a walking constellation shooting sparks
live wire connected zinging through the dark
in resonance i dance new earth’s daughter
coloring perceptions sunset water
there are no lines. there is no box. morning
moon bold as ripe fruit magnolia’s borning
watching sun paint sky pastels to balance
last night’s blaze. whirling through space i challenge
that castigating vacuous voice: you
cannot stay. booted right out the door through
pain, i’m moving in its wake til grounded
green catches me in its embrace. astounded
lucid dream-change malleable light, i’m
sword-swallower, snake charmer, crystal rhyme
cartwheeling in this slippery dawn. caught
in the drone-elephant in the room, naught
but resign yourself to doom? realign.
leaving a sparkling hint for you to find,
i grab the coursing power in my hands,
gripping its whip it follows my command:
create using superpower magic
wild imagination dissolves manic
inorganic panic. illusions’ sleight
dries like dew. earthing, the key’s in plain sight.
Inspired by: Hint, Elephant and Vacuous.
Featured images: Above, last night’s gorgeous sun painted the lake. Below, this morning’s moon in magnolia watching sun paint dawn.
Now that my mother’s glue has crumbled, men
gather, thunderclouds, new history spin
where I’m to blame for every clout received
and worse. Their guilt inspires them to deceive.
I love this wooded abode by the lake.
(This is not my first rodeo) I wake
in the curves and twists outside the boxes
a lodestone. Observer’s paradoxes
focus exacerbates each problem found.
I dig the roots, reflect and own. Resound
with all the censored trauma til at last
I move through and assimilate the past.
Each word matters. Attention is the code.
So laser sharp intentions I upload
beyond emotion-laden stories I’m
frothy as air dancing like light I chime.
Inspired by the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “ode“, Exacerbate, Frothy as air and Resound.
Featured image: How to capture a magical light show as sun dances on the ripples of the water? I tried.
Sunrise paints a glorious rosy burst
outside my window so it’s camera first
and rhymes follow as it fades. Ducks waddle
through shore grasses as starstruck I dawdle.
This throng of spirit messengers: bluebirds’
brilliant plumage muted in dawn’s light; words
pin perceptions to past. Being outlasts
and sweeps away the stories with a blast.
I have no namesake to be molded by
some careless false history. See the sky
in constant change, each feathered mystery
delivering the key to liberty.
Inspired by: Namesake, Window and Throng.