The tittering leaves chutter
softly to me - embracing
the clouded sky, portent
to a coming
storm. We could not care
any less - embrace the heavy
clouds, a molten mood.
My thoughts are wild, omnipotent
unhinged. Lapping water
tempers the coming
rain - whispers to me with
those newly born saplings
Coaxing me to
freedom, release from
pain and present
A hope in deluge
A silent thunder ignites.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
The tittering leaves chutter
softly to me - embracing
the clouded sky, portent
to a coming
storm. We could not care
any less - embrace the heavy
clouds, a molten mood.
My thoughts are wild, omnipotent
unhinged. Lapping water
tempers the coming
rain - whispers to me with
those newly born saplings
Coaxing me to
freedom, release from
pain and present
A hope in deluge
A silent thunder ignites.
While writing has always been at the center of who I am, sometimes the challenge of putting thoughts to paper so honestly is too much for me. Because of this, I've gone through several periods of silence, often lasting years and years.
Last summer, a very dear friend of mine challenged me to write a poem a week, and he would do the same - he wasn't able to keep his end of the bargain, but in retrospect, I think the sole purpose was to get me to write again,
I am so glad he did.
