Pour water on a table.
Watch it roll off the sides with ease,
confidently flowing in every
direction at once.
Spot the little droplet left,
there you’ll find the
collection of apathetics,
begging to, at last, evaporate.
Ever since I started writing poetry, I’ve been desperately searching for a metaphor to describe apathy. Still haven’t found it. Haha
I refuse to shape my world
To fit your points of view
Perfection alone hardly ever stands true
Between the lines we all fall through
Righteousness, your badge of honor
Your heart must be black and blue
And so I'm sorry I told you the truth
From the winds they were spun notes that formed music
ethereal and sweet.
and from the stars poetry sifted
into melody, creating song. . .
How gloriously the stag rises.
sniffing air sweet with supplication..
Each syllable is warm caress,
each scent a flowered note
lifting softly through air,
She watches them take flight,
shimmering stars or merely embers
falling to earth light as rain?
How easily their touch dispels heartache,
wrapped in moonlight and blue shadow,
anointed with the fragrance of spruce.
A rose becomes a kiss whose petals caress lips
lingering just above flesh..
Silent night, the entire forest is lit with magic fire.
. . . "Yet secret is poem's end,"
she says with a conspiratorial wink,
before running swift as summer fawn
scattering petals in her wake.
Gaia, bless this fern filled home.
ablaze with starlight and magic
the creatures of earth bow to you mother
all earth is green and new,