Speak to me; inundate with your eyes until the fields are awash, now and forever in the pink city of my heart where we stand before each other— feverish and yet willing to bridge the chasm with wretchedness forgotten. Come what may; we must convey through a single ignition of this phrase, taste the saltiness of each other’s views and opinions; isn’t this what Persephone initially dreamed of? I have seen many a cloud shudder when the earth’s shook with flowers, a cross between blood red and fuchsia— dear harrowed, hapless and hurting, I am conscious of sharp tang of emotional trauma and pain, let your song hurtle through the startled air, uninhibited. Sweet is the promise of rain after a long drought, let me be the answer; let me be the answer.
Basket of figs is enough to wish upon; saccharine, swirling dark empty spaces, do they really exist for us to lose ourselves in? For the avoidance of doubt the chords of guitar have marked these fingers, they are washed all over faded denim snug, ripped at the knees and hot. I’d like to think the one you conceal from everyone is visible to me and my breath only; stirred, the winter wind continues to blow now that the leaves from the sugar gum trees have fallen, they are so proud as though carob skin was their glory all along- they are instruments meant to cajole the swooping birds; won’t you listen, the bluegrass is something of a wonder that beckons even from a distance.
They say only the south wind flattens grass; blows through with a force, a song so confidently sung as easy as summer daydreams— won’t you take a moment and hear what it has to say? I have always loved the wind; loved the way its giddy currents flow through woodland canopies unaware of how it can soothe those who can sense, there are times when I can feel it within, the push and swirl that stirring to show what is solidly there— the myriad hues of new beginnings are punctuated in shafts of pink light one need only open their eyes and see; the wind instills the willingness to lay bare one’s heart and soul despite the chance that both could end up sliced to ribbons.
Wisps of silver grey smoke curl and dance their way through the room as though anxious to escape the mouths of perpetrators— is this what it means to abide by? Sickly sweet, I attempt to billow in dense clouds of conversation in the hallway.
Whisper to me now;
always onward, always toward the flow of destiny.
Breaking deliciously off the trees is despair,
specks of mahogany, berry red and brown curl around the edge,
I am untamed,
my subconscious unfrosted unlike leaves at the mercy
of upcoming winter—
tell me, how does one translate emotion?
blushingly see the art of forming words in the shape of mouth—
it is the common failing of human mind,
a malady of sorts
where it continues to undermine, to underestimate itself;
be gone awhile,
I am heeding to the voice of unapologetic empowerment
that’s sounding from the rooftop.
Being unfamiliar with the sky that surrounds, I shied away from it, leaves, these leaves are a sole witness to the hues in me; why is it that we are constantly shoved away from the child in us? The narrowing streets, I am reminded of poetry by Frost during times like these, soon the foliage around will alter from gold to brown – I have imagined them like a garish quilt over the ground, perhaps if I saw them, I would write verses half as brilliant as the ones before me.
We are constantly told to be different, to be bold, part of me wants to breathe and close my eyes, perhaps observe the trees caught between beauty and solemn earthy tones; we are so obsessed in keeping up with the pace of the world that we forget to appreciate the small things, the leaves have much to say about taking a more confident lead each day.
With footsteps forward my dreams of soaring with gulls will I remember?
Kim is our hostess at dVerse where shes invites to write about a time when you last watched stars, a storm, the
ea, an animal, or something else in nature that left you
with a sense of wonder or awe. Come join us! 💝
Posted for Haibun Monday: Being but Human @ dVerse Poets Pub