Lynn Stillman Poems

Don't forget, that I remember
the real person that you are.
You are the one, who will start
talking behind the back of
...

Once, the hands of the clock
seemed to gently caress my face.
Reinforcing the reassurance.
My tears, not yet mature enough
...

I step into the night sky,
I find a path of stars
to walk across.
The path seems familiar to me.
...

The night,
so endless.
Having such an apathetic influence
over the conscious mind.
...

Where are you from?
Why are you so fat?
You are not the right color.
What kind of a name is that?
...

At fifteen years of age,
you are born.
Born perhaps prematurely,
into manhood.
...

Tonight I lie wide awake in my room.
Too afraid of the horrific dreams,
that plague me.
It gives me too much time to think.
...

My heart is just about done.
It has been steeping in generous amounts,
of pain and anger
for so long now.
...

Breaking and entering,
no heart is safe from this crime.
You invest all you have in trusting another,
your hopes, your dreams and precious time.
...

Innocence dies so young,
when guns are brought for show and tell.
Will we recognize heaven,
if we cannot see that war is hell?
...