Poem: Wings Ashen

wind made my blue skies grey

and I've been carrying them over my shoulders

ever since, my back bent under the burden of baggage

the things my mind couldn't solve

it chose to cling onto, to maybe someday

understand, but it only wears me down

until in an avalanche they come

cascading down, and my chest

having trouble finding air... I stop

among the shadows I cast

- shades of choices made colour them –

I see the one with wings ashen

like a slave to hope it gazes far ahead

and I wonder if the wind is coming

to make my grey skies blue

*

Written as poetry prompt for Magpie, the mag #196. 

Poem: Disarmed

we were drunk on LOVE –

it dripped down our throats like water

                with such ease, we never dared question

answers to the should've? could've? would've?

                seem to fail us, leaving us certain we went the wrong way

but there is no storybook simple path

                they are what they are, no matter what names we give them

                and only if we follow we see where they lead

take the good with the bad and break the shell

just like wine ages, memories form into pearls

                what we are now, was decided in the past

what we will become requires devotion to time

we can't be the same as we were when we met

for we ignited feelings we could never imagine

like two matches burning together

as the snow gently surrounds the space into silence

then you smile at me – and I'm...

                               DISARMED.

*

Poem: Just be simple

you watch the rain pour over the streets

from the comfort of your room

with an eternal question on your mind

»why isn't this simple?«

as we keep repeating the same creed

high on lust and greed

with one leg chasing the future

and another stuck in the past

how we've learned to skip the now

drunk on appearances and value of money

a single stroke of a drop turns clear into muddy

still we manage to wake up not in horror

at our own freak show

everybody knows the shades of loneliness

and how they creep among us

as we stand like silhouettes of trees in the mist

we devote our energy to the things

that keep our minds sane, in this insane game

reaching new definitions of normality

it takes strength to be gentle and kind

if it hurts, it means it matters and you're doing it right

and you know the comfort of getting lost

- it helps you find yourself

and when you gaze high above yourself you see

                the whole universe smiling back at you

*

Poem: Ripple in the night

Degas, Edgar, Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, négatif 1895-1896.

in silence you danced
    to the rhythm your heart whispered
    flying somewhere through the stratosphere
the only thing to remember
    is to breathe, breathe the eternal grace
    lost in the soft movement between the burning
of a brand new day and fragile remains of the daylight
    listening to the questions of a wanderer
    you flow like a moon's reflection
forever playful and sparkling
    there you were found, in that short part of freedom
    remembering a song of a caged bird
it seemed to you, the mountain knew your very existence
    as if you arrived out of its' hardships and fertile seasons
    it lures you in, like it's your safe net
then you find things you deemed so important
    somehow lost their value
    independently your fingers follow
a ripple started somewhere in the night   
    and in the morning you wish
    to have no regrets

*

Written as a poetry prompt The Mag #193. Took me awhile. As I saw the photograph my mind went to the song "If I be wrong" by Wolf Larsen. It's such a beautiful song.

Poem: Soul Evaporates

wind hurts like a razor

through this fragile armour

never a clean cut

when it comes to emotions

my soul evaporates

from out that shadow

which I cast of myself

all diluted and distorted

church bells are ringing

as if to announce the judgment day

and I wait to see which door will open

fog crawling over the hills

as the coming of a ghost

grabbing by the lungs

leaving unfinished business

like paper boats in the sand

the wind howls – a calling

to return home

breathe me in

- I am yours to keep

*