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Friday, September 30, 2011

Bubble Stuff

Bubble Stuff

a gentle storm of glistening 
glowing gossamer orbs
sprays into the air   
shiny tiny spheres mixed 
with larger circles float for the 
moment    evaporate 
amid child-giggles and squeals
small hands grab at luminescent
globes drifting just beyond their reach   
as sunlight sparkles over the 
round rainbows they pursue

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Over A Cliff

I am unable to 
connect the dots that form
a whole picture of
this mess who is my son.
Stories conflict   plans are 
made   then unmade   maybe
never made at all   just
fabricated in his
quest to manipulate
my world   insinuate
himself back into a
position of power
from which his illness will
infect me   bring me once
more into the cyclone 
of co-dependant craziness
he so craves and that would
drive my life like a run-
away bus straight over
the edge of a steep cliff.
© cj Schlottman - 2011

Friday, September 16, 2011


Bruised   broken   bound by our
own sinew   traps & tie-downs   
we share souvenirs   sores
of love lost twisted with
spikes of hope.
We circle this thing between us
poke it with sticks   prod it
test it’s toughness   measure
it’s mettle.
Scarlet stains of sadness
tattooed on our hearts   we step
back   stumble forward   gauge
the heat of the bonfire.
Its flames in turn rage and
smolder   reflect yellow-blue
in our eyes   warm our faces
as we leap into the blaze.

© cj Schlottman  2011

LInked to Gooseberry Garden

Friday, September 9, 2011

Your Crooked Smile

There are times when I am 
moved to tears   cannot hold back
the sadness or joy that
catches in my throat   steals
my breath   chokes the words I
intend to say out loud.
The sound of your Texan’s
brogue   your bourbon laced breath
move me to open my 
heart   spill it over you
in kisses   caresses
I save for you alone.
Memories of loss move
me to the edge of
sanity   only to 
loosen their grip when you 
appear in dreams   wake
me with your crooked smile.
© cj Schlottman
September 09, 2011

Thursday, September 1, 2011



I see my world through gauze curtains 
wafted by fog tumbling over 
itself into the corners of my brain.
Behind my eyes a carousel 
of blurred images swirl
to organ music piped into my ears.
Hints of smoke filter through my nose
riding on the memory of a 
skirt aflame   engulfing my leg.
Thunder rattles my drowse   winds blow
through the curtains   snatching them down
   their remnants strewn across my bed.
I drift from sleep to consciousness
   nausea strikes from within   pain
emerges from behind the screen 
of Lortab.
Attacked by unseen torches    my 
wounds reignite   scorch my flesh anew
   send tears sliding down my face.
I taste their salt   reach for the bottle
   wait for opaque curtains to once more
surround me   hide me from my pain.    
© cj Schlottman
August 30, 2001