I love the feeling I get
sitting in the early morning dark
just before the sun comes up
this time is precious
to me
fleeting
dark and silent
my secret time, alone
except for my dog
and my thoughts
before I have
to face the day
the world
the sun
Dark
NaPoWriMo #18
Like a blind dog
searching for water
we use our other,
inadequate senses
as best we can.
Can we sniff out love,
or salvation
in this dark, mortal chamber?
Ok, this needs work, like the “can./ Can”, so close together in lines 5 and 6, but right now I can’t take the time to fiddle with it. Another one to come back to.
Steep
The hills call siren-like and steep.
Two children share a wooden sled,
new snow is beckoning and deep,
the hills call siren-like and steep.
They landed in a shattered heap,
too fast to suffer, it was said.
The hills called siren-like and steep.
Two children shared a wooden sled.
Well, this started out to be a quadrille (44 words) including the word “steep” to link to dVerse Poets’ Pub, but somehow it turned into a dark triolet. Theat’s an eight line, iambic tetrameter poem with the rhyme scheme: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines. I haven’t written one of these in ages.
January Pre-Dawn
Early morning
stars,
so sharp
they cut through
the blue-black back drop
of icy air,
hang above
staccato yips and cries
of coyotes
so close,
as if I could
nearly
reach them
if I stretched – or
perhaps they could reach me, teach me
the desperate, wild
longing
in their cries
Wordless – 55
There are
things older than words
dark, feral things
without form
that gather in my mind
and crowd my throat
pushing down
against the back of my tongue
Or, at times, they rest
thick and heavy
in the ends of my fingers
and the tip of my pen
as I try to write
even now.
Once upon a time, a wise man named Galen began writing 55 words on Fridays. And he invited others to joined him. Then one, sad day he left us. But a good witch, Hedgewitch, took up the 55 and carried it for as long as she could.
I think of these people every time I manage to coax 55 words from wherever it is they come from.
26
I sit with the moon
when everyone else
is tucked away, dreaming
I recite the stars
like a litany
rolling them
around my mouth
touching each tooth
one by one until I have
emptied the sky
1
I look
to the sky
as I draw the dark
around my shoulders
With a shiver
I contemplate
the cold, impossible light
of stars
so fair
so far
away
Here we go…
Photo from Public Domain Images
Halfway
Searching for pockets of kindness
we huddle in doorways
fingering the scraps of our dreams
we are
halfway out of the dark
but the sun
is pitiless
Autumnal Equinox – FF55
Light and shadows dance
through the ages
flashing, winking, spinning
And now the time begins
when shadows enfold the light
when we turn
to darker thoughts
with shorter days
and colder nights
when blossoms are spent
and fruits have ripened
The growing season is over
prepare your garden
prepare your soul
winter is on the way
This is for Joy, who has resurrected FF55 at Verse Escape. Go there and see what it’s all about. (Photo is by me.)
Nightmare Lullaby
I am standing in the dark.
Suddenly there is a keyboard
around me
like a corkscrew
reaching up, farther than I can see
The floor is gone.
I am floating
with the black and white keys
spiraling down,
down
and disappearing
to a
point.
I begin to play.
The tune is discordant
full of dread
but I can’t stop.
I feel the flapping of wings
just beyond my face,
just out of view
When I look down my hands have
turned into knives
stabbing the
keys which
now spurt blood
everywhere.
And still the dreadful
song goes on
Over in the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Bjorn has shown us some nightmarish art and asked us to write about our own nightmares. Click on the link and check it out.
In Other Words 