Inspired by writing through a power outage that lasted all morning, and the synchronicity of the OctPoWriMo Day 19 prompts about “being in the present. Dig deep and use words you don’t regularly use” in a new-to-me form called Synchronicity.
I chose the new-to-me cleave poem. As Jane Dougherty explains, “a cleave poem is three in one: left side says one thing, right side says its opposite. Read together they make a third poem.”
This morning, contemplating breaking boundaries, two songs from my impressionable youth emerged, each with lessons. Queen’s banned I Want To Break Free music video and this live Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers version of “Breakdown” (when Tom Petty tells the singing crowd “you’re gonna put me out of a job”). Part of the fairytale narrative I was spoon-fed, today these lessons remind me that “wanting” cages you in lack, so it’s a monumental waste of power. Note to self: Catch yourself saying “I want” and choose “I manifest.” And in the same way, demanding that someone “else” break their boundaries in order to give you something is another trap that leaves you spinning in futility. Note to self: Break down my own boundaries as soon as they become visible.
Featured image: outside shooting with a high shutter speed, different beings only reveal as I look at the images. This bee’s pose is such a gift.
Lyrian lightships like to slip by bedecked black as shadows low horizon circumspect in caricature of clouds no one believes yet here they are. From the back seat I perceive their immensity, sliding across the sky. When filters fade, imagination grows psi as simple constructs of space and time collide how I excel inventing creative rides. This million-dollar image could change closed minds encased in doubt about to be left behind. Lyrian lightships like to slip by bedecked black as shadows low horizon circumspect.
In caricature of clouds no one believes yet here they are. From the back seat I perceive their sheer audacity, mid-afternoon flaunt cartwheeling over an anthill, nonchalant. Secure that we won’t look? Or is this invite to drop into joyful play a sheer delight? No one will stop the car, so a fast shutter speed is my recourse, click, click, click. I utter my surprise, the white clouds puff and play along It’s difficult to hide ships so dark and long. Lyrian lightships like to slip by bedecked black as shadows low horizon circumspect
Their immensity, sliding across the sky! When filters fade, imagination grows psi that swirls beneath what we insist must be real –although handled children are taught: never feel and sense in unknown ways that we created– our visions shaped in rivalry, frustrated Look up, children, at last the paranormal sky-messengers are the tip of what’s normal. Reality is splitting wide, as times’ lines shift. We raise our sights catching obvious signs. Lyrian lightships like to slip by bedecked black as shadows low horizon circumspect.