Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #5                        Page 47
Table of

I Close My Eyes

Overhead a fan slowly spins,
as the heat of the night closes in.

Beginning of the end or end or the
beginning, not knowing which way to turn.

I close my eyes. I see brilliant blue. Blue
gradually shifts to yellow. It penetrates my mind.

The clicking sound of the fan catches my
attention with the rhythm of snapping fingers.

Two in the morning, and my mind cannot be
quieted. A litany of concerns marching through.

Where do I go from here? Challenges feel more
oppressive at night, fading in and out of sleep.

Again, the fan continues to be my lone companion,
giving comfort in the night, as I watch rotating
shadows stretch across my ceiling.
I close my eyes as overhead a fan slowly spins.

  Ann Christine Tabaka __

Me, Myself, and Solitaire

Playing solitaire on a lazy afternoon
as a patch of sunlight
moves slowly across the floor,
the cat follows it stretched out,
and belly up.

In the monotonous rhythm
of turning over cards in threes,
I catch myself cheating.
I discover the red queen and yell
“off with her head.”
The cat looks up at me and blinks.
She knows that I am mad.

The sunlight begins to fade.
I tire of shuffling cards.
We both become bored
with the mundane.
Cards scatter on the floor with a flourish,
as the cat runs off to hide
under the bed.

I am now left all alone
with me, myself, and I.

  Ann Christine Tabaka __


Walking on a street filled with
lonely people looking downward.
No smiles to be found.

Store window displays staring
back with vacant eyes, like so
many lost souls looking
for a place to belong.

Days racing by like a speeding
train, only stopping long enough
to discharge passengers. Each hour
barely perceptible as they fly by.

Wine drenched memories. Fingernails
digging into flesh. Hair pulled out in
handfuls. The hot breath of doubt
breathing down my neck.

A smile across the face of fear.
At ninety-five miles an hour racing
towards the sun, no one saw it coming,
as the sky opened up to swallow
those left behind.

Unreality has become real, walking
on a street filled with lonely people looking
downward. No smiles to be found.

  Ann Christine Tabaka __


There is no black and white
anymore. Everything is gray
as I wade through Indecision.

I do not remember how to pray.
My knees now fail to bend.
Desperate hands forget how to fold.

The words no longer form in
my effete heart, nor do they
pour forth from my mute mouth.

Emptiness reaching out, searching
beyond a sacred scripture, for a
faith larger than taught words.

Malignant desires, like invasive
vines, overtopping the forest.
Choking out all natural beauty.

Frenetic lives cluttered with
belongings, void of any true value.
Broken beings in need of healing.

An urge to be filled. A question
to be answered. A new spiritual
awakening rising from within.
Broken no more.

  Ann Christine Tabaka __