Yesterday’s Seeds

Eloquent as the eyes of the ancient
soul inside the furry coat. Enchanted
presence. We speak of love in deep silence.
The cords bright that unite us ignite sense

in a newly opened dimension stories
have not degraded, infiltrated squeeze–
And moments of my essence have praised words
those weighted games of flipping neatly verse

fun. One-sided. My saving grace til now
evolves me and I take the leap and how
the instantaneous change flowers. Seeds
long sown in distant lands rooted here. Feed

the words I bring back overused and trite
aim for higher trajectory delight
Love’s spun me with intensity and grief.
I plunge wholeheartedly. The journey’s brief

and what’s reflected all around: chances
inviting you to elegant dances
and you in your dirty jeans feel unseen
unworthy and you bow, subjugation

trained from birth, enslaved by words. Creation
demands: come as you are. Turn off the noise.
A single breath with focus conjoins joys.
Eloquent as the eyes of the ancient.

Inspired by OctPoWriMo Day 24 prompt millstone, an example of which could be a narrative based solely on propaganda and greed. And when I am grieving that words can so easily enslave, this is my cue to look deeply into me and continue, brave.

Regrets

He’s so forgetful, angry and hated
dementia is unsubstantiated.
Days are a confusing spuddle and nights
a muddle of regrets and haunted frights.

In your distance, you deem me petty, spurn
my insight’s assistance and now you’ll learn
losing keys is not an anomaly
uproar and chaos now normality

demanding patient presence addressing
small clues before they worsen, distressing
in an avalanche irreversible
sealing off a land once transversible

where we could have met for a quiet word
instead of calling me absurd, you’d heard
perhaps a semblance of sanity might
have slowed this sorrowed precipitous flight.

Inspired by: Unsubstantiated, Spuddle, Forgetful and Anomaly.

Music of the Spheres

In my body parts celebration, run
a tuning fork vibration, humming. Spun
cobwebs of fine energy electric
respond, settle all the places hectic.

Here I am new and vibrant. I can say
no to the dental X-rays; they don’t play
well in my balance. Not a working stiff,
I’m noodling my own creative riff.

Inspired by: Xray, Celebration, Cobweb and written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday style to the prompt body parts. With a nod to the amazing balance tuning forks create in my body electric.

Featured image: playing “electric” guitar back in 1975.

Complicit No More

You’re under the spell of the ultimate psyop in modern human history.~Sol Luckman

My head is filled with a painting, chasing
words away as I create. Embracing
my vision, studies assist. I start small,
to untwist the gnarl taught by the cabal

which granted no leeway: color inside
the lines! squirming under the teacher chide
I had no pride in my endeavors. Smart,
I chose to shine with poetry, not art.

The parent-teacher conferences agreed
some practicality is what I need.
Left-handed dreamer learned to surf the screed
until at last, sovereign, I intercede

on my behalf. The joy as I splatter
vivid colors on to canvas. Matter
drips and splashes. Daubs and splotches cohere
sun birthing into ocean now appears.

Inspired by: Assist, Conference, Gnarl and Leeway, reimagining my own past as a spin on OctPoWriMo Day 22, and the joy welling in my heart as I stand and live in my sovereign power.

Featured image: Taken on the east coast of Florida, the inspiration for today’s painting.

Mist-ified

Foggy consecutive dawns on the lake
an insistent melody I partake
all present urge me to wake. Past mistakes
encapsulate my fate. Like ghostly wraiths

who haunt the surface, manipulate air,
pushed by the sun away. Still I am snared.
Nebulous traps of my own devising
sing me to sleep without analyzing.

The narrative perpetual sedates
hypnotically effectual mandates
like senseless nursery rhymes reveal crimes
hazy and obscure til consciousness chimes.

The infiltrated group-mind lulls to sleep
with promises and lies intertwined keep
me like a servant giving energy
to the dark forces feeding frenziedly.

Inspired by: Consecutive, Melody, Encapsulate, Effectual and the OctPoWriMo Day 20 theme of community.

Featured image: These consecutive cool predawn mornings are foggy and eerie until the sun chases all the illusions away.

