Tag: voice
calm
he makes her wait
goes slow
tears down the wall
calls low
bonded to each other
both grow
Transitions
Back to writing in September is a good feeling. Like a mug of hot something, to keep the cozy from draining into a cold stream, my dreams begin to fly.
A truer voice burgeons
a bubbling cauldron of choice
i claimed red yesterday
but today i dive
into a black pillow
to soothe away the abstract.
My pen no longer idle
the paper no longer clean
i wipe away the tears
and bury the past between
what lies ahead
and stare straight away to dream.
And all peace
to pass understanding
seed in sheath
breath brushed past
remove the body
before Heaven’s brand
The summer
sails by
swift on the wind
too fast
to hold the petalled lips.
Too hot
to absorb the days
the sun sinks.
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.
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?
seasons: a poetic journey 