A scribe dips a sharpened quill
into the red ink well,
addressing the naked need
for barbed wire
fences of words
to create barricades
in red.
Next, weaving starts.
Words to cushion,
Kevlar words,
preventing of any element
from penetrating
and thus, creating
need
want
desire--
For such things burn,,,
dangerous when they
trespass the Kevlar
of red ink the Scribe
fashions with her sharp quill—
Words of arm’s length,
only so far, no farther,
Step back
Back away
Turn away
Words of red
to always protect--
Woven into blankets, vests,
a house, never to be a home.
golden promises
shimmer in summer’s sunlight
somehow cozy now
think eternity
somehow cozy, snuggled in
velvet lined starlight
as
earth turns toward fall
no comfort of faith
within Fatima’s secrets
I envy the monarch’s, the hummingbird’s arc of return, infinite, eternal. My jealousy consumes as I have no return, no cycle— Only the damnation of this linear thing, finite, directionless.
Close the blinds
against the grey light.
Prepare a cave for the soul
in cold January
as the wind rages.
Contemplation, prayer
like John of Patmos?
This cave
readied, awaits
the apocalypse
devils wish.
Originally written for Sammi Scribbles Weekend Writing Challenge- Using Question in exactly 84 words but I didn’t get back to edit it down until today.
Questions hang in the air
Like heavy coastal fog
On cool autumn mornings
Eternal questions of humanity:
All the whys, the wonderings--
Never answered prayers--
Laying pressed between the
Pages of a book like brown,
Dried flowers—forgotten,
Having lost their sentiment.
Speak the differences
Among roses, weeds, wildflowers—
Inconsequential answers
For inconsequential questions.
Could sense of counting
Out the hours be sliced
Like blood, blooming meat
To find truth absolute
Like high priestesses of old,
Scry the answer
In a blood filled bowl?
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Hearing The Mermaids Sing 