Remembered Kisses

Nervously, my innocent lips seek out Chris’ darting tongue in the dark.   1976

Paul’s hands on my face, pressing against me with immediacy, when I walk into his house.  2008

Gingerly holding Heather in my arms, I put my parched lips softly on the top of her newborn head, while a tear of joy escapes. 1984

“Pucker up” my dad says, as he gently tucks my sister and I into bed. We giggle to his silly singing, “make a magic circle and mark it with an X.”  1966

Chivas and cigar smoldering kisses from Rich.  His eyes remain stubbornly open.   I learn too late that his heart remains closed.  2001

Taking control of Mike with my kisses, I convince myself that he turns me on.  1979

Vernon’s lips graze mine, over and over again, becoming stronger, he looks deep into my eyes as we collapse at the moment of truth.  2009

The kiss I could not give; damned by the mask, leukemia, hospital rules and my dear mothers’ abrupt death.   2009

Sad Mom Moment

Mom & I

Mom & I



        Sad Mom Moment

        D. J. Hall – 06/24/09


Having a sad mom moment

Thoughts of the sweetest smile bring

A painful tenderness to me.

I miss her.


Quick to laugh at her own mix-ups

Scattered at times.

Patient and kind

She always forgave me mine.


Having a sad mom moment

Her spirit inside me,

Breathes through me

I want her.


Bright warm eyes

Deep in thought.

Concern for others

Above herself.


Having a sad mom moment

A sorrow never felt

While she was here.

I  need her.


Willing gentle listener

She read emotions

Wrapped under words

Wise in the ways of empathy.


Having a sad mom moment

Somehow comforts and reminds me

How blessed my life has been.

I love her.

Reflective Pond

>Reflective Pond
D.J. Hall (August 2007)

Search for hidden pond
With an eager anticipation
For a successful expedition

Opportunity for abundant fishing
For answers, blue gill, our emotions unraveled.
Propels us through a path less traveled
Traipsing mile after mile in summer’s humidity
Past endless rows of sunny simplicity.

Yellow faces watch in silence as we feel
Relentless dampness seep from pores at
Neck, cleavage, face and arms, as the
weight of the chaos I have created
continually trickles through my thoughts.
Much like the unremitting, infuriating mosquitoes.
Threatening to drive me crazy.

Onward, our heavy feet trudge, through a
Midwestern field full of tall grass and ticks
Accompanied by droning honeybees and
Annoyance of horseflies, heat and his enthusiasm.

Sulking, I discover beauty beneath the surface.
Like many other spheres of life,
I find a hidden eco-system at the edge of the pond,
Woven between the algae, guppies and tiny frogs.
As I sit and fume about my discomfort, misery and him
is the certainty that we, too, are intermingled.
Energy, fate, force or whim
Compels me to accept the reality that I had
attempted to submerge.
The certainty that I believe in our love, our future,
and that our affections will once again resurface.

Under Attack

>Under Attack
D. J. Hall (April 2007)

Sense of self-expression, thoughts and ideas.
Picked apart, scoffed at, rejected.
She allows herself to be neglected.
Their conversation turns to debate.
A simple question raises provocation.
Divorced, displanted.
New man. Strange love
Now taken for granted.
Her life made a mockery, daily rebuke feels like puke.
She knows keeping her down raises him up.
Children grown and away. Now time to play.Accept no longer this mourning, this hunger.

Past Tension

            Past Tension

                          D.J. Hall 


The Past is a root that spreads, swelling between us.

A source for constant state of upheaval.

Mistakes, deception and cruelty are a sickness.

The smallest faults expand, proliferate.

The Past is unwilling to forgive or obliterate.


Two souls of different spirit, psyche, strength.

Attempt to move forward together

Continual to struggle.

Where is my spine? Where is his heart?


His thoughts are so deep

They are drowning me.

His philosophy is so stoic

It smothers me.

His systematized style is so uptight

It stifles me.


He says

I should be more

Frugal. Fluent.

Intellectual. Prudent.

He says

I should be less

Generous. Scattered.

Passionate. Stupid.


Instead, I am

Confused. Convictionless.

Uncertain. Unwilling

To change.


The Past, in its wary way,

Is a destroyer of destiny.

Creating dreams only to be demolished.

Our Past eliminates Our Future.


>His View

>His View
D. J. Hall (November 2007)

His thoughts are so deep
They are drowning me.

His philosophy is so stoic
It smothers me.

His systemitized style is so uptight
It stifles me.

He says
I should be more

He says
I should be less

Instead, I am
To change.

Linear Momentum July 2008


A brief poem using the word LINE.  


His inflexible line of sight

Visualized an unobstructed horizon

Which held a tender morsel

A bee line was made

To that sweet one.


Knowing she drew outside the lines

His line of duty was relentless.

Forcing her to toe the line

In order to stay in line!


The lines of demarcation blurred

When he crossed the line

That proverbial boundary breached

Partioning their affection.

Divided they fell.


A strict line item veto yet again

Of her offer of unlimited lifetime

Credit line of love.

Became promptly past due…

Debtors prison for him.


The tempest gained strength

As the squall line screamed

Bloody Hell!

>The Past – (January 2008)

>The Past wavers between us causing a constant state of upheaval.
Mistakes, deception and miscommunications are a sickness.
Minute, minimal or moderate errors never obliterated.
The Past is unwilling to be forgotten.
Unable to be forgiven.

Two souls of different spirit, psyche and strength.
Attempting to move forward together will continually struggle.
Where is my spine?
Where is his heart?

The Past, in its wary way,
Is a destroyer of destiny.
Creating dreams only to be demolished.
The Past eliminates the Future.

The Future is so easily forgotten.
When fate is fixed.
Ah, but The Present remains my focus.
As I am habitually stuck in limbo.

D.J. Hall
January 2008


Hello to the bravado of my newly found voice!
That discontented and discouraged sound simpering deep in my consciousness is now saying goodbye to the fear of speaking the wrong thing… and hello to the courage to speak the truth as I see or feel it.  The beauty and strength of being a woman is our ability to be every changing in the many stages of our lives. From our youth through our mature years, we are ever- interchangeable and able to adapt to what life puts in our paths. Throughout the good, the bad and even in the direst despair, we reach out to our friends, nurture our family and give without bounds to the ones we love the most.