Childhood Memories

Cut fresh flowers
And
Home baked bread once
Restted upon my
Kitchen table-
Some childhood memory
Of when my father
Was in school and
My mother happily
Hummed sweet tunes
Drowned out by the vacuum cleaner,
Cleaned my room, or just took the
Time to play games with me.
She stopped humming tunes
Years ago,
Or making bread,
My father works
All day and night and the vase
Is always empty now.
My nights are sleepless.
Every night when my father
Comes home,
He and my mother
Begin to fight,
Exchanging words
Of betrayal and deceit towards
One another until the break of day.
If I could I would bring back
My childhood years,
When life was simple and serene,
And sounds like my mother’s humming
And even the vacuum cleaner running
Would be a welcome sound, for if that is t he
Only jarring sound one can here nowadays
No matter how loud and bothersome
It may be,
It brings back happy
Childhood memories and
Some cut fresh flowers would be nice to see
If they only could be kept alive….

Claudia Krizay


Patiently I sit awaiting the stars and moon to rise tonight.
To be cradled within a crescent moon shall be my reverie,
Capturing a shooting star or falling in love
For the very first time
Could be daring and maybe dangerous.
I would throw that star back into the midnight’s sky
As my thoughts meander to the idea of love and loss.
A dream can be an adventure as many say
Of falling in love, although
I have never been in love before, and love,
Has been said to be a hurt deeply felt.
I will not hold onto a shooting star and shall just let it pass me by.
Some say that stars that shine before their eyes
Are fireworks or falling in love.
To me they mean pain as if someone has harmed me.
I shall remain in the safety of my own home tonight.
My home is filled with the amity for my own creations and a padlocked door to
Keep the demons out.
As I drift off to sleep and as each star fades into the midnight’s sky,
In thought I shall find peace in my own small world.
If I do not wake, and this is a final sleep,
I will not know,
For as my sleep may carry me home someday,
I shall always be the artist and the creator of my dreams.

Claudia Krizay (schizoclaud)