My breath was a triangle
shaping me into a prism
a contortionist
contorting to comfort
within discomfort
the pain a backrest
in which to rest my head
a backdrop of tidal waves
to slowly tread
Poetry
Day 20: Hung on
I hooked my umbrella to the words
and hung on
a heron waiting to unfurl
clinging to this song
waiting for the moment
to be okay with the world
rain and wind
blasting storms
life is a river, never static
to every word
I hung on
Day 19: Contortionist tree
Ever the contortionist
the tree twisted gnarly limbs
branching out in all directions
many a perch for the crows
and those wise black eyes
that surely know
the tree had weathered many storms
only the crow could tell
when the crown would fall
Sunday wordle: I will not linger (Or perhaps I will I can’t seem to help myself.)
I will not linger in the storms you pass
That’s a lie, I know I will
all the signs are there
or rather torn apart
that you’ve been through
and I’m sick of you
and myself
because you leave carnage in your wake
some subtle some not so
and I always chase after these feelings
and afterthoughts
anger tinged with sadness
but I prefer the anger
till I do something rash
then I regret how I left myself
drifting in your storm
you cast a spell on my mind
treading through your footprints
knowing you’re always one step ahead
always watching
I can’t afford sympathy for you anymore
Probably neither the anger
but in your storms, I drift
and in my mind you fritter away my thoughts
Day 17 Beast
The mist smeared the day
in a haze
the leaves licked at me
morning dew
slipped like silk
onto my skin
The sun just rising beyond
and delirious
with my pursuit
I thought I felt the earth
breathe underneath my feet
I could hear it’s stomach churning
the worms ready to feast
The world itself a beast
and I just a mere mite crawling
matted in it’s fur
and reliant upon it’s skin
not something to be messed with.
Day 16: Pause
The music plays
an admission that life continues
I want to take the notes out of the song
and hold them still
never letting go
forever on pause
to reflect the undertow of silence
now you’re gone
day 15: Problems I couldn’t mend
I wanted to be pink sky
telling of future calm
instead, I was grey
with heavy cumulonimbus clouds
seeking to vent
unable to ease your burdened heart
because these were problems I couldn’t mend
day 14: sorrow
Even simple cumulus clouds
can seem like they’re pregnant with storms
as they mark time in the sky
when you feel alien and heavy
with sorrow, you’re trying to hide
when there is an ocean weighing down your stomach
and tidal waves rising up to your throat
it doesn’t matter that the sun is shining up there, up high
all that matters is the tide
of the emptiness inside
Day 13 Life is one big hollow scream
Life is one big hollow scream
of nothingness
consuming itself
over and over again
Day 12, Sunday wordle
Time is a flutter in the eye
The blink of a wing
That words and symbols measure
To mark the shifts in decades
Stories written and rewritten
To haunt the years
In the hopes of a spark
To light up lanterns
To float as if on water
Fluttering through time
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