We are at war – fable poetry for dVerse.
Advertisements
Month: February 2014
Dust to dust
I contemplate
As I must
The efforts of my life
Buried.
Fireflies dance
In childhood memory
Reminding me of innocence,
Of fairy lights dancing in the darkness
Guiding as we skipped up the path
To bed time.
I Hunted.
Stalked the aisles
Chased the stock clerk
Dogged the grocery stacker
Hounded the price checker
Trailed the lady with the over loaded cart
And two snotty kids.
Searched through the condiment shelves
Finally chasing down my quarry,
A splendid jar of creamy mayonnaise
Without which my life was flavorless
The hunt was over.
http://28tocreate.blogspot.com/
I Know~
That I have come to value me.
Not an easy task,
Since I constantly err in judging
What my true value should be.
Others advise to be sure.
The method of measurement obscure.
Inches, knowledge, years mature,
Since the flaws I view in others
Are as apparent in me and more.
28 to Create 3: Breathing (breathless)
Is it February again already? Surely! Ready to post for the first time …for the second year of 28 to Create! What IS 28 to Create, you may ask yourself. Well, I’ll be nice and give you a link so you can check it out!
http://28tocreate.blogspot.com/
It’s a daily prompt exercise extravaganza that is open to ANYONE who wants to do ANY form of art based on the prompts given! Give it a try! Get involved! Make some art!
I had forgotten to breathe for a day or two.
I had not missed my exhaling of breath,
I was trapped in an ocean of task, riding the wave
and yet~
Only when I had surfaced did I catch the drift.
Watching the foam recede, my emotions spent,
Time had surged on, starfish in tow, floundering
With regret~
I inhaled deeply.
Aware of the ocean’s greedy expanse,
Waiting for the next big wave
Another chance to be breathless….you bet.
Is there no purer love than for my own newborn child?
Pushed from my loins,
Watching, listening for your first breath,
Your cry.
Your father was there, stoic,
He held my hand, as good men do.
Who felt the most awe?
My heart felt swollen with emotion,
Hard labor satisfied.
But you were never mine.
You stayed long enough for your glossy wings to dry,
Then flew off into the sunlight.
Life does that.
%d bloggers like this:
