Snow swiftly approaches.
Flurries hurry my way.
From the swirling sky, flakes float down collecting on the entire town,
piling up on rooftops, coating every inch with an icy shine.
Floppy ears retreat into the earth, under the slush filled street.
Covering everything in white, filling me with rotten spite.
Yearning for sunlight, the cold touches my nose and transforms me into all of my woes.
A grouch who loathes soggy socks and frost ridden toes,
I’ll stay hidden until spring.
A grinch in need of a pinch, awake me from this crystal stinging nightmare.
I’ll laugh and smile like a king among flowering blossoms.
Longing for the warm breeze, to lounge like leaves on the trees.
Author: Denise
Bird Calls
In the darkness of the night a bird calls out,
Flying looking for its home,
The tree it flew from has been cut down,
The birds wings grow tired but it continues to look,
What fool chopped this tree?
It was me.
I swung with my axe and set the wood ablaze.
Only after did I realize that this tree had a soul.
The soul lives on and haunts me when the sun falls.
Echoing bird calls daunt my ears,
Feathers flash flaunting before my eyes,
Of all my faults, this is the greatest.
I could not see what was before me,
All of the love and soul in your eyes,
Passed me by, I realized late.
Now it is my fate to hold this heavy pain in my chest, full with guilt.
Bursting heart, a cloud heavy with water and nowhere to rain it down.
If it were still standing, the bird would make its home again in this tree,
Even if the tree has no leaves, even if the tree is bent and twisted,
The bird would bow at the sight of it.
Chalice of Sand
Fixing this would be like gluing a portion of sand back into the ceramic chalice it once was.
I’ve tried to find each granule in the desert.
Through hopelessness, I strived to search for each missing spec,
but a storm blew all of the pieces in different directions.
Alone, I traveled, still looking.
Famished in despair with broken breaths of air.
Fallen at your feet, still you don’t seem to care.
I stand, move forward, choking as I sift the sand.
Cold eyes stare as I fight to bring it back together.
Under your glare, I stack the grains.
Squinting into the sunlit grit, eyes burning with pain.
Still you bend back my scrambling fingers in disdain.
Emotions beginning to wane,
heartbreak stain bleeding through to my seeding mind.
Finding doubt in each fleck of sun-drenched rock.
I lost myself in the particles flicked behind.
Searching for meaning in a meaningless void,
while you enjoyed watching as I unearthed everything you had already destroyed.
The chalice was meant to share with you.
Malice ruined the chance.
Hope did not relent as I balanced on a thin wire of love and hate.
You shook the wire to watch me fall;
caught in your arms, reassured, you set me back upon the wire only to shake it again.
If I allow this to go on, my fate will match the chalice,
broken into a fine dust blowing across the desert crust.
The Collapse of Fear
The knowledge of
desperation trembles
within my palms.
The understanding of
suffering clings
onto my heart.
The feeling of
hopelessness is dense
in the surrounding air.
The debilitation of
sickness is cast
into my body.
The swift absorption of
bad influence is struck
into my eyes.
The empathy of
undeserved pain collapses
my senses.
The reflex of
fear crumbles under
a strong spirit.
Castle of Mist
We are wandering in a maze of empty motives, infertile soil, superficial determination.
Adamant over a droplet, floating over a sea of salt.
Courageous for water crackers,
forceful for feathers.
Caring over empty craters,
cowering under mindless debaters.
Water a bare patch of soil while the fake fluorescent sun blinds with its watts.
Dedicated to a vanishing world, overrun with marketed thoughts.
Convinced to give up dreams, in favor of a false world and hollow word.
Chatter and clamor about immaterial, never to manifest concepts.
Effort for Wind.
Drifting directives, belief in meaningfulness invented out of nothingness.
A castle built of Mist. Defend it as though it is made of Diamond.
As though it holds a secret purpose no one knows. That no one will ever know.
Diamonds invisibly floating in the mist,
coating us with incandescent polish, so easily wiped off.
Glimmer while you can.
Keep your mind in this place of illusion – inside the lie we gleam.
Inside the lie, we are sane.
Stacks of puffy paper, crinkled edges.
We fight for dull green, wrinkled sheets, dirtied white, we fight.
To break out – Free yourself from the maddening cycle of what you’ve convinced yourself is real.
To realize just the opposite is true.
Your priorities placed for you, on a sheet of melting ice in the Castle of Mist.
Soul of Valor
Absorbed into amorous eyes, glowing sad.
Subtle stumble upon the bumble bee of destiny, love-stung, supple, swollen, sweet honey.
Princely pride stolen from a shy, shielding stance.
Reaching face wielding the familiar unknown.
Feelings that are sown must relearn to be open.
Heaven’s rumble roars, heaving clamor into gated chambers and through closed doors.
Champion of sunken hearts, chiseled charms calling lovers to arms. Chance-start christens two parts under one star starting to fall.
Cucumber Wind
Cool crisp cucumber wind,
Drifting children are drawn to the scent of refreshing refuge from the fall,
Down the cucumber mall,
Clean sweet slices of rejoicing silence,
Familiar, even to those who crawl,
Among fields of rice, one cucumber farm persists.
One place for the abandoned to be re-found,
One quiet man sprinkles seeds abound.
Muddy waters filter clean through the thick green cucumber skin.
Quiet mouths, peaceful minds, grow healthy cucumber rinds,
Delicate hands, happy hearts pull juice from the sand, filling the cucumber core.
Beyond the mountain, along the shore, the steamy fog sweeps in over-night,
Rejuvenating any memories lost or semblance of spite,
Tossing away any worries to a blur.
The only cure for a burdened soul, where a pure cucumber is all you own.
The earth owns your life, in return, you sown its land with cucumber for all.
Once lost, now among the same,
pulled from the earth in early spring to reclaim, the crystals of the soil,
cucumber queen and cucumber king.
Floral Arrangement
Fervent Flowers; flourishing,
Dynasty of Petals; the crown seated a top an empire of ether.
Explosion of Pollen; exposing scent, bees are attent.
Storm of Stems; thunder of thirst swells growth.
Orchestra of Leaves; organic sound, shading the ground.
Bombardment of Buds; bustling, struggling for power.
Collaboration of Color; kingdoms unite, calling all eyes.
Water is their Inspiration, it forgives and soothes from the core outward.
Sun is their Salvation, it compels them toward enlightenment.
Wind is their Whisper, it calls to your nose and brushes past your ear.
You are not their owner.
You are a mere onlooker privileged by the magnificence of seemingly simple life.
… One Year Later
One year later I finally decided what my blog should be … a place to collect my random poems that I have written over the past decade of my life. Enjoy!
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