Sunday, February 3, 2013

#MicroPoetry November - January (2013)

Let's just address that huge elephant in the room, sitting calmly in the corner noshing on nuts and sniffing the hair of pretty ladies that pass by, I am late, super late, a month late, but I just didn't feel like I had enough material from November and December to do a post. This doesn't mean I wasn't writing, just wasn't writing #MicroPoetry. 

In December my Friend Sarah Firebaugh and I embarked on a collaborative project called, If Photographs Could Talk. Almost all of my creative energy was devoted to that. I hope you will all forgive me and enjoy these musings.

#MicroPoetry: November - January (2013)

When world works at a low hum
Quiet moments
Tucked into my chest
Share secrets
Send me
To dream of days yet to come

I stood there
As I stood years before
Thankful for my freedom
Reassured in my convictions

Woke up peaceful
My stereo mind
Taking long laps
Outstretched arms
Pulling through warm water
Fluttering legs propel forward
Body breaks towards light
Surface broken
Rhythmic water dances on air
Exposed mouth takes audible breath
Relieved muscles retract and compress
Filled lungs and sealed lips
Body returns to calm cocoon

Grey breath
Against black canvas
Silent shadows
Engulfed by darkness
Weepy eyed ragdolls
Buried in pillows
Wait for raspberry rays
Their first chance to see the sun

Pillowcase shimmer
Of the last time
Her head
Laid next to his

Silver air
Fell gently
Swirled effortlessly
Blurred vision
Forced focus

With wounded words in my head
Words which once were power
Now nothing more than cracked porcelain

My head
On you scented pillow
Is restless
Deep in dreams of moments
When my head
Rested on my pillow
And you
Were pulled into me

The day
Waits patiently
For new energy
For new direction
To stretch its arms
And breathe new wind

Sleepy streets
Populated with weary workers
Who daydream drive of warm beds
And lovers arms
Still tucked beneath winter sheets
Too deep in dreams
To appreciate gray morning calm
The stillness
The silence
The solitude
The emptiness
The existential vacuum
As those with wide eyes
Seek meaning from the materialist maze
The Great Green having usurped God’s grace

Puzzled into
Creates perfect painting
Low-light sunrise
And love

Birds perch on icicles
High above ice skating rink roofs
While squirrels scamper for footing on slick streets

I watched it struggle through black night
Flapping obscenities into January’s bitter breeze still sick with Winter’s chill
Desperately trying to release itself from the naked limbs that bound it
To fly effortlessly
To kiss silver clouds lining black sky
To be free
Having failed
It hangs
Like a defeated ghost

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