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.

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

Well, Well

There is a well of darkness
in the center of my chest
deep and steep-sided

I throw in a penny
then sprinkle it with tears
for all my wishes that
can never be

It’s so simple, really
falling and falling
and finally hitting bottom

Then I reach down
and draw out
a dipper-full of stars

 

This is for Joy, who has resurrected the Flash Friday 55 tradition started by the late, great Galen Hayes.  Check it out at Verse Escape.

Stepping into Darkness

We step into darkness
both knowing
and not knowing
that we know nothing

With hands
outstretched
feeling along cave walls
we come to
an opening
eyes wide
but unseeing
breeze whispers
at our cheek
if
we only
listen

What oceans, fields, forests
does it carry?
What skies
has it traveled through
just
to touch us?

This is for Joy’s resurrection of Friday 55 at her remarkable blog, Verse Escape.

Autumnal Equinox – FF55

IMG_9515

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.)

Mid-Night

There is a time
closer to night than morning
when parties fall
into ruin
and the moon wearies

There is a time
when dreams are forgotten
and shades
lose their way 

There is a time
when the clock
gives up its hands
and the hours pool
on the ground
running to regret

This is my time

This is for my friend Joy’s FF55 revival at Verse Escape, even though it’s not Friday, and if you’re counting, there aren’t 55 words.