First there is this:
sentience
echoes of a pounding heart
un-asked for dread
looking to the sky for answers
one ear to the ground
a natural alliance
in intangible connections.
The amethyst beneath
distressed wood
and chipping paint
stubborn in its design
Buddhist expressions
listening for enlightenment
the package of unity
found on this door step
inexplicably
dissolves everything
into itself
Then the words:
your voice sinks deep
like gravity as it applies to heat
and then a skipped space
and:
walking that line
where the crack in the sidewalk
nurtures your vibe
must have been something
we were talking about
whatever day it was. . .
Hidden designs lodged into our psyche
Others may have seen it before
we did but it's hard to say
and then:
I give you my voice
and we tiptoe around what can't be said.
You watch me turn this into a dance
& sigh reminiscent
And I talk lullabies in hillbilly drawl.
Conversations long to stretch themselves thin
Patience.. We pass each other
shift-work.
Stories and thoughts become play time
I take over and you catch some zzzz's.
How can this be?
and How can it not?
final thoughts.. for tonight at least
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
First there is this:
sentience
echoes of a pounding heart
un-asked for dread
looking to the sky for answers
one ear to the ground
a natural alliance
in intangible connections.
The amethyst beneath
distressed wood
and chipping paint
stubborn in its design
Buddhist expressions
listening for enlightenment
the package of unity
found on this door step
inexplicably
dissolves everything
into itself
Then the words:
your voice sinks deep
like gravity as it applies to heat
and then a skipped space
and:
walking that line
where the crack in the sidewalk
nurtures your vibe
must have been something
we were talking about
whatever day it was. . .
Hidden designs lodged into our psyche
Others may have seen it before
we did but it's hard to say
and then:
I give you my voice
and we tiptoe around what can't be said.
You watch me turn this into a dance
& sigh reminiscent
And I talk lullabies in hillbilly drawl.
Conversations long to stretch themselves thin
Patience.. We pass each other
shift-work.
Stories and thoughts become play time
I take over and you catch some zzzz's.
How can this be?
and How can it not?
final thoughts.. for tonight at least
Sleep sweet, john. A piece of paper found in my purse and some conversation turned into this. He made me a better poet. I can guess which words might be mine. But I couldn't say for sure.
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