Photograph from National Geographic
My life has often been about chaos
and destruction, a walk into dark alone.
It isn’t pleasant there;
the words I write often sound of black.
But when mindfulness awakes me,
I begin to write of colours and of peace.
Like green is the grass blowing in the wind.
Blue is Neptune spinning round the moon.
Orange is the orange that tastes so good.
Yellow is the sun that warms me to the core.
Red is the colour I could wear and adore.
To finally be able to see
is such a wondrous gift.
There is music in the world,
and rainbows –
sometimes inside of me.
Written for Blognostics Colour Contatenation
This gogyohka dance happened this morning, quite unexpectedly, when @novatwitman stalked and pounced on my tweet of ‘little poem’ ~ it resulted in this magical collaborative twitter poem. You can read more of @novatwitman’s ‘Wicked Thoughts’ here.
Beware little one
in the shadows
lurks the devourer
to his ears
if you must
only darkness hears
me and you alone
takes his bite
to all eternity
His beastly appetite
leans on her alphabet
promise the dictionary
for a bite
He leads her
by the commas
into her ear
verbs and nouns
Her poems wither
merge with his dark words
through forests wild
with the wolf
of the night
lost to his desire
no longer innocent
in forgotten words
two as one
~ finis ~
Sleep like the friend you once knew,
the one who kept you up all night
talking until the clock dropped off,
into the ether pile. Read a book
or write a poem, listening to the crows
that tear the old ideas apart,
hanging from the ceiling
in winding trails of blood.
And think not why you cannot sleep
(or perhaps you should?)
the sea is deep and blind
and still the sun must rise.
This small life is doing fine,
maybe it shouldn’t wake up at all.
Sometimes the cut is too deep,
the wounds bleeding and wide open.
I’m not proud of them, never that.
Bitterness is my failure. I take it daily,
feeling its poison thread through my
veins like a drug. It is too costly to be nice;
like the taste of slow torture,
your tongue tracing the salty tracks
made by the tears that stream down my face.
Some things just betray me,
catching my heart in a vice.
The scent of freedom’s a thrill,
being caught out in your gaze;
the freshly mown grass under my feet;
those days by the river, buzzing with dragonflies,
flitting in a whirl of business and wings.
But this is how it is now,
me keeping my distance
watching from afar. What is better,
safe and comfortable or caught out on a limb?
You did your work well
giving me your pain at the start of my life.
Dark angel of the frozen night
freezes the blood of souls in pain,
and sears the truth right through the brain,
spreads stark despair in black and white,
cries swollen tears within your fears,
with outspread wings in silent flight.
All winds and sunlight he shall reign,
dark angel of the frozen night.
My effort for Monday’s Onestoppoetry form – Octains, invented by Luke Prater