Roots

Dig up the roots,
hack them away!
Topple it down,
it grows too well!

Stop your shovel,
pause your axe.

Would you topple down
the very thing
to the top of which
you must hold?

Up here you see
reason
thought
pattern
wish…

You know each branch,
the quiver of each leaf.
Your tower.
Your mountain.
Your prison.

One day, leave you might,
but it will never die.

~~~

One of my many problems when writing poetry is that I often don’t quite know what to do vis-à-vis punctuation. Too much? Too little? Full stop? Comma? Everything looks wrong.

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Create

Grace in metaphor,
a dancer in candlelight.

Elegance in simile
like a fine lady at dinner.

Weave words, like mysteries.
Start with endings,
no such luxury in life.
Find strands,
grasp them tight.
Make worlds,
shape souls.

Create…

Won’t you tell me?

Silent Villain

We prepare
every moment,
perfection
always envisioned.

And then
we die.

~~~

Not so much under the wire for day 27 as still standing in the queue to place a bet. Today’s (tonight’s) is very brief but on a topic that I constantly wish to cure myself of. Perfectionism, a villain second only to fear.

Without

Find the quietest place in the world,
there light a candle for my soul.
Keep yourself from shadows, my dear,
and the beauty of the light extol.
Explore the lost paths of this world,
hark to the journey without control.

Keep your humanity always,
the spirit and the kindness.
Darkness will reach but
never let it find you lifeless.

Shine without me.

~~~

Prompt response today, Day 26.

Give Me Ancient Places

Never have these fingers touched
centuries old walls.
Never have these feet walked
corridors of  those long gone.

This place is too young,
it’s whispers too quiet.

Give me misty hills
and winding streets.
Give me places with memories
we can never know.

Watch the sun rise over roofs
it has crested a thousand times.
Step out of the shadows
forward down these ancient paths.

~~~

My season of wanderlust has begun and I am craving places more in tune with my heart. I promise I will attempt a proper rhyming poem soon. With a little under a week left in NaPoWriMo, it is nearly time to start planning what to do when April is done. How time scurries away.

Analogue

the advance lever pulls
and I can feel the film move
a frozen moment

digital intricacy
with precision and control
it makes us detached

we protect the film
with it’s delicate beauty
must not let it die