Delving Deeper
Inter self-awareness
I struggle to finish the call
Suspecting fear rather
Than weightlessness
Living in the fringes
Still daring to dream
Build up the circle
Open to reception
Listening for that voice
As it approaches
I turned around to see
The demons behind
Realizing I can empower
Good, by ignoring the fear
Becoming a blue spirit
More innocent and primal
You experience in the
Inbetween state
And you can come back
To overcoe
As I have experienced


© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

I went to a friend's house
One afternoon
And I saw on the wall your
Painting

It wasn't large, but it was framed
In an oak or an ash
Slightly crooked on the wall

As I stood looking
The inviting and simple pattern
Of vertical horizontal, line
Upon line, met my eye

The warm palette stunned me
An eye into your joyful heart
A faceted prism of emotions


© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

I wasn't afraid to be bald
Always had wondered what it would look like short
It was practiced many times in the mirrors over the years
With no real conviction (or perhaps courage?) to change it

Here I am, almost two years later
Again, wishing to have it shorter
Those were easier days
I had every excuse to not care about appearances

There are more important things in life than hair
I hope one day men can see and understand this
Because cancer kills
Male-pattern-baldness does not


© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Almost lost
Your smell
Baby Girl
Shampoo, lotion, fresh laundry

Cannot seem
To find
Baby Girl
Taken, snatched, plucked, stolen

Come back
To parents
Baby Girl
​Safety, encouragement, opportunity, love

© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Painter of the porcelain dame
Clasping the late spring bouquet

Irises caress her rounded chin
As her wandering eyes betray no grin

Luxe off-shoulder gown with lace
Stands out against the greyish haze

A crown of blooms cradles her head
And perhaps, she's a bit coquette

Who was your model, and where did she go?
With a sigh, I suppose, we'll never really know

​

© Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.