My soul in sympathy
to those expressing grief –
I marvel at the articulation
of WordPress poets
who graciously lavish beauty
But all I can do
the outline of a sigh,
knowing they will fill it
with words lit by transcendence
and an ancient promise,
because my own soul is heavy,
and this snow falls in
like the sighing watch of the night…
photo: Chase Miller
like that first soup I made
in our first home.
Admittedly, it wasn’t meant to be admired on the floor
but I’m sure it would have been delicious.
Thank you wedding present blender
for keeping it real.
I hate the way you do that
you’re a genre I struggle with,
you’re a giant magnet for mediocrity
and so obnoxiously,
But gritting my teeth,
I try to endure the absurdities
with maturity and good humour,
you say adorable things like,
this asthma medicine may cause asthma and death.
you completely wooed me…
while I was nobly quelling an uncharacteristic urge to punch my stress doll in the
face, heart, conscience
(wait, is that even a thing? note to self, if it is, I need one. Poetic license only goes so far…)
some of the most beautiful words I had heard in hours
honeyed their way from the speakers into my parched ears.
There’s going to be a new Lego movie.
Out in February.
I hate the way you do that…
Inadvertent part two – I will never sleep again
let me stay
wrapped in this sound proof
the non word of the day.
the magic that blurs party lines,
a gift that truly keeps giving
my disgust, validation.
Votes not cast for either.
(Three, is it possible to count to three? I know we can do it. But let’s dream big, let’s try four.)
Can we please just start over.
The puzzled one where the last piece refuses to be found.
i thought we were talking about the denial of your family dynamic…
Oh. I’ve moved on.
But what I mean is,
I really haven’t…
how she loved building forts
and cubbies under tables,
she thought this room was perfect,
she could hide under the conversation,
catching the miscommunications flying about the room,
enough to make a covering for the table in the kitchen
with inherently invisible fibres
and the infused magic of her ancient past
(which, going by child logic, was probably the week before)
when she convinced Ariane
she was born a fairy
and lived under the tree fern
in the front garden.
when they found her,
she became human…
(there was a time, many years ago, when I was interested in Satanism. I was rescued from it. It’s not something I talk about much anymore. And I’m not looking to now. But I so love this song, it perfectly captures that time of my life. And for whatever reason, this bubbled up to the surface)
every colour of the distant rainbow
on the tip of time’s paintbrush
thrown against the wall of my dreams
colours thrashed together by the momentum
leaving the greyest indentation,
its essence sliding down
into its own swell,
its rumbling almost indiscernible
as it slowly gathers speed
chasing me down.
I turn, giddy,
the colour red breaking free, taking the lead.
completely enraptured by the engulfing
senses birthed to death,
the trap, so perfectly, intoxicatingly, un coloured
the red whirlwinding me down into the black. The black that swallows black.
choked by the screams of other
this is not the kiss you promised me
Oh God, I (don’t) want that kiss…
I’m wondering if you could lift your shoe for a moment
I’d like to scrape off that thing I said
I always thought you filled your space so elegantly
I see all my lines are starting with ‘I’
I know I’ve read something about that and
I should probably take some time now and overanalyse it and obsess
I’d like to try and salvage it but maybe that’s futile
And wait, did you say you got them half price?
Ugh, you know I’m easily distracted…
my dear friend
my old friend
my forever friend
so happy we reconnected
and friendship should always be celebrated (didn’t expect this did you? Ha. Gotcha. Plus, I always liked this song! Just thought of it today after we parted. Girl, how you make me laugh.)
Above all those others, keep flying… ❤
written so beautifully on the map
to leave a lasting impression
and reminds me of a song
(I never understood),
your people so rare
they’re fireflies as we pass
filling my eyes with tears of relief,
the embrace of the scent of a dreamed past.
this floury cloud
clothes me in the silk
of your colours undiminished
by winter’s gloom –
these gifts so sharply edged
but now willingly, intuitively blurred and fall softly
into these waiting arms of gratitude
(this video is beautiful. And I agree with the sentiment of the video producer, no one place is God’s country. Well, except that Sedona, may, just may, have made me question that a little…)
The immutable reality of change
the longing to keep “before” in range
it’s cratered the cortex of my being
and reverse refracted all my seeing
my inner core blinded by the white
lasering the absence on my sight
the snow in sympathetic silence
weakening the contrast in my blindness
reaching for the knowing of the past
the sewing pain of beauty will not last
or the hope is, it will, in fact, diminish
and these lines, for now, remain unfinished…
with that prodigal note,
my heart falling to its knees
in the reunion.
First day of the year.
Evaluating movement through life’s substance. (Or is it residue?)
Remember when you told me Vaseline was made from gasoline, and here, have some for the healing…
Remember how we wanted that clown for the party?
(I tried to publish this three times and WP didn’t save it for some reason. Hence the title 🙂 …I thought it was just me. Maybe it is…)