Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2016 Skaidrum
Little Bear
i wish i could bundle up
all of my happy
and all of my wishes

every single
tiny little
smile i ever had

tie it up with hugs
wrap it up in kisses
and send it to you

to make you feel
not sad
i don't think it's meant to rhyme.. but it did.. just a little bit :o)
I imagine us
collecting affections
like loose change

bits hidden everywhere

in couch cushions,
in strong, stitched
seams

pennies hoarded
in an old sweet
jar

cluttered coppers
at the bottom of
coffee cups

we count,
meaningless amounts

building neat piles
of insignificant coins

until they become
our fortune
 Aug 2016 Skaidrum
b for short
He smiles kindly
and with a steady hand
dips brush into color,
decorating every inch
with precision and care.
He paints no two souls alike,
but yet leaves his distinct mark,
so bright and profound;
touched and, without question,
we’ve been bettered.
Each of us now proudly stretched,
on display for the rest of a lifetime.
A work of his art, never caged,
but free to come and go,
free to be.
© Bitsy Sanders, August 2016

For Kibwe Lee
 Aug 2016 Skaidrum
xmxrgxncy
She was always cautious. Momma had always told her not to stray too far towards the edge, that the gold lining of the clouds would tempt her up and over what was well and good. And if she didn't look carefully enough, she'd fall instead of fly.

She was always waiting. Sometimes, she was lured near the edge by a cloud or two, but was able to catch herself before lunging off the amethyst cliff into the dark nothing in which she could either sink or soar.

She was always lonely. So many figures danced just along the edge, just out of her grasp, their blurred outlines shining brighten than molten sunshine, calling to her. pulling at her humble clothing.

She was never desperate. Although even the slightest murmur of her name was enough to get her up and running towards the edge, she always awoke from the nightmare...and would always regret not taking the risk.

Until she did.

She was always shy. But when the wisp of hope outlined by the shadows of the moon itself reached out its twilight fingertips to her and beckoned, promising a life beyond the farthest jump she could possibly muster, she heard. And she believed.

She was always meek. Not believing in herself but in the hands that held hers, she ventured to the edge, peering over into the lilac abyss and the stars above. And she jumped.

She was always forgettable. No sooner had her toes left the glossy surface of the biggest cliff she had ever faced in her life, her memory was wiped from the minds of those who knew her, to be replaced by something brighter, shinier, newer.

And then she was gone. But no one would miss her.
I've been wishing for the last week that I was a machine. Not able to feel. And today...well, today just proved how wrong I am in wanting to feel something. Because like it or not, we're all dispensable. Especially me. Maybe it's because I give so much of myself that you can see right through me when they're not around me. Maybe I'm just that shallow, that desperate. Who knows. I just wish I was made of cogs instead of a beating heart.
Imagine -

this blackness as if it is something
tangible

that you can hide in your
hand

an apple core you can throw
away

when the flesh has been eaten
away

I fall into a medicated sleep
each night

close my eyes to the world
yet still

it moves around me,
pulses

like the streets of a big city
drowned in neon light

I want to touch this hook that has
gutted me

until only my body remains
the outer shell

of something living, the movement
of a clenched fist

plunged into a ribcage that
shatters and pierces the heart

they call it a dog and I know it
is animal

in nature, ruthless,
with an insatiable hunger

I am the root of the dying
flower

resistant but buried under-
ground

I can only see the sun in the
moon

the sea in a handful of salt
rubbed deep into the

wound
 Aug 2016 Skaidrum
Keith Wilson
Thanks  everyone  for  all  your  support.
I  cannot  keep  up  with  all  the
notifications.
It,s  truly  wonderful.
Thanks  very  much  again..

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.
Next page