belongs on a postcard
Look! There it is
Picture Perfect
The mountains rise from the Earth
Tall, ancient, barren
Formed thousands of years before
Famine walls rise and fall
For no reason at all
Save proof of a wasted life
But the view is
Picture Perfect
The view is so amazing
It belongs on a postcard
Look! There it is
Picture Perfect
The waves crash upon the shore
I feel the breeze upon my skin
From my perch on the mountain top
I watch the sea crash upon the rocks
Reclaiming the land it once held
The wild ravaging war between land and sea
Still the view is
Picture Perfect
The view is so amazing
It belongs on a postcard
Picture Perfect
But only in my mind
Stones
Seven hundred feel below
Sea and shore meet
Seven hundred feet above
Limestone warm and wet
Somewhere in the middle
Life and death meet and mingle
* * *
Lying on the stone
Sky above and sea below
Flirting with danger
Dancing with death
* * *
Written in stone
Cross after cross
Naming those who have walked before
Longing to leave her mark
She takes a stone and walks away
Leaving no visible mark behind
But the stones know
They have stood long before her
And will continue to stand long after
The stones will remember
She took a piece of them
And left a piece of herself
They will remember until the end of time
The Fairy
Weathered and worn
Cracked and colored
In shades of green and grey
Warm to the touch
The stones of the Burren
Upon which I leap
To find my way
* * *
From stone to stone she leaps
Like a fairy dancing on the breeze
On the mountaintop she stands
Still as stone she stands
Her hair and coat billowing in the breeze
Her glimmering wings of red and black
* * *
Tears flooded the land
Rain falling steady
Ireland wept to see her go
As the red fairy wept to leave it
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