The Leaving

My word

Against yours

Long nights of no giving in

lost hours with nothing being said

No smiles

Only anger

Subtle sighs


Your move

Not mine

Your mind has been made up

Your decision is to move on

Wordless thoughts

Never spoken

No Goodbye


Sitting alone

Empty house

Only memories stir in this place

Nights are long and colder now

Empty rooms

Empty thoughts

Empty heart

© D J Loweman 2015

Letter From The CCWF

It’s been a bit of a rough morning

I didn’t sleep well

I was blessed by god, with a broken back

Not truly broke, but not in good working order

These damaged nerves, sciatica is to blame

So I spent the morning hobbling around

Aided by an often needed cane

Finally, I succumb to the pain

And down some Advil

These little helpers who will tear at my gut all day long

Last night I made plans for today

I was going to ride my bike

To a recently discovered marsh

I had planned on spending the whole day exploring, writing

And drinking some wine

I get so excited about these new finds

That I pace my house all night

But, as it often goes

My back doesn’t feel like cooperating

I’m left bent and only a shade from crippled

So while the meds kick in, I wonder around, looking for something

Anything, to waste my time

I finally decide on reading yesterdays mail

I skim past the bills and useless realtor sales pitches

Until I come across a hand written envelope

Addressed from a friend, and sent from the CCWF

A friend, who I haven’t seen or heard from

In a painfully long time

They caught her in ’09

trafficking, they said

She loved the pills

So much so, that I have trouble believing

She would ever give them up

Yet alone sell them

But they got her

And she’s been parked in Chowchilla, California

Pretty much ever since

I had trouble reading it

She was the last person I expected

I would be catching up with, this morning

She wrote of how she had been

And how she was sorry she hadn’t written sooner

She writes of our times camping and hiking

And how she hopes I’m still at it

Finally, she closes with a line

About how she would like to hear from me

She still has a long time, ahead of her

And I wish I could speed that up

After I finish the letter

I make my way to the typewriter

I sit down, and put in a piece of paper

But nothing comes to mind

Too many things to say

And all this causes more discomfort

So I get up, without thinking

Grab the backpack I packed last night

And head out to the marsh

I need to clear my head

And cloud it, all at the same time

She would enjoy this spot

I just know it

And I’ll finish my letter to her

By telling her, how we’ll see it together

When she gets out

Sometime after 2029

© Dicky J Loweman 2015


The Green Around This Place

The area we’re in is green

Tree’s everywhere

Ain’t it just like a hospital?

To try to make you feel calm?

Who here is calm?

Nobody wants to be here

It’s only one peg above a funeral parlor

But, do your best

The best you can to keep it under control

Your temper, is all up to you


Straight and narrow

No drinks

No fun

Just wait for the prognosis

And hope for the best

There’s hope left in that

© Dicky J Loweman 2104



The Ugliness Of This Street

I walk down the street and the ugliness is everywhere

It drips from the trees and belches in exhaust form from the cars

I can hear small chatter from passer-by’s

Their quiet squawks are going to be the death of me

I’d like to kick them square in the face

For what it’s worth, I’d like to leave this place

Find a deserted beach or maybe a desolate mountain top

This, of coarse, is just a crack pipe dream

There really is just no way out

Stuck here

To wither, spin and slowly dissolve

Breaking away from any chance of a sound piece of mind

Like a dock being ripped from the shore during a storm

This place is like a slow cancerous death

A beast that grows and torments from the inside out

Slowly eating at my brain and causing this mind-numbing hatred

I believe this is what drives men to kill

This makes for a very long and lonely walk

I walk down the street and the ugliness is everywhere

© Dicky J Loweman 2014