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I of the storm
I OF THE STORM Will you hold me steady As the path surges Over all rising tides Will you fix me in your gaze As horizons tumble Worlds slip and collide Will you take my hand When trying to grasp What slips through my fingers Will you steady my heart When panic and fear And disarray lingers Will you gather my feathers When Sun gets too close And wings become frayed Will you be my radar When wires short circuit My grounded charade Will you walk beside me When I wander off track Way too close to abyss Will you have my back When knees turn to jelly At it’s…
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From Stage To Page
I was transfixed. And transformed. There was my future life, spinning before me in a yellow swirl of stinky chemical induced flame.
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Right On Track
Sometimes it hiccuped just when her mind wandered, and would trip her nearly clean over. Once she even fell flat on her face, and got such a fright she was actually sick, right there on the path. It never hiccuped again.
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Out Of Time
It was so calm in fact that as soon as he’d pushed his boat out, past the gentle lap lapping of an abominably lazy ocean smacking the shore like a sloppy tongue, the only sound he could hear was his oars digging into the water, a little motor chug chugging like a growling puppy behind the boat.
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Free Falling
Day after week after month he sat watching the creatures of the forest, the plants and elementals, but none seemed to be his kin. He felt alone and helpless, and at the end of his tether reached down into the ground to try and hide his pained self.
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Transition
Dingo’s belly was stirring with something big. Something brutal. A hunger than expanded even as it drew inwards. The vacuum of a black hole reaching out with eager fingers to ensnare all within its grasp.
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Tending the (h)earth
The strange thing was that Jo had no hair. Not on his head, on his face, his chest nor legs, not a whisper of a whisker. He’d been born bald as an egg and had remained that way his whole life.
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The Harmonica and the Bee
Bee was transfixed as the beautiful melodies floating around him, his wings flipping him over in excited little flips every so often. When the saggy face finished his tune, he smiled, as a tear fell gently from his eye.
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Timekeeper
The layers of skin fold like an old accordion around his eyes, feigning a grin of sorts. They threaten to unfold permanently at any moment, sweeping the old bastard into instant blindness.
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What’s Next?
It curled itself up into a tight little ball, just like a little bud. Then fold by fold, it unfurled itself like a rose before the creatures awe struck eyes, then fell out of form like a spent flower. ‘Please finish me’ little beginning whispered, with all its might.
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Life direction
Knees relate to our life direction, so injury to them can be a halt in our path. It made me wonder what assistance I am refusing that is keeping me stuck.
