#longago
A shoestring girl
Curled up in an attic
Who’s remembering a family
That’s picture-perfect
Using the dust
To form a father
A lively one
Who’s supportive
That hugs a doll
Made of scraps
A mother
Who loves
Without condition
That’s always scolding
Two brothers
A pair of woodchips
Who run all-day
On a concrete drive
Which lays in front
Of a cookie-cutter
Home
Whose neighbors laugh
And play outside
Where everyone smiles
Free of worries
About the future
Or what will change
Because the memories
Of that shoestring girl
Were morphed to be
Picture-perfect
Through an adolescent
Mind
Full of ignorance
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 10:56 PM UTC
sometimes memories can make anyone seem alive no matter how long ago it was.
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 11:56 PM UTC
Beneath infertile fields,
where the breath seeping
beyond view would suffocate
the life of mans impoverished
wondering.
Curiosity was a misconception
what was submerged was
not as above. For eggs lay dormant
feeding on the impoverished fumes.
Like lullabies grazing upon it
slumbering.
But local folk were wiser upon the
land, greeting the field from afar.
For what was legend was fact instead.
When the earth did breath with rumbling
discontent they knew the land was ready
to birth new life from fields of purgatory.
Majestic wings flew from afar,
and villagers gazed at
this beauty of imagining, as bones
scatted like seed over a field of infertile
hallucinations.
But where some dreams die, one awakens.
As the earth heaves like a womb being
awoken by birth, so seeps the blood of
the earth, alight in a concussion of vivid
hues of fire and life,
graced by eyes afar.
Flame danced around this new birth,
as it inhaled the flame, expelling
a fountain of new born breath.
And the villagers cheered, the new born
looked, but the mother knew that there was
nothing to fear for this place was safe.
A tradition of old, letting those who dare
wonder, treasure hunters, armies had tried
to collect the bounty of this land, for with
birth comes riches from deep in the earth.
But the villagers had the wealth of
seeing this every few hundred years.
But the dragon always paid its debt,
as wings of frail flight learned the
dynamics of wind and wings.
A hand gestured to the well, and falling
a bountiful harvest of gem stones.
like a rainbow finding its place of birth,
so many filled the sky with there descent.
And then as before and times long ago.
with eyes adjusted to not gaze on the
field, a mother does neatly once again
hide her worth beneath the earth.
So long from now a new child will
see the happiness of a mother on infertile earth.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
... I hear the whisper growing,
the whisper's fingers probing me deeper than deep.
whispering it's whisper, "live".
the spring waters rushing.
the snow holding on in the warming sun.
Can't move on and can't stay the same.
pages written long ago thrown in a fall storm.
edges showing in the melting snow.
long ago and how it use to be here with me.
Can't move on and can't stay the same.
a day begins,
the sun shines.
the warmth takes hold,
life begins again.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC