Cindy Prochnow

art, mosaics, poetry and prose

cindy Prochnow

cindy Prochnow
Minnesota, usa
March 17
My poems reflect, sometimes, what I am feeling, or seeing, and sometimes, what I see in others and their lives. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible." St. Thomas Aquinas XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX "The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun." Unknown xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx" Before you were conceived, I wanted you. Before you were born, I loved you. Before you were here an hour, I would die for you. This is the miracle of LOVE." Maureen Hawkins xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "Looking in the mirror isn't exactly a study of life" Lauren Bacall xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Be anxious for nothing, but in prayer...let your requests be made known to God. Philipiansxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "Cultivate your curves- they may be dangerous, but they won't be avoided." Mae West axxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


NOVEMBER 11, 2011 11:46AM

Alone on whiskey row

Rate: 1 Flag

Alone on Whiskey Row 

 Sometimes I see her in the uptown crowd,

Staring at drunk men who are talking  loud,

Leaning against brick walls by saloon doors

As  rust-colored whiskey from their bottle pours.

Sometimes I see that lady, with ashen face.

She checks out the shape of every chin line

As though searching for an old love, so fine.

She runs her finger through her tasseled hair,

That years ago was styled with such care.

Time has marked her face with every line,

Although, a spark within those eyes shine,

Past spirit and passion ran full and wild,

But also, a pure innocence,  as that of a child.

Sensuality, surely dried up as a lost river bed,

As  laden heart holds hurt for what was said,

Chilling her being from winters spent alone.

There is no knocking at the door

No ringing of her phone.

So slowly she climbs the steps to her place,

Studio apartment, windows covered in lace.

In bed, that bottle is comfort,  

Just for tonight.

Written by cindy Prochnow  2003

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Your poem is so gut wrenching, I'm just glad it's not about you. You paint a very clear portrait of a life gone wrong with this poem, Cindy.
Hi Sarah, forgot to write that it was a repost. I can be a depressing sort huh? lol. As in painting and music, words are to create a feeling.Thanks.