It’s never easy to say goodbye to a fuzzy child, so here is my dedication to a very beautiful, loving ‘wolf.’
It echoes in the night
Shattering the silence
A cotton tail rabbit dives into a hole
There’s a doe that stops, ears open
It comes again
A long note, held to the very end
Slipping across the shimmering snow
No wind moves the trees
No rustle of leaves to shade the call
Just the sound to fill the air
Brilliant, still, and a stab through the chest
All of nature holding its breath
A shared waiting
And then an answer
High above the trees
Ringing amongst the branches
To meet the other
A chorus of echoes and cries
Forming a symphony
One last call joined with others
A last howl in the night.
Fairy doors was such a fun concept and there’s one in one of the conference/teacher’s office where I substitute teach a lot of the time. For whatever reason, it inspired me.
I’m just a fairy
Living in a door
A fairy door if you will
I see a new penny each day
And oh, the stories they bring
An old man gives for a wife dying in a hospital bed
A boy for the football player who won’t look at him
The new bride in hope they make it through the rough stuff
They come, leave their copper
And I listen for a while
There’s a little girl hoping for a pony
There’s a mother praying for a suicidal daughter
A college kid who just wants to pass the Econ. exam
Some are big
Some are small
But they matter to me
Like the dancer who broke her foot and is lost
Or the singer who just wants an audience
Or the IT guy who wants to be the next Steve Jobs (or Bill Gates)
I love hearing them
Laughing and crying with them
The young mother who only has a Medal of Honor for a husband
And the nurse who doesn’t sleep because she cares too much
Or the Cat Lady who has a heart ten times it’s size
They’ll never know
But I hear them
I keep their pennies with a little sigh
Pass their memories
Keep them alive
I’m just a fairy
Living in a door
Poetry is just pouring forth. So far, so good in keeping up with the whole ‘write each week’ thing, less so in the posting part.
This one was inspired by The Little Mermaid.
Foolish and dreaming
It’s a foolish thought
A dream really
Of the sun beating down on my bare skin
Drying little drops of water
Up there, my eyes would squint
My hair would catch the wind in tiny strands
A voice would echo back from some dark cavern
I’d wiggle my toes
Bury them deep in the sand where it’s cool
There’d be fabric about my legs
Water to soak my feet from dancing
A room would be my own
No sisters to barge in without announcing
I could choose to ride far away with wheels beneath me
And no overbearing father to tell me, “no”
My heart would be free to soar amongst the clouds
Know what it’s like to be held but not coddled
Up there I would be know what these bits are
How they work and why they are
I would not hide
But this is a dream
With ships and bursting lights and storms at sea
Who is there to help me be
Just some dark shadow, dangerous and forbidden
That cannot be the way to the sunlight
It’s a foolish thought
That tastes so sweet
Just a dream, really
That threatens to overtake my soul
Has it already?
I have a back log of things to post…whew…but that’s a good thing. I means I have been keeping up with my resolution. So here’s Week Six, and no, it wasn’t inspired by the movie, though I guess it could if you wanted it to.
February 5th, 2014
The sunlight glistens
bouncing off me in a thousand rays,
Each a rainbow,
A small miracle of light.
A heart stopping wind
Slides around me,
Floating off my skin,
Whistling in my ears.
A white whisper dances in my eyes,
Each twist and curve with a dancer’s grace,
Perfect and cold.
I am a part of this ballet.
The howling in the painful, still night.
Where the boot crunches, there I am.
A snap of a glazed twig,
Or the blinding light of dawn on white,
My heart is crystal and clear.
My limbs heavy with flakes.
My skin unbending, flawless.
I am dreaded and loved,
Cherished and tossed aside.
I am the white dark before dark light.
I am cold…
I am frozen.
That iPad Air commercial with Robin Williams was everywhere last week and it still is, but for good reason. It’s catchy and exciting and inspiring. The next thing I know, I’m writing my own verse…
Inspired by the Robin Williams iPad Air commercial
January 31st, 2014
My verse. My verse?
What verse should go here?
What words are adequate to romanticize a life?
A Shakespearean sonnet perhaps
It bloometh e’er long a’fore the sun
Or a musical lyric meant to be belted in the spotlight
Up an octave, down an octave, hold that note
What if all the world’s a stage?
Girl: (with tears in her eyes, she crosses R) but it can’t be lost forever
Or a few waltzing steps
Grande ronde de jambe, step, step, arabesque en pointe
A whoosh, whoosh of a police call box
An imaginary land where elves and men and orcs fight for a lost ring
Swords of light, teleporters, an unsolved murder
All fiction. All real.
Is this our verse?
Our stamp in time?
Is it a bruised knees on an empty swing?
A champagne toast to love to the end
The faith in God who will love us, hold us, guide us
Our tears at the end of a book while soaking in a tub
Dreams of far off, fantastical places we’ve seen on screen
The yearning to see sunlight in frozen winters
A bow at the end of a show, roses at our feet
Is this the mark of a verse?
Is the book important? Or the bruise?
The love? The pain? The confusion in between?
The Jedi? The vampire? The Dark Knight on pages?
What verse can hold it all?
Can we even ask it to carry the burden?
My verse? What verse? A verse.
A fading footprint in a mass of stars
Last week I was horribly ill so I spent a lot of time with TLC, HGTV, Animal Planet, and you get the trend. In the process I wrote this ode to homeless pets everywhere…
Lament of the Forgotten
for the animals shivering in the cold
January 25th, 2014
The ground is cold beneath me
It’s where I lay my head
It keeps me here
A leaky roof
It doesn’t matter
This is where I stay
In my throat
Tied up tight
For one warm glance
To lock eyes and know I am
But here I am lost
Praying that tomorrow will change it all
Break these bindings and fill me
Scoop me up on your warm arms
Don’t look away
Don’t hurry by
See my bed, the cold dirt
See my chains, they burn
See how empty and thin I am
So… I guess poetry is the name of the game right now. I tried to put together a little short story but it didn’t want to come out. Instead, this weird ditty did. Whoops.
January 10, 2014
The sand will wash away
Carry the stories of
Carries them out to sea
Until they are one
They are many
Transplanted on a distant shore
A new step
A new life
Another step on a sandy shore
There is a sketch for last week (it was posted on Instagram) and I’ll get that posted here shortly as soon as I put a ‘watermark’ on it because it’s a design for an outfit I’m making so…ya know… making sure it stays mine.