two dollars well spent
for a flickering fire calming my mind
for soft conversations all around me
for a comfy chair
and hot hazelnut coffee
and for a change of scenery to inspire my soul
a two dollar investment
in my sanity
in my serenity
in my creativity
a Beltane blessing
not a union
but a reunion with myself
two dollars gave me more than just coffee
and internet and shelter from the cold
today, two dollars helped me rekindle my spirit
urged me to step out of my boxes
to rejoin the world and find peace in being alive
putting pen to paper
fingers to keys
bares (bears) my heart and soul
to any who care to read
it purges the mental and emotional
garbage I’ve fed on
relieving that nauseated feeling in my brain
I write to find my path
through the maze of my own tangles
to illuminate reality
I write to pull myself out of pits
and ravines I’ve trod in my own psyche
building ladders and stairways
to a more balanced place
It is something I have been wondering
was I destined to be this woman
or is this simply the creature you made of the clay of my psyche?
Was this the truth of my soul
or was this woman molded of your desires
your hopes, your dreams?
Charts and optimal dates and preferential temperatures. One line or two. As if she could summon whatever it is that makes up the human soul as easily as she could a cab on a busy New York avenue.
There had to be an easier way, but if there was, she hadn’t discovered it. So Brid kept notes. A little black book filled not with names and seven digits, but with the passage of time.
Not my usual fare, obviously, but I accepted the challenge of to pair with someone for Trifecta’s anniversary, and this is my part. The prompt is the first part, in italics. We were challenged to continue the story. My partner is kgwaite, and I can’t wait to see her continuation!
my fingers reach, arched and delicate
poised for a single stroke
or many perhaps, depending on the mood
they tremble, eager to release
to relieve the pressure of holding back
my lip caught between my teeth
eyes close a moment
then a breath escapes me and I sigh
finally I move
eager to release the words pent up
within my soul
fingers delicate across the keys
spilling words upon a screen
eliciting smiles and murmurs of delight
my verse revealed
stares back at me
the exhibitionist in me baring her soul
the briefest glimpse of my anima
Velvet Verbosity asked us to explore the ways in which writing makes us tremble this week, and this is my approach to that. Enjoy!
Photo is my own, taken at the Generalife gardens in Granada, Spain
sit alone in the quiet dusk
a recipe for introspection
each tangled thought a link to the next
empty chairs scream dangerous words
walls become transparent
like chain-link fences forming invisible barriers
from the world outside
leaving the heart trapped
tangled in a net of its own creation
wounded souls need time and space
to heal and grow
need to flex and stretch beyond their bounds
to improve their range of emotion
Trying to get back in the habit of writing every day. I need it, to give my soul an outlet, as my moodiness lately can attest to.
This was written for this week’s wordle at Sunday Whirl. Click through, and go check out what others have written.
I would give my everything to you,
let your word become my paradise.
As each new day turns I enfold you
within my senses, swallow you whole.
Let your word become my paradise and enliven my soul,
and I will challenge my heart and mind to
ever reveal themselves to yours.
As each new day turns I enfold you in needful arms.
My body aches for yours to be nearer, our inevitable
parting an agony to be endured.
Within my senses I swallow you whole and devour
every precious morsel. You sustain me with every breath,
every word, every touch, every glance.
Poetic Bloomings asked us Wednesday to write a Trimeric poem, and I’m just now getting around to it. This could use some polish, I think, but I really like the form.
there are colors we know
the almost indigo of crocuses heralding the spring
or deepest ebony, the hue of grief
perhaps vibrant crimson, the flowers of a bride’s bouquet
but there are colors we don’t know
seen only by those who accept the wonder in the world
there is the seductive color of a woman’s swaying hips
drawing men to her presence
there is the blush of dawn, it’s stillness and joy
painted in the morning’s sky
these colors are not seen with the eyes
but with the soul
windows into a massive world of magic and spectacle
Hadn’t intended on this being included for Velvet Verbosity’s Prompt from E.B. White, but it it the right word count and fit so well. I wrote it using most of the words from The Sunday Whirl’s prompt Wordle 57 – A Baker’s Dozen.
though you are there
and I am here
our hearts, our souls are not separate
we cannot be driven apart so easily
we cannot be outside one-another’s existence
you are my life, my breath
you are the smile on my lips
the warmth in my chest
between my thighs
you drive me to live
to become a better woman
to open myself and expose my soul
there you are,
bouncing around in my thoughts
you rattle like a serpent
but there’s no threat
there is only an ache,
a silent scream
ever mindful of your place in my mind,
in my heart
making your claim on my soul