Reading other writers’ poems, I often find their creativity sparks something in me, as well. Here’s what I unearthed this morning!
Note: OK, so having seen my lovely, foofy, unreadable font on the page (we won’t do that again, will we?), here it is in good old readable font.
Trying on different lives to see what fit
I found my own skeleton buried deep
beneath a mound of costumes.
Crying, softly, as I remembered who I was;
And lifting my bones gently from their early grave,
I washed them clean and clothed them in myself.
Great choice of words to get the little grey cells in my brain working! 😀 Thanks, Colleen! ♥
Seek not for meaning
In the vastness of the sky
Barren worlds of ice and fire,
For no magic thrives
Where the Dragons have not trod.
This year, especially, I begrudge the start of Autumn. After breaking my hip 4 weeks ago, I felt as if I was forced to merely observe the second half of summer through shaded glass, from a hospital bed. So, it is with a certain sense of sadness that I step outside and feel the changes in the air. Soon, the violent winds will come and rip the leaves from the trees. Soon, the first snow will be upon us, though the last one feels too recent.
My dreams and plans will NOT be derailed; I shall not long allow this grieving, but, meanwhile, I cry for summer and write poems about its passing. Judging by e.e.cummings’ quote, he felt the same as I do. 😉
Two poems for you:
I will not apologize for loving summer,
For reveling in the warmth of the sun,
For worshipping the myriad greens of life and growth.
But, here comes Fall, once again,
The cold and blustering thief of my happiness.
It strips away the heat, and the flowers,
And the leaves with such a force
That I cannot call it fall or autumn…
Thief of Summer –
I name you ‘Snatch.’
… wendy anne darling 2016
Flowers and I stood,
Fearless in the face of Death…
Prior to the Fall.
…wendy anne darling, 2016
I try my best to keep up with modern-day ‘speak,’ but sometimes it just evades me! 😀
AN OLD FART’S TAKE ON MODERN LANGUAGE
by Wendy Anne Darling:
Happy Friday! I hope you’re King or Queen of your weekend. 🙂 In honor of Friday, here’s a little bit of fun that I just completed. Enjoy!
King struts his male stuff all around the back yard…
“This rock is mine! I pee on you!” Dog rules.
“Think’st thou this barbeque belongs to YOU?” he snorts
“I claim this sausage for the crown, you fools.”
“With a slight tilt of leg. I anoint you a Knight
You may rise!” Oh, it’s good to be King!
I carpet the floor with my long, golden fleece –
Never say I don’t give you a thing!
Just one tiny cloud mars his iron-pawed reign –
The servants oft’ fail to obey,
For they take out the chariot whenever they please.
“Just to buy the best kibble!” they say.
He harbours suspicions but turns a blind eye
“Sometimes they must frolic,” he laughs.
So he cuts them some slack and allows them their fun
But he really must curtail those baths!
All is well in his realm ‘til the portentous day
When the servants return with a crate
Containing an odour of danger so strong
That our King feels his confidence quake.
“What manner of evil is this?” barks the King
But nobody’s listening to him
The people bow down and they worship this THING
That hisses like vengeance unhinged.
If a lightning storm could be made out of fur
And studded with razors that shred,
Deep malice had suddenly sprung into life.
The King promptly whimpered and fled.
“I’m betrayed!” squeaks the King, with his mind in a whirl
Overcome with dark visions of dread.
Now he sleeps with the Enemy, curled in a ball…
It’s that, or he doesn’t get fed.
Wendy Anne Darling, July, 2016.
And so, the day comes, when yet another friend goes home.
When all sins are forgiven
When they glow like a saint with a wonky halo.
When we choose to forget the multitudinous mornings
That we picked up trash and uttered curses
Stepping on coffee grounds and squishy somethings
After another night’s food-foraging.
Where we wish we could, just one last time,
Be mugged for half a sandwich.
Dammit… we’d even MAKE the sandwich!
You have been loved…