Chasing My Chaos….

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Novelist ~ Kristy Tallman

Novelist ~ Kristy Tallman

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Happily Ever After

BitterSweet Photography by Jackie Davenport

Happily Ever After

Once I thought, no I believed
in such a thing as happily ever after.
At least that’s what happened in the stories
my mommy told me when I was a little girl.
But as I grew up and older I came to know,
fairy tales were fantasies and dreams
I’d never know or own.

Upon becoming a mother very early in my life
- there were no books, when I told my babies stories.
I’d make up my own – whispers about night faeries
and the sand man who would come steal you in the night
if you didn’t rush off to dream land –
where I’d always be there waiting for them.

Maybe I knew, maybe truth had tarnished me,
or maybe I hoped there was still a chance,
at least for them or maybe I just wanted to be
their happy ending.

I know I still do dare to dream.
For what would my life be
if night ceased to fall upon the land.
Chasing off the sand man and night fairies,
I go in hopes of attaining my happy ending.
I don’t fear the night, how could I do so?
Because I know no matter what unfolds,
my mom will be waiting as I do for my own  
because in the end of every story,
no matter good or bad, happy or sad,
safe or afraid my life becomes,
my mom will be there, waiting just as I,
To be what I cannot attain in life…
my happy ending.

Too many times the fairy tale has went askew,
nothing in my life is what I thought it would be.
So I tossed out the books of unachievable endings,
giving my babies a dash of reality and a desire to sleep,
mixed with what matters most – dreams and hope.
But should ever they find themselves lost,
they’d always know – I’d be there waiting,
I’ll always be just as my mom has been for me.

It’s the one thing you want the most
you never find – or so it seems.
There’s no prince who saves you –
only you can save yourself.
You have to be so strong
to live in this world – to live in life.
You long for things that cannot be,
you know you’d give all the things you have,
if you could just have a happy ending.

The dream – the happy ending that never comes.
Maybe for some, but not for most -
The eternal chase into the night,
where upon your pillow you lay,
you chase away the sandman,
the night fairies, while you pray
that on this eve when you close your eyes,
the dream will give you what you need the most
something that’s fading yet so close
- hope.

Close your eyes baby, you better hurry
because the sandman is coming.
He’ll put dust in your eyes
and you’ll wake up with the night fairies.
A world eternal is the night,
but if you hurry – shhhh now,
close your eyes, find your way to dream
I promise I’ll be there waiting for you
tonight and always; if you need me.

They weren’t scared by my strange tales
if anything they strove to sleep,
the sought to dream as we want our babies to do.
Dreaming, that special place where there
our hearts will find – all they long to know,
all they hope to achieve – that special place,
you know the one, where maybe they’ll find,
their happy ending.

If not as my mom was for me,
I’ll be there waiting for them –
so their fears, tears, harsh realities,
will be kissed and held away by their mommy –
just like me upon realizing how far away
the dream you dream really is.
Or how close we hold it near,
never to see it’s happy ending,
If there’s one even there – no matter,
as there I will be.

Truth – it’s but a dream seemingly so afar
yet in reality so near, so close to home;
yes home and in the arms of your mommy;
so safely she’s there as she’ll always will be –
to catch me – to hold me – to heal me – still –
from all I wished my life could be….

Just as I will be, since truth has tarnished my heart,
I don’t ever wish the same for them,
so I’ll kiss their boo boos, hold them so tight,
never leaving them in death or life –
or just when they close their eyes at night.
I’ll be there always, so life’s truths
won’t break their hearts as it’s done mine –

Yes I know tis but another fairy tale
because only time takes away the pain
when truths unfold, when you learn
happy endings aren’t what you thought them to be.
It’s the bonds of love that keep you strong,
it’s the moments when; so close to home,
you’ll find, always there in the shadows
of letting you go, your mommy there waiting;
because in her ancient brokenhearted wisdom
she knows, just as your babies will too, -

she was the beginning
she’ll be there through the end,
in life or death or just the middle of night,
at least one happy ending they’ll always find
no matter how far they go; be it to your bed
or off into the realities of life,
she’ll always remain – your safety net in life,
for which you can depend, in her,
they’ll always find….

Yours and their happy ending.

©Kristy Tallman – All rights reserved. October 9, 2012

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The Art of Wooing

Your Art Of Wooing….

Wooing tis an art, a sensual crossing of ties,
eyes decent as he looks, into hers so completely,
she searches for the look,the one – which brings forth
a fullness she’s awaited too long to feel,

she sits quietly beside you, always uplifting
and supporting that which she acquired
so distant a time ago, when she dreamed
as a child of innocense of love,

she is an eternal mystery to him,
at each turn he wonders, if he fell from her grace,
for she rules the beauty, there within in her gardens’ delight,
a place he wonders, will she let him walk,

their bodies intertwined lost in the passion that be,
he searches in every touch, every movement of her body
seeking to find that which pleases her
beyond the depths of the angels in flight.

it is the flow of his love through her,
feeling the potion of desire becomes the lost soul,
the heart – she never meant to let go.

yet unattended she grows cold, no blanket to warm her –
to hold her against the chill, that overcomes…
when this wooing – is lost in accomplishment.

it is the reasons she drifts to another world -
a place you once had reason to know,
but alas her heart now caught safely
you lost to the triumph believe -

inside the net, tying now her wings,
only, it is when she is left, to draw dust
upon the shelf of accomplishment;
she withers like a flower in the drifts of snow

she falters in her defense, a shadow now
left to beat alone she falls into the arms of another,
another who finds value in her existence -
another who remembers what you allowed to be forgotten;

as you once seemed to do, enough that your eyes never waiver,
your ear doesn’t turn deaf, to the cries she holds within
awaiting you to save her, from the fall she has taken
with such dying remorse, an empty hole feels nothing.

in search of what she found with you
though never is it the same, she prays of you
to see the through the tears, falling invisibly
to the naked unknown eye..

as the halls are no longer lined,
in erotic artistic emotions,flowing on the tips,
onto a lightly brushed canvas -

tis the art of wooing
each image creating
the woman —

the one soul, who fell in love with you.
not for your stature, or your outward beauty,
she sees only the interal being,
beating of a heart which now she cannot see,

for you hold the brush, as she awaits your strokes
to rekindle the torch, you let turn into
a dimly dying ember, an ember which never stops
needing to be attended to, an ember following the heart’s,

burning,
yearnings,

her the beauty, of the art of wooing
which you the painter, of love and fidelity
are always painting, never to be quite finished,
for should you lay down your brush, her heart would crush

Then upon looking he might find a canvas,
is all the owns, all that shimmers is not gold,
because the art of wooing once kept his lover,
he thought to be captured evermore, inside  his net  -

she’s struggling to free herself,
through someone who will renew, her lost value
in the eyes of the man she dreamed, every dream with,
of the eyes she looked so deeply into

always searching for the beauty -
of your abilities to own her completely
so long as you never lose sight – never stopped stroking,
never stopped painting upon her canvas

your art of wooing……

©Kristy Tallman – All rights reserved.

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On the Inside of Stone

On the Inside of Stone

Walls gather round her –
closing in – no bars
for even sunlight
to let feeling in –
cold – damp and dismal –
this is no way to live.

A self-made prisoner
to something you couldn’t control –
the world won’t get you here –
hell not even the smallest ray
of sunlight pierces through
because the past
is the here and now –
can’t let it go –
can’t break through the stone –

she tries but too fearful
of one persons
casting of your mold
too strong for her to hold –
just a heartbeat away
from death so long as you let
your past be your guide –
the one that leads you
astray from any kind
of thing that seems good –
seems like hope –

no – walls just gather in –
closing tighter than before –
no bars for a small ray of sunlight
to warm your cold broken soul.
she wants to open up
show you who she is
but its a one way street –
only her who will get hurt by doing so –

especially whenever she knocks
no one even will look through
the the proverbial peep hole
the one that would give way
to a vision you might find
inviting – warm –
a chance for escape
yet you don’t want to go –

its easier to shut out feelings –
shut out life that could be
than to blast that crevice in the rock
pounding down the damn walls
that keep you caged.
No one’s gonna take away your pain –
no ones gonna get the chance
to show you not everyone’s the same –
cus when she knocks she doesn’t know
if what she sees on the other side
will ever take a chance at living again –

breathing in fresh air
like most try to do –
she doesn’t ask for much –
no nothing much
but its assumed
she’s asking you to jump
hand in hand off some cliff
deep into the abyss
where feelings dare to tread
to what in his eyes is a sure death
only he doesn’t know what she owns –

inside deeper than seas
hides wings upon
which she’d let you fly free –
free from the cell
you buried yourself in
nothing more – nothing less –
instead walls gather round her
just like his now
no one is free and nothing lives –
a cold damp and dismal –
no way life to live
for either of them –

all they can do is tap on stone walls
signaling to the other in hopes
one will notice and tap back –
until there’s a hole in the wall -
she presses her ear hard against the stone
her hand holds tight against the wall
tears stream down -

tap -
tap -
crack -
harder -
tap -

she listens,
she hopes,
she’ll hear it

the tap back.

copyright by Kristy Tallman – all rights reserved.

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Listen

Listen

silence is a mystery,
unbeknown to me,
a fallen voice from heaven,
unheard by those who strive to hear,
the calling of a lover,
lost somewhere in the darkness,
a kiss follows, a heart beats,
fingers caress the sound barrier
struggling to be heard,
the words fall from the air
drifting silently to the floor,
a cloud of dust rises from the pain,
a gentle breeze blows through the window
but the silence – remains,
the words are so simplistic
though their meaning so profound,
eight letters,
three words,
were they forgotten
or did they just go unheard,
too proud to listen
to the words one never hears,
because silence is a mystery,
lost somewhere through the waves,
crashed upon an ocean’s shore,
I felt the pounding of it’s course,
the words fall from the heavens,
on the tail of a shooting star,
a cool chill fills the air
as the ice freezes the window’s pain,
the words they are so simplistic,
though their meaning so profound,
eight letters,
three words,
one sentence,
one moment….
                hush,

listen to the silence
and all that can be heard,
in the darkness comes understanding,
light to heal your wounds,
eight letters,
three words,
one sentence

shhhhh……
    listen. 

© Kristy Tallman

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