Fortified - Written for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 15

Your projected image
an illusion, that rattles
these internal walls.

Waiting for redemption.
Waiting for the holy jangle
of long forgotten keys.

Harvested hope, splinters.
Tainting the free running fear
that irrigates this fortress.

A weed among flowers, shines.
No longer part of the crowd,
an exception, an example. . .

to pierce our preconceptions,
to make new our jaded vision.
It stains the water with light. . .

to illuminate the darkness,
and allow these thick walls
to sprout voices, and speak.


Written for the . . .
Sunday Whirl Wordle 15







I used all the words. :-)

The Grass is Greener On The Other Side

He meticulously bought the cigarette paper up to his lips

with deft and artful tongue he licked the exposed edge.

Flicking at the lighter until the flame leapt

. . . he inhaled . . .

eyes tight closed

as he took that ritual long slow breath.

Pulling the sacred smoke down

deep into his lungs.

Silence fell as he held it there.

Moments passed - like shooting stars.

. . . until he exhaled clouds . . .

Sweetly scented blue grey smoke

curling and climbing the expectant air.

He smiled as peace descended.

He was home.



Written for The Thursday Think Tank prompt #59 - Grass
.

Image and Words - Susannah Bec

When Morning Comes . . .

Written for the Sunday Whirl - Wordle 14

I scan the night drawn curtains.

Searching for bright chinks,

cat claws, in the cloth armour

woven against darkness.

Flecks of speckled light bear witness

as visions wide net is cast adrift, to wander

over the newly minted sky.

A marvel, rendered in golds and yellow.

Low, scattered, broad brushstroke clouds,

gild the masterpiece with skeins of silver

and soft ribbons of the palest pink.

I blink three times at this visual feast,

layed out before my night weary

and unaccustomed eyes.

As if to capture it.

Commit it to memory.

Etch it into my being.

Midnights anxiety,

reprehensible,

in the face of such beauty.

I twist my hair carefully,

pulling it back from my face.

I fasten it with a silver clip.

Reaching out,

I press the button

just as the alarm clock,

begins to whir. . .


,
To tell the truth I was daunted by this wordle, on first glance reprehensible, rendered and marvel just didn't seem like something I could or would usually use. But I managed to perservere and use all the words. Phew! LOL

After Dark

I stalk the night on midnight heels,
creating sparks, a river of stars
illuminated in flashing neon.
In the back street world,
where I am queen
and the night
goes on
forever.

Written for the thursday think tank prompt #58 night time

In silence we hear the whispers

Don't ask, don't say.
Everything lies in silence.

We inhabit these
silent chapels of self
they are flooded with the light
of our own awareness (or not)

A slanted shaft of illumination
stained with all we have been
all we have seen
glass still intact
vibrant colours
now fading. . .

But we are haunted
by hushed whispers
long empty echoes
just reverberations
of our own forgotten
voice

Don't ask, don't say.
Everything lies in silence.


Written for Real Toads. Inspired by the fortune cookie (in italics)

Not Lonely - Just Alone

Upon the plain walls of my life,
there hangs a portrait. It is a good likeness.

And behind it, set into the discoloured patch
on the wall. Is a blank space.

And set within that blank space, is a secret safe.
Where I, have locked myself away.

And no one, would even begin to suspect,
that the portrait may not be me.

And that I, may be hidden behind it.
Sitting quietly alone, inside the 'safe'.



Written for Poets United Thursday Think Tank prompt #57 - Alone/Loneliness

Fire Magic

Written for the Final Tues collab.
Inspired by this beautiful image by Elizabeth Crawford at Unravelling.

F i r e M a g i c

I am ablaze.

Orange heat

Pirouettes.

Dancing

As it destroys.

Burning

What has gone.

So that

What is new

May flourish.

Purifying.

Cleansing.

Transforming.

Devouring what is.

To make room

For what will be.

And

I am there.

In the flames.

And I am consumed.

.


I will miss taking part in the Tuesday Collab. It is has been fun. I have loved it. x

Those long gone summers of childhood

That sunblind summer. . .

Where the light sparkled so vividly

that I didn't notice the shadows,

the sharp contrasts,

the night.

Memory tells of endless days. . .

wrapped in the bright beauty

of youth, and sunshine.


Written for in tandem over at Alias Jinksy. So, what do you see in Jinksy's image?

When Head Battled Heart . . .

On a whim, I followed the twisted river.
Instinct galloping on up ahead,
astride the sparkling moment.

Effervescent and soft saddled,
my sleek and sturdy steed
ran like the wind.

Blustered and blown, I felt that sharp sting,
that biting buzz of conscience,
twinged.

