Poetry

ON

tumblr_lxbk0qmFPR1r04h2no1_500My thoughts unconsciously swim around in my head with an unnerving alertness. My eyes are heavy and my brain feels numb. I breathe, write, pray, listen to music but the sirens don’t shut off.

I wish I still had my sleep tonic spoon fed by my beloved. The hand that aids me in my console now isn’t as kind or practical. I’m on until it’s gone and I find the strength within to resign to the pure bliss of falling in love again.

This time my story is going to look very different and my songs, breath, prayers and words will be acknowledged in a way that continues to lift my spirit and help me become one.

I’ll lay my head down to rest and easily drift to dreams. I won’t have to be on.

image found at blackswandive.tumblr.com

Advertisements

Refrain

file4821300966298 copy

The feeling of happiness can blissfully
intoxicate, but certain resolve sometimes
allows for none.

Fear to anxiety
Anxiety to hiding
Hiding to depression
Depression to despair
Despair to retrieve …

Consoled by red wine, pardoned with vomit; fairy dust awakens and cutting is arresting.
All accepted as a social conundrum.

Judgment to responsibility
Responsibility to anxiety
Anxiety to faith
Faith to action
Action to performance …

Beliefs about fate and gratitude swirl around.
There are moments of prickling ups without the use of harmful aids.
I’m integrated with the social norm.

Pressure to keep it going, angered by dull overseers and imprisoned by a repetitive ballad restarts the rhythm.

Searching for something means that there is something worth finding. And no matter how small or big that something is, and regardless of being able to clearly articulate it, “it” does exist. Close your eyes, lay still and see it now. Cycles will come and go, thoughts and feelings will alter, and time ensures that no one is exempt from finding their glory.

Your song will change.

image: morgueFile

Little Girls

morguefile.com

Exploring wooded areas, summer berries and making jam, storytelling on Christmas eves, braids at Easter, Sunday morning scribes, dollhouses and blue birds.
Carefree, inquisitive and evolving, we shared secrets.

When we got older, we were bound to be happy again, meeting at each other’s sun-filled homes for coffee, gossip, laughter and succor.

Tucking feelings away, frigid chills and learning inhibitions, lying about our truths, screaming vanities, hidden talents, substances and hounds.
Scared, dispassionate and dying, we buried family secrets.

I prayed every night that things would change; you would discover something that gave you peace, courage and restored health. Certain memories erased.

Paralyzed sensibilities and a cancerous grief cultivated a very disillusioned sense of obligation. But there has to be a point where grief unfolds wings of flight above oceans delight.

Following suit and becoming an intrepid explorer again, I will be okay with blackberry stains and will wait a little longer before straining. Pretty pinions, perfumed memories and heavenly song will give me that strength.

I have faith that one day I’ll come across them again.

image: morguefile.com

If I Were a Cat …

bwwilla

I wouldn’t have to go to work.

I could sleep in.

I would make it obvious when I needed attention.

I would know when to offer support to those who were willing.

I wouldn’t judge.

I could play like a kitten, even if I were older.

I would not wear skinny jeans.

I wouldn’t wear anything at all.

I would put my sharper instincts to better use.

I would enjoy my solitude.

I could find joy in the simple things.

I’d have more gratitude.

I would not take medications.

I could eat if I were hungry.

I would not feel ashamed of my body.

I’d love it.

I would not isolate.

I’d play with shiny things in the sun.

I would have trust.

I could curl up next to a loved one.

I’d love everything except pills and loud noises.

I would use my claws to protect myself and my vocals to get my needs met.

I could chase butterflies instead of unwarranted desires.

I’d leave my bathroom a mess.

I would feel welcomed wherever I go.

I’d be a better listener.

I could dream on your lap.

I wouldn’t leave without you knowing I’d come back.