Through The Fog

Fog rises from the water like remnants
of feelings cast off and creeping tenants
in dream-houses huddled and eerie ghosts
unspeakable unspoken stories, most

of which we know where neurons jitter-spark
recomposing our essence unremarked.
Our bodies caught, shifting twisting nightmare
fitful drenching in sweat deep mal de mer

we gasp for air, quaking in dark, misled.
A heron glides in right over my head.
The sky is pinking in the west beyond
the gold-tipped trees. My soapbox screed foregone

as dawn’s mystical incantation spells
the way to create new life and live well.
Belted kingfisher’s rattle fills the air.
I empty all past knowing, sit, aware.

Inspired by: Remnant, Neuron, Screed, Incantation and the #OctPoWriMo Day 19 theme storytelling.

I Can See Clearly

I’m the cautionary tale, canary
in the mine. If there’s a toxin buried
even layered in the air, the fumes scorch
sensitivities, a five-alarm scourge

If you see me melt or swinge, apprehend
cast not for blame. Break hypnotic trance. Wend
your way to cleanse. Hug a tree. Breathe fresh air.
Ground, earthing, center. Sound electric prayer.

Aiming for high trajectory, I burn
illusions. With respect for me, I yearn
to model what I’ve learned. Disintegrate
past’s chains, the patterned prate repudiate.

Inspired by: Hypnotic, Scorch, Cautionary and Blame.

Featured image: The lake is exceptionally beautiful today; I’m counting down the days to departure.

Clearly Illusions

The vibrant red cardinal is an uplifting, happy sign that those we have lost will live forever, so long as we keep their memory alive in our hearts.~Lori Vanover

Call me balmy, huddled in fleece, at peace
on this porch. Intent. I carry a torch
for a lake. Morning calm, daily release
the last vestige of a vintage deceased.

I create a new life. Intuition
rife so I can’t be bamboozled. One
robin slams into the newly cleaned glass.
I gasp. Feathers stick and float. Now a bass

splashes, crashes into mirror-smooth mere,
reaches me here with a repugnant jeer.
I’m not immune to tricks. The fine print bores
in language of new leases and the tours

a whirlwind of doors slamming. Not the space
of sanctuary I seek to replace.
A bright red cardinal flutters in vain
to pierce pristine windows. I do the same.

Inspired by: Repugnant, Vestige, Bamboozle and Balmy.

If I Move

You come and pour yourself on me.~David Gates, If.

If I move to Montana’s star-spangled
nights, resolve all these dissonance-tangled
overcast skies, will you come, harmonize
with wildlife we espy? I realize

the brutal winters’ temperature extremes
will affect our dreams in ways unforeseen.
That’s the way of ifs. We, unknowing, leap
into the falls above icy streams. Keep

our heads above water until we’re thrust
into the consequences of blind trust.
You say we must discuss this, we’re too old,
believe there’s safety staying in the fold

crumbling mementos, breathing in their dust.
If everything is falling, then we must
imagine new, journey alone, return
the monstrous swindle group-think fraud unlearn.

I’ll write, I promise, every single day.
Present inspired intuitive arrays
outside the mainstream’s fear-mongering byplay
my derring-do and brave new world display.

Inspired by: Resolve, Star-spangled, Swindle, Espy and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt to start with if.

Featured image: Another foggy Indiana fall morning.

Duck Tales

The wonderful thing about tiggers, is tiggers are wonderful things.

The three-legged one-eared cat’s eying ducks
from the cold wet shore, grisly spying. Clucks
and quacks but no alarm. She cannot harm
them, so it seems, from my table of dreams.

Kingfisher’s arrival and the rain drive
awkward limping. Foiled again. The ducks dive
bottoms up, intent on feeding, unware
and unheeding, just like me. I take care

to be here now, dismiss the puerile fears
and danger bleats from unenlightened peers.
Each step reveals. I hold my lantern bright.
Aware, aimed at the highest path of life.

Inspired by: Table, Cold, Grisly and Puerile.

Featured image: Tigger, my neighbor’s once feral cat, hunting in the rain this morning and revealing the lesson I most need in this exact moment. (Sorry it’s so blurry; it was dark!)