#transfigure
I’m a dalmatian in the park this morning
leaping with a grace I can feel
a toddler by midday, splashing
unashamedly into gleeful puddles
red wellies into small pools of sky
a bird by the afternoon
giving the impression I may take flight
as I perch wise on the wall and
stretch my feathers
watching you
a fish by the time the evening is here
paper-light and shining
pretending I am not gasping for air
but I’m gasping
because I know night is coming
And the pretence
Should really be over in time for bed.
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 5:09 AM UTC
The pain rots and sheds,
as it smoulders her bones
and burns her skin third degree.
Loss and jealousy enwrap
her scorched heart into ashes,
while lava flows off her tongue
as it promises vengeance.
She becomes a vortex of emotions
engulfing her own life,
dwelling in the
merry go round thoughts.
Until she picks up the pen
and tucks the rage and ache
within the 26 alphabets
stringing words,
to sentences to paragraphs.
Ashes and embers stain the paper
as they ebb, blot and flow,
crafting the cathartic relief
until the paper stains darker
than the shades of her mind.
The blues that would pour,
become the budding flowers
in her chest.
She remodifies
cobblestones into steppingstones,
amplifying her narrative.
She tosses the losses
into words
and crosses beyond the horizon.
A candle flame burns deep
inside her solar plexus
as she transmogrifies the shards into a mosaic;
the strings of the web she was entangled in
weaved into embroidery to embellish her soul.
The cries and lies,
made her wise
as she built from the same sorrows
she was drowning in.
She put her ache on cadence
and turned up a brain wavelength.
She finally found her salvation
from abandonment
a dive deep and wide into
the depth of introspection
pulling from the cronies and nooks
the parts built and undiscovered.
She armed herself with
empathy fueled passion
as she has burnt, learnt
and learn to yearn the better
while she steers forward
with a transfigured mindset.
For the people who came,
now leave as poems.
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 11:00 AM UTC
Fear is a constant friend for me in this old town,
It numbs, yet excites in the men's old tin drums.
Everything else runs away and hides in the imminent
twilight.
It keeps us old folk happy, and us young folk safe, even if I'm
anesthetized in street dances.
The love of your life is in that next building, honey, looking over his footprints for the future.
And if he's not it, live with it. Keep Him happy, so that you're safe.
Never stop fearing...
Love was never in the cards for any of us;
why would it happen for me? I wasn't any more than us.
A distant longing quenches a soul with doubts for only so long though
...making the white hum and breed black.
A lone sound amongst the silence with its soul thirsts for what has been hidden.
There's no sign of true life without something more, bigger than you and us.
How can there be, when true loss is unpredictable, our founders said.
It has already been spoken in a prophecy...
Perhaps, for me it is different, what then?
Do you pity me?
them? I do.
But there's something wrong with the little party I didn't plan, yet didn't cancel.
There were people overseas, beside you and me that have died for what I have been avoiding. Why?
Perhaps my own parade needs a little rain,
or a blazing hellfire to make way for the reality?
The transfiguration I've been dreaming for,
has watched me, and cried for me while I watched the town parade,
riding on my dad's shoulders.
But we have been anointed by the bravery and hope I've dreamed about when I saw us walk away.
We need to leave this ghost town,
where beasts of my blood roam the streets. Where fear
overtook me and mated
with me in an incestuous ceremony.
A true joining of true , lost ones
Created in the beginning to love
lost their way, found home
with the one and only
Reason, not to fear....a goodbye.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC