And all peace
to pass understanding
seed in sheath
breath brushed past
remove the body
before Heaven’s brand
Tag: meaning of life
Mood ring
I once put on
to watch the colors change.
And when the colors
didn’t align
with how i wanted things
the ring came off
and drowned in ebony.
And i wash away everything
everything within sight.
To be still in heaven’s light.
And pray tomorrow never comes.
a midwinter god
darkness
our need to understand
the misunderstood
thrashes about
a moonless, midnight path
warning us to be careful with our falling words
dangerous to dwell in the cave
reality morphs into nightmares
forevermore a life balance
derelict actions swallowed up
in the abyss
a worn winter’s welcome
between the narrow path of wisdom
and the unassuming curves of knowledge.
With home in the distance
and the dandelion chains grounded,
i jostle my memory again
dream of days spent carefree.
Watching butterfly wings grace grasses
—grown, in a star’s twinkle
home.
Seeking out salamander’s rock ledge.
Finding fox’s buried bones emerge.
Dipping toes in granite pond.
Stirring grandma in the kitchen.
Windowsill of blue jar pickles.
Pies and noodles baked delicious.
As the cow’s path erodes.
Yesterday, trE posted a challenge to write a nostalgic childhood memory in five words, on her blog: A Cornered Gurl . I took it a step further and wrote a poem as I recalled the magical summers on the farm.
Life is bittersweet. Under the layer of happiness is another layer of grief. And we build the mountains steep.
Two feet
two worlds
two breaths
one girl
Three words
one mouth
one tongue
his love
Written in shadows
ink creased paper, torn into
confetti strewn high
Who can love ever so sweetly
the fragrance of a lilac bloom, midwinter
when the scars of summer subdue
and the fog of autumn morn,
cover the lips forlorn?
Anonymous
wintry wind whispers
wild geese chase away the blues
driftless voices donned
Misshapen and Unaligned
I can’t quite remember
why did i choose the blue shoes
or the ragged jeans
that i have barely worn?
I scour my closet
to find a decent outfit
and ransack the piles of clothes
at the foot of my bed.
What becomes of a woman my age
who barely leaves the house?
I would much rather don pajamas
and surrender my self to endless nights alone.
Ocean
Life teems at the edge
leftovers spilt overboard
new house for taking.