Reason and his long loyal henchman,
had joined forces, collaborated
to stop my errant flight.

The strong arms of thought and logic,
those powerful twin adversaries,
clung around my ankles.

But my wily and wise earthbound feet
had grown swift, with wings
upon their willing heels.

For that bright and glorious butterfly
that had formed, and fluttered
from my ever open heart

was far too full of joy, for me to ever resist,
and I, its guardian and willing cohort
had no more doubt.

I gathered myself up, and swirling light
and scattering colour, I danced
out into the waiting world.

Where my life became a painting,
and my every footstep
became a poem.

.

Written for Wordle 12 at the Sunday Whirl

What We See . . .

Written for Two in Tandem #9 over at Alias Jinksy.
So, what do you see in Jinksy's image?

I see the threads,

the warp and weft.

Grains of a story

the maker left.

Galloping horses,

soaring birds.

Flames and sunlight,

haunting words.

Tapestry woven,

with skill and with care.

Imbued with fine detail

for those that will stare,

at the pictures it conjures,

for all those that can 'see'

the patterns and meanings.

Like you. . . and like me.

As soon as I saw this image it reminded me of laying on the floor looking at the patterns in an intricate woven rug, or maybe a tapestry, and seeing the pictures that my mind always makes when looking at random patterns. (My bedroom curtains when I was a child were a real feast for my imagination!)

So you read what I saw. What did you see?

Unearthly in its Splendour. . .

Written for Two in Tandem #9 over at Alias Jinksy.
So, what do you see in Jinksy's image?

(1)

Oh that doorway, found in dreams,
where the pure light beckons and speaks of ethereal things.
Unearthly in its splendour. . .


(2)

Like an early morning in St. Ives
where artists paint, surrounded
by nothing but sea and sky. . .

All those that have visited St. Ives in Cornwall will understand number 2 and maybe some have you have also seen the doorway in your dreams. :-)

Full Moon

Written for the Tues collab #9 inspired by this image by Elizabeth at Unravelling.

F U L L M O O N

Oh beautiful moon reflector of light,
our faithful satellite, queen of the night.

Puller of tides, calm watcher of sleep,
ruler of water and things that go deep.

Pale maiden of mystery floating in space,
has us enchanted with each changing face.

Astrological ruler of feelings and home,
she watches over us wherever we roam.

We may find our selves lost and wondering why,
but she is always above us - up there in the sky.

MOON 2 (SPEECHLESS)

I have no words left to describe the moon,

for she who sails in the heavens, and pulls

and pushes the oceans is not a one for words.

She rules the surges of the heart, the nuances,

the subtleties that the sun and his fierce shining

light may miss. So I am sorry, I have no words

left to describe the moon. . .


.

Image Moonrise - by Elizabeth Crawford.

Waiting for Daybreak. . .

(1)

From out of the edgy darkness
the night hurtles toward dawn.
The nail bite moon sharp as scissors
arced and silvered, it clings to the sky.

Memories like limbs flung across my sleeping back.
Transient and fresh, page turned, print already fading.

Once I flew, on a toss of a coin.
Reaching out for something more
than the pinchbeck flecks in your eyes.
The ones that I could have sworn were gold.

A strange siren that doesn't sleep, ricoshayes around my black box room.
Buttons pressed, dual password entry. Voila, lifetime history clears.

Teeth flossed and my garments folded
Daybreak sings my name in rhyme.
The covered windows talk of light.
All nights shadows, now are mine.


(2)

From out of the edgy darkness
the night hurtles toward dawn.

Nail bite moon sharp as scissors
arced and silvered, clings to the sky.

Memories like your heavy limbs
are flung across my sleeping back.

(Green eyes and pinchbeck flecks
ones I could have sworn were gold.)

Transient and fresh, a page turned,
the once black print already fading.

Unwieldy torches packed in boxes
(still running after the bird that flew.)

Flossed teeth and garments folded,
buttons pressed in my black box room.

The siren sings though no one hears it
above the teeming traffic flow.

Written for Wordle 11 at the Sunday Whirl

Oh this caused me problems! I faffed and faffed with it! rewriting certain bits and trying to use all of the words. I decided I had had enough, so pasted my original version into this post and pressed publish... then decided to post my latest edit too.

I am not really happy with either! Perhaps I will rework them sometime. :-)

Being There. . .

Written for Sunday Scribblings prompt Hitch.

Can I hitch a ride

to the other side?

I'll pay you in glee
(and things you can't see)

I'll listen to your fears
(we can shed a few tears)

I'll lend you my phone
(so you can call home)

I'll be your best friend
(until we get to the end)

I'll be company for you
(until we make it through)

I'll sit by your side
while we take the ride.

Image and words - Susannah Bec