Aberration

Aberration  

Worrying mental beads
I move in circles
Swaying constantly
On balls of my feet
Arms akimbo in grief

How could this happen
Why did heavens fall
On my forgetful head
Why did HE not chide as always
Insist on accompanying me

Worrying mental beads
Finger joints disjointed
In unhappy thoughts
Their red tips swollen
Worrying mental beads

*picture is from google images

Thorns

The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything;
They just make the most of everything that comes along their way.
Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched,
And those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people
Who have touched their lives ~ Anonymous

~

Thorns

Thorns of my hurts

I press close to my heart

Only share cheerful roses

For drooping spirits to buoy

And as these thorns dig deeper

And eke out blood from my tender

Breast, I realize they are my stigmata

Keeping me connected to the

Only ONE who ultimately matters
~

Ruffled

~at ebb tide i wrote a line upon the sand

and gave it all my heart and all my soul at

flood tide i returned to read what i had

inscribed and found my ignorance

upon the shore ~ Khalil Gibran

 

Ruffled

Feathers fluffed

Fanned blooming~

Ruffled, deliberately

 

Hot n bothered

Teetered here there

Angrily~

 

Soon realized

I was same, feathers

Intact, my ego had deflated~

*painting by Marc Chagall

 

 

Genie

Genie ~ (photograph by Dean Pasch)

No I am not a genie

Can grant no wishes

Why then

Bottle me?

 

Walls closing

Throttling spirit

Bruising wings

Into battered caving

 

Thrashing

Against domination

Reduced to abysmal

Submission

 

Outwardly dead

Mourning own death

In black white, coming alive

In riotously colored insides

 

Conditioned to play

Cards dealt by life

Patiently bided time

For own sunshine

 

Fate the joker

Gave relief

In one fell swoop

Chicken fled the coop

 

Fluttering feathers in verdant fields

Pirouetting under sky’s blue canopy

Breathing air of freedom in languorous

Inhalations, exhalations, finally

Pockets

Pockets

Seeds of

Grief

Lie fallow

In the fecund

Pockets of earth

That is my heart

 

News of death

Seeds them

Instantly

Sprouting them

In record

Time

 

I mourn alongside

Friends and the icicles

In the dark caverns of my

Heart begin to bleed ruby

Tears frozen by shock

And disbelief

 

Death is

A great equalizer

Bereft feeling permeates

Confounding

Compounding

Disorientation

 

I’ve learnt

To live in the

Moment

Fully,

Be it in grief

Or in joy

~
*painting is by Andrew Wyeth called Christina”s world

« Previous Page — Next Page »