Today’s daily prompt: Longing
On this cold, dark day of my winter
I long to stand on the waterfront of my youth
with the sun warming my skin
and the breeze blowing my hair.
I long to cast stones with the carelessness of those earlier days
and let them skim across the water.
How I long to watch their ripples once again
through the eyes of innocence.
A/N: Kind of fitting for today – my 42nd birthday! Not that I am in my “winter,” but you know how folks can get sentimental when they turn a year older.
Also fitting: that beautiful young lady in the photo is my daughter. My mini-me in many ways, I love to see things anew through her eyes.
For those of you who missed Weekend Rewind last weekend, I apologize. Life has been distracting me this week but I should return this weekend.
“Nothing is wrong.”
These become the lies with which we build the walls.
Your walls are quite solid, well-constructed. Even as I lay beside you, touching you, the walls keep me isolated. I cannot surmount them. Even as I feel your warm skin, I am left cold. Outside. You are here, but not.
I try desperately to see around or over the walls, to glimpse what once was. I try to scrape my way though until my fingers bleed but the walls stand firm.
There are so many things that I want to say to you but the walls only deflect and distort them. So we lay – together but miles apart – separated by the loneliest silence.
Written for the Daily Prompt: The Outsiders
Writing 101: Day 3: One-word inspiration. Select one word from the list that speaks to you in some way.
Despite the walls that she so carefully constructed,
Despite her best resistance,
He edged past the barriers
And surreptitiously made his way
Straight into her heart.
Patiently he worked,
Patching the cracks and mending the breaks.
He decorated the walls with grace
And made his home there.
photo credit: Eirik Solheim
Masks and camouflage
Smoke and mirrors
Whatever you want to call it
Promises distorted but not broken
Whatever keeps your conscience clean
Lies with good intention
So good you actually believe them
Yet they are still as sharp as the blade of malice
Your apathy is not a coat that you can hang on my shoulders
It does not fit
It does not keep me warm
I shed my pain like a hemorrhage
Your band-aid is a stopgap
But I bleed through
New dawn brings new light
I decide to bleed no more
photo credit: Paul Tomlin
March 21 is World Poetry Day, a day to support poetry and poets around the world. I know, March 21 is almost over. But I didn’t want this day to go by without acknowledging it.
A favorite verse of mine:
And you can find my poems here.
What are some of your favorite poems or favorite poets?
Precious soul, you were but a whisper that only I could hear
yet you adorned the hopes and dreams
held secret in my heart
Tiny spirit, instead of sleeping in my arms
you dance in the warmth of the sun and wander among the stars
forever light and free
Gentle one, you were but a drop in the ocean to most
My child, to me you were a great wave
powerful and crashing
still echoing in my core
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
photo by Chris Luczkow
A/N: I wrote this about a pregnancy loss that I experienced years ago. It started out as an elegy, but as always happens, I take too long to get things written and I get behind in my assignments. I intended to keep up with the poetry class but I found I am spending way too much time trying to follow the rules – acrostic, elegy, ode, limerick, ballad, etc. – and spending less time actually writing. And I have precious little time for writing. I am so impressed by all of my friends who have done the course and I think studying those forms is important, but it is not something that I have time for at the moment. I will focus on expression and not on the format. Happy writing, everyone!
Your lies fall like rain
I shine the light on our truth
The storm rages on
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Burning Down the House.”
Ashes are all that is left.
As I stand in the ruins of us,
I remember the flames,
slow and warm at times,
white hot and scorching at times.
The ashes are cold and empty and numb.
So even after all the devastation,
I long for the sweet pain of the flames.
I am caught in your crosshairs;
You know all of my weak spots;
Aim and fire.
Arrows find their mark and pierce my skin,
dripping with the sweet poison of your lies;
Illusions, delusions and denial
keep me locked in this house of cards
Inspired by the Daily Prompt Truth Serum