Plying Forms

The broken bottle
Lying in an amber spill,
The stools toppled like
Memories of a cherished past;
Who were we, thinking love lasts?

The music was such,
Bright magic in which we could play,
Until we forgot
We were only mortal too,
Disassociating us.

I said, “I love you,”
Because I have, always will.
You answered, “I know,”
And that is the reason, dear,
We were never together.

In the eaves lie leaves
Scattered, plastered like these dreams
Only echoing;
Waste to be driven away
Discarded on barren ground.

Sometimes I write us like a new thing as if we shine diamond bright. In reality, we were the stolen pleasure of a season, a forever consisting of only a few love drunk nights. The dust, rust, tarnish gather as the moments further recede into the emptiness of history.

I have hidden all
There remains of my power
But more battles come;
I will not whimper, beaten,
I shall don my armor, sword.

Walking toward what
Defines this deviant hour,
Ready to exclaim,
“The past fades into distance,
Our present embraces a change.”

Your touch sends ripples,
Sensation through my body,
After so long, much.

Bubble Over

Sometimes there is nothing,
But if you hold on, keep going,
You may discover everything.
Life keeps right on giving
Amidst times both good and bad,
Love shows up unexpected
Bringing joy you never had.
Look for the happiness
Make it if you must, you have
Within you the wonder, the purpose,
To become whatever you wish.
Believe, never give up, you are
Strong enough to gather
All you need to change
Any situation, dare to capture
The courage residing in you
Make your dreams come true
Change the world that holds you.
Be bold, be brave, do not allow
Others to tell you who you are;
For only you, yourself has
The right and power to define you.
Your creativity, passion, love
Are what is needed now and always,
To lift lives and let others see
We, everyone, can be free.

Today it seems the words are most insistent. I cannot escape them; they keep coming strong. I have my doubts about them because they seem no audience to find, but I keep trying. Poets writing poems, it could be a thing. I make it mine anyway. I hope maybe with the post of this; I can pull away. I get tired of inciting no interest, and I have an abundance of other things; I should do. Usually, though, when the muse takes over, I lay everything aside and let what words come, that bubble up, from inside.

Elective Activities…

Seeing with new eyes
All the times we almost had
Ahold of the precious prize,
But our gaze was called astray
Fingers slipped over broken edges
And sudden walls blocked our way.
The question justly arises,
Can we grasp new horizons
Getting our self-satisfaction
With blatant mediocrity
Over to the side, out of our lane?
Trouble speeds like a missile
Targeted to do incalculable damage
Causing fatal amounts of pain,
But our vision is alive again.

Writing seems the entree today. Not accomplishing much else, and I can live with that circumstance. This poem has a political edge to it, but it is also about the simple actions of continual living.

I hope you will take some time to create something today. Most often, it is the way I keep myself from spontaneously combusting. As a prompt, you might think of the state of the world currently and create something which provides your take on it, either from a personal perspective or more wide-ranging.

Unveiled

Hearts across forever
Dreaming of the times being
Together were ours;
How we never considered
Separation would break us.
Distant now apart,
There is no recapturing –
What we held, again,
We wonder how the moments
Could pass so quickly away.
How could we gain one
Another, then have it all
Stolen from our days?
Death a cruel stranger passing
Silently into dreams, we made.
Against this horrid taking
The cries arise at night
And with the day bright light,
No relief, no rest, no forgetfulness;
Only emptiness, dreadful space
Where our lives joined in
A multitude of beautiