Repurposed

He was sitting on
The curb
Along with the weekly
Bins of trash.
Why? I wondered,
Who put
Him there, under
The sweltering
Sun? Yet,
I was afraid to ask.
I leave the business
Of others,
As much as I can,
To them, alone.
However,
His smile seemed
A mystery, asking
Much of
Me and his eyes
Blazed an uncanny blue.
He spoke
Well and was inclined
To be my friend;
I guess
Those and others are
Reasons how I came
Now, ever,
To have a presence
In my home
To whom I may never
Ascertain who once
Did belong.

The Occasion of Becoming 57

Appearance

I am the one who is real
Enough you feel me in the room
Even though I keep a distance
Between the breaths that pulse,
Our lives existing here, this time.
My lightness rimmed in shadow
Hard to comprehend, understand,
Left alone, a ringing voice, clear
Crystal, like water reverb, falling,
Tinkling clarion bells announcing
Events to which everyone is welcome.
The sweet aroma on the fresh breeze
Being myself, almost, yet not me
Because the well is deeper, wider,
I know not how to plunge, emerge,
I reach the stars and still soaring
Never come home to be housed,
I walk the spaces, other embracing places
Of times disremembered, unrecorded,
In the echo caverns of my wandering mind.

Release

Love, if I had it
Like a stone, firey, lit, smoky,
Flowing like a fair fountain
Not accounted with foundation
But a wild gift, surging freedom
Sprightly on a brisk bracing breeze
Never to be captured, kept,
A mystery, calling always
For my energy, all of me
To run unhampered
Over miles with
Reckless
Speed.

Settle

Should be old enough for calm
Sedate, quiet, unassuming,
Ah, you read me wrong
The race still calls me
I should tarry, but
My muscles ache
To find more
Freedom
And so I am
Now off apace
Quick to find a path
Away into the distance
Where I may surely climb
To heights so far unconquered
Making them finally mine to own.

Gratitude

It is with a full heart
I come upon this day
Which so often I came
Near missing, slipping
Into the deep silence
That does not ever allow
Voices to relay their thanks.
Another year, and what there
Is to show for the effort
Of survival and the witness
Left of growth, I show,
Many a word, verse, rhyme
And a deed or two of merit,
But most dear friends
The evidence that I remain
Surviving and pleased
I made another revolution
Fruition of enchanted
Love blessed days.

I guess I will relieve you of the burden of reading further my celebrations, incantations, prayers of being alive at this fine juncture in my personal evolution. Forgive me, for birthdays come but once a year, and God has amply blessed me that I am still here. It is a certifiable miracle, and that is why I cheer.

What May Be

There is a complexity
A complication though free
To love’s grande intricacy.
Appearance, availability,
Costs, mood, place, state, time,
Almost everything must align
For romance, and still a variable
Unrecognized at the first
Might unbalance the combination
Causing the love affair to fail.

Sometimes though a voice heard,
Eyes meeting across a room,
An accidental melding of minds,
And the magic happens
Making some people say,
“Love is a fool and blind.”

Now, ever how you find it
Make yourself the time
To allow your heart the reins
Your mind to feel its pleasure,
For surely it is worth some trouble
To entertain the sublime;
A love that makes you happy
And a little crazy sometimes.

2020.07.04 Carousel Horses rr

What do you have to say about love, do you see it all rosy, or contentious? As a prompt, explore your thoughts and feelings and create something how you will.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. I hope you are having a glorious Independence Day if you are in the USA, and if you are elsewhere, I hope the best of happiness finds you. You may follow the site by making use of the button, or should you better like, come back when able.

Four Seasons Mine

I was a bream on
Summer days when boats on lakes
Did drown in radiant sun,
I scantily clothed did ski upon
The surface of olive waters.
I was a part-way-er
In the glorious golden ruby
Of Fall when bedded
In fresh fallen leaves lying
On fading brittle grass.
As Winter came, a storm,
I was a bundle scarcely knowable
For layers framed me in;
Snow, though seldom, was my friend
With its kind spherical men.
When Spring sang love aloud
I was called from my long idle
Embracing the soil, sky, clouds,
That brought me smudged to be washed
After hours of running wild, a rush.