Category Archives: original poetry

Ruth Ann Scanzillo 1975 – present; all rights reserved.

Gather Ye Red Flags.

 

Gather ye red flags while ye may, lest they smother ye at once.

The girl was some blonde.

Looking at him, smirking, thinking the whole scene too amusing.

The fact that he’d called the blonde his “cousin”?  Two bright red flags, a-whipping in the wind.

But, she had not set face into the wind.

Gather ye red flags while ye may, lest they smother ye at once.

Next came the ones who, calling out his name in greeting, emerging from the restroom at Target or while walking up the street to the arena, she and he a date. Who does that, to somebody’s date?  Two, at once, seemed everywhere.

Always the point, a back story, from him. Tale of yet another he had seen for just a “couple months.” Red flag, number three.

Gather ye red flags while ye may, lest they smother ye at once.

Then, the burner phones, near the kitchen tray, some excuse about retrieving dog pix.

The dishes for two, stacking in the sink.

His wandering eyes, the ones that twinkled.

Six flags. Amusement park of fair warning.

Gather ye red flags while ye may, lest they smother ye at once.

Then the foghorn, in the bathroom drawer. Set for 6:20 a.m., alarming on his one day off. She’d never seen a clock in that drawer, and she’d seen everything in that drawer. She’d seen the sleeve of false eyelashes appear in that drawer. But, the clock, never in that drawer, not before that morning.

Gather ye red flags while ye may, lest they smother ye at once.

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© 10/9/19    Ruth Ann Scanzillo.   All rights those of the author, the stooge, the beard. Steal at your own risk. He’s everywhere.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

 

 

 

Easier.

 

[first draft]

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Easier to sleep than stay awake.

Easier than giving, always take.

Easier to hide than show your face

Easier than moving, stay in place.

Easier to blame than make amends

Easier than breaking that which bends

Easier to quit than ever try

Easier than living, slowly die.

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© 8/21/19   Ruth Ann Scanzillo      All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. Thank you for respecting original material.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

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Where Does Love Go?

 

Where do you put

The love that you have

Where is its place to go?

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How can you hold

The loving inside

When will you ever know

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Who will receive

So grateful to take

Needing what you can give

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How can just one

Take without giving

How do they both then live?

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Where does love go

When given and gone

Will it not be returned?

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Where does love go

Does it die like death

Once afire to be burned?

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© 8/17/19   Ruth Ann Scanzillo     All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. Thank you for respecting original material.

Love, littlebarefeetblog.com