Tag: #Metaphor

Tethered

Image is my own

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2021/07/03/weekend-writing-prompt-216-tether/

Lightning cracked the sky today

Very nearly tethering Desire and Want,

Who entwined, rolling from edge

To edge of the horizon—

 

And I walked,

Thinking I’d make it home

Before pelting rain could chill

My heated sweating skin.

 

But I did not.

Clothes soaking,

Wet through—

I made it home,

Trailing water drops

Down the hall.

 

Finally, dry and warmed,

Dressed in fresh clothes,

I looked outside

To find a pink sky,

With clouds tethered

To the earth like me.

 

Fractured Twilight

Image is my own

https://amanpan.com/2021/07/01/eugis-weekly-prompt-twilight-july-1-2021/

Walking in fractured twilight

Is the smoothest time of light and mind–

A wish made–

To braid reality, this curve of light, with sweetest memory

Thus, so entwined

One begins to hope,

Believing in miracles once again

To spite all fractures made of years.

In the Long Ago So It Goes

image courtesy of istock

 

In the long ago

Youth’s armor

Stripping down fates

In acknowledgements

Of ruined selves

Where someplace we lost

The spare threads

To stitch everything back together

And could never touch another

As we once touched the other,

Letting go dreams

Sprinkled with desires

That only served to choke

The future we swallowed

In gulped decades

While watching dreams

Drift and float like the blown off

Heads of dandelions

Until settling into the

Drudgery of what must be done

In the day to day—

No answers exist when

The only answer is

There be no magic here,

No fairytales, no giants,

No forever’s or an eternity

Yet there be no lies,

No castles built on air,

No innocent beings with wings to rip away

In devilish delight,

No trust found broken

In garbage cans.

 

And so it goes.

 

And so it goes,

In essence,

Neither was what

The other really wanted

Resentments the wooden

Puzzle pieces of a child’s game

Tumbled down over us

In crushing weight

Until only the dust

Of us was left

To be swept away.

 

 

My Silent House

 

My house is a quiet house,

Always various shades of silent—

Though Etta blows silky smoke throughout the rooms,

Though Nina tells me that I know how she feels,

Though Storm Large with Pink Martini might ask me to come sway with her,

And, at times, Freddy proclaims we are, indeed, champions,

While the evening news drones mundane atrocities of the world each day

And the dogs may bark, trying scare the workers across the street away—

My house is silent through it all, echoing noise in its quiet way,

An orderly, meandering contented existence does it hold.

The Rabbit

Image courtesy of Unsplash

https://amanpan.com/2021/06/10/eugis-weekly-prompt-nature-june-10-2021

When trying to respond to Eugenia’s prompt this week, this poem, which I posted a couple of years ago kept coming into my head, and no matter how I tried, it would not go away. In this reposting, it is my hope that it serves some purpose. Perhaps, someone will gather something from it.

 

A rabbit stilled,

Motionless, as if frozen

In the summer grass

 

Only her nose twitched, flared

The scent of wrongness–

A touch upon the air,

 

And she knew

Only flight carried safety

Flight, the right choice to make—

If she could only still move.

 

But she could stand only statue still

And standing so, the trap sprung

Steel teeth clamping down,

Slicing through skin,

Chewing through chunks of muscle

As she struggled,

Daring not to scream

As screams would bring the predators.

This she knew too well.

 

The trap now biting into bone,

Her struggles stopped.

Her panting calmed.

Her head rested upon the grass.

One eye looked to a cloudless sky.

She prayed for strength to chew

Through bone.

 

Crescendo

Image is my own

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/category/weekend-writing-prompt/

wk 212 crescendo
 

 

 

Crescendo, sun rise,

Swells an upsurge of color,

Fades too fast for me.

 

Ever loudening,

The business of the day trades

Scenes of memories.

 

Diminuendo comes,

An end, a small death of colors

As day slowly fades.

Dawn

Image courtesy of Pinterest

 

Clouds drift in night’s sky,

Stretching,

As if yearning,

To touch the horizon,

Dawn yet hours away–

She neither “walks in beauty

Like the night” as Byron wrote

Nor does she stand upon a scallop shell

Riding the sea foam to shore

As Botticelli painted—

     No, nothing so over done

Simply, she rises, flaming

Over the desert mountains.

Lingering

 

 

The silk of waking

To dreams yet dreamed

Linger in the sky

Adrift in gray clouds

Carrying visions of possibilities

That yet may be

All Things New

Image courtesy of Dreamtime

Storm clouds rode in

Upon a sky soaked in sunset red.

Wildflowers bowed their heads

Down on either side

As I drove by

Smiling, thinking of all things new.

Once home, I stood in the yard,

Arms akimbo, welcoming the new—

What the storm, the wind, the rains

Would bring—

As gently as their nature could—

All things new, clean, green

With spring.

Scars of Hope

Image is my own

I gather hardened scars of loss and damage
Braided into keloid beauty
That are not blossoms of bitterness,
But fragrant beauties
That make me who I am.
Even the bars of your barren garden
Called love could not steal away
The essence of my hope.
Instead, the black, barrenness
within sugar syrup words
Of one never able to love
Contain no acid
To eat away
My skin of hope.