let the layers fall away,
through the world goes our gaze,
penetrating film and cell alike,
and to the onion say we, dry
your eyes lest candles ignite,
sudden through deep midnight.
Impossible diamonds cascade
and, though we grasp, dreams fade.
Never look at your phone in the middle of the night. Never. I had a dream, and the minute that screen blinded me, I forgot it. 😦
My fingers tingle.
Funny, I don’t recall
I’d say this was a daydream,
but all I see are small hours,
shown around by small hands.
In searching out the
tiny fine things,
have I lost sight of some
Bigger pictures? Or am I simply
putting together slowly
a multitude of jigsaw pieces
in this puzzle we call life?
Somewhere along the way
I looked over a rainbow
what joy there could be
in the crafting of a thing,
in making something well.
My hands are not
the only part of me which has
My heart beats slower with every
waking midnight minute
drowsy, lazy, blank and bored.
Don’t tell me it’s the chemistry.
My poor head would swoon and faint,
so long after nothing was said,
nothing got done.
My hands fall to the blank space,
my heart stirs the muse,
but my eyes drift and linger,
dream and, dreary, fade.
Can’t even see where one day
Begins and another
I know it’s late, but I had to do a good bit of soul searching to get to this point. Considering my current state of mood, I count the few decent lines in there an accomplishment. Anyway, it’s three-whatever in the morning and I don’t even know what I’m writing any more. Enjoy the nonsense 🙂
Can you hear it, underneath the red whirring and white noise?
No, even the sky has lost it, even the sad blue sea.
Our eyes stare, blinded with love, we forget family and
the lovely hum is our lullaby, our lovesong, our life.
Who meditates anymore? Who now has the piece of mind?
We’ve lost the game, the board is full, all money in one hand.
We strain our eyes for the next, the best, and forget the first.
Listen, even our hands have let it go. Listen, it fades.
Do we still dream inaudible? Or is that, too, drowned out?
If we still sleep, we wake ourselves if it gets too quiet.
It must be so cacophonous. What if you stopped to think?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Inspired by both the Poetic Asides prompt to write a poem about machines, and the NaPoWriMo blog challenge to have fourteen syllables in each line.
close those sky blue eyes.
You’ve had a busy day indeed,
creating explosions from buckets of toys,
making masterpieces with markers.
Even for you, baby,
lucky enough to get naps,
this day has been long,
a parade of unfamiliar faces
telling you how very
beautiful you are.
Mommy tells you right from wrong,
yes from no,
good from bad.
But baby just wants to play,
wants to stay
wants her way.
She’s tired and ready
to drift off to sleep,
thumb in her mouth
socks on her feet.
So dream, pretty baby,
of tutus and cars,
of baby dolls and number blocks,
counting songs and stars.
In the morning you’ll be off again,
running in squeaky shoes,
but for now, you just sleep baby girl,
with God’s angels protecting you.
Wrote this for a friend’s little girl, who I was baby-sitting today.
If we studied shadows,
did we understand
the shape of the world?
If we saw moonlight become
blue-hued rainbows through
misty morning fog,
did we abandon liquid gold
for silver streams ethereal
swirling in midnight pools?
If we dreamed of dancing breezes,
which we wish away in sleep,
did we find upon the moonrise
a sprinkling of stars in the dew?
If we listened to the crickets,
who sing for flashing fireflies
with sparks in their hearts,
did we remember campfires,
musing through thrashing shadows,
hypnotized by truths better left
in the dark?