Winter exists in this quiet realm: The place of spring dreams where from rich loam colors emerge vibrant, as if hope, become a virgin, offered her hand to lessen Winter’s ache enough the wounded reach to touch without wounding in the trying.
merge with the unrepentant sky, learn the truth, the reasons why suffering and fear and hatred abound, feeding upon human souls, destroying what Nature did so elegantly design, the beauty of humanity from the inside out-- until we are devils, our mouths foaming blood-tinged froth while our claws fill with sinew torn from our innocent brethren, who different from us, are deemed worthy only of hate— and the earth turns on its axis of destruction in an unrepentant sky as any God that be cries.
An odd creature, powers through a day, decades, a life. A four chambered survivalist beast, outlasting all fracturing cracks of grief when the spirit, will, mind drift away. In imitation, a four chambered thing beats on and on.
A few minutes every day, at times, stretching into hours, I write to you in this book, writing words whispering mysteries of the winds in the mountains. At times, my words still, shifting, settling then sighing as moonstone white clouds rest, caressing the tops of mountains. I have burned hundreds of ink filled books over these many years when disgusted with the imperfection of my scribbled pages. The heat of their fires never offered much warmth. Now, I save my scribble filled books though you may never see them. Forty-five years, I have written words to you, yet you never knew, and neither did I until this moment.
I decided to repost this piece since in the process of doing a little clean-up work on the blog I discovered the link to this piece was no longer available.
I hold your reflection close, But it slides, evaporating from my grasp, While dripping condensation. My heart stutters with if only’s. My soul begs, pleads, bargains With you to stay. My mind whispers your name, Calling after you, Asking why you are leaving. Are you angry that I told no one Of your blessed presence here? Can you understand I was afraid I’d jinx it? Somehow, I knew— Knew you wouldn’t stay— I felt it from the start. A few weeks only— And you’d go away. My lips whisper. My soul begs. My heart stutters. My body cramps, Clamping down once again. My brain knows it is time. Time to wash the blood and gore away— Time to let your reflection fade.
Dreams fulfilled and abandoned, the wistful whimsical ones of fantasy-- Tears fallen, dried long ago, leaving salt crusts behind, and those never allowed to fall-- The skins of selves I used to be the wounded and scarred the shrunken down inside her skin the sacrificial to survival-- Take these things I freely give, adding all my wishes my dreams my hopes for you. Next, Add all you want, all you dream, all you desire, wish for and hope for in your life Then weave of them a chrysalis bout yourself to cushion and protect as you grow into your own skin. Leave your chains of fear, your yoke of worries with me. I will bury them deep inside my chest. When you emerge, your wings wet and beautiful, you may perch upon the branch of pride growing from my soul to flex and flutter your wings until dry enough to fly, beautiful as you have always been, never to shrink or curl away your wings again.
All shapes of brutish violence, written in sprawling spray of innocent blood. Did Eden ever exist? Every rain of bullets instills doubt. Pray heaven exists for the sake of parents grieving still, their children, bloody sacrifices on an altar to the 2nd amendment.
This is an older poem that I’ve dusted off and changed around a little. The end is entirely new but in keeping with the hike in Colorado that inspired it. I was so struck by seeing the one tree leaning upon the other I did not think to whip out my phone to take a picture of the sight. In that moment of observation of the trees, it seemed a violation to do so.
In the woods two trees stand, equally rooted, firmly in the ground. Yet, as if deciding it a curse of solitude to try and touch a Sky who never reached back, one turned to touch the other, leaning its trunk against its forest mate’s. And so, I found them, standing as lovers, one resting upon the other, limbs entwined in embrace. I lowered my head out of respect mingled with a bit of embarrassment at glimpsing their beautiful intimacy. I turned, walked down the trail, crunching dried leaves beneath the fall of my heavy boots as I continued on among the trees in silence and solitude.
It is the time of grey skies and dead brown grass along the roadsides. The time when the trees are seen shivering, their limbs quivering in their nakedness. When even many of the evergreens drip down brown, bloodied from the lethal knife wounds of a sharpened frenzied freeze as they sag into their deaths. Yes, it is that time of year when I yearn for the green of spring, for limbs to wrap myself within, for a renewal of promises I once longed to make. The time of year when I empty forty years of myself.
clay slapped on the wheel shaped from spinning motion with the control of hands form, substance given before the heat of the kiln then give years of care secured from breaking ends in sharp edged shards broken: mosaic in form
undone in spectacle
An Imaginative Life with MS
Now without semikhah!
Because Sound Bytes Are Stupid
Bring On The Wonder
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Spit mixed with dirt - Muddy words flow
~ Communicator, WordSmith, Artist, Guide, Mentor, Muse ~
Where writers gather
Atmospheric Mind Flow
Driveling twaddle by an old flapdoodle.
stories, poems and more
Poets lie all the time but there are some truths only poetry can tell.
Writing My Way Through Every Obstacle
Now we see through a glass, darkly
The Writer
Just a small town girl who writes about Christian stuff.
Musings on life, love, and healing past trauma
Sharing Poetry and Hugs
Poems, Ramblings and Photography
KL CALEY
Inspiration and Spirituality **Award Free**
Growing with gratitude for life's challenges
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
These are my inner thoughts, passions and inspirations.
An insight to a heart mind and soul.
An onion has many layers. So have I!
To participate in the Ragtag Daily Prompt, create a Pingback to your post, or copy and paste the link to your post into the comments. And while you’re there, why not check out some of the other posts too!
Alternative haven for the Daily Post's mourners!
A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 6,000,000 visitors since 2014 and over 9,000 archived posts.
Echoes of Life, Love and Laughter
Poetry
Showcasing the best of short films and screenplays from the LGBTQ+ community. Screenplay Winner every single month performed by professional actors. Film Festival occurs 21 times a year!
A Discovery of Enlightening Insights, Information, Humor, Writings and Musings
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet and author by accident.
Premium Poetry Page Peskily Pondered Profoundly
Doing the best I can to keep it on the bright side
An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart
A storyteller with a poetic heart
...poetry, stories & rants.
Poetry by Devon Brock
by Lize Bard
Author Aspiring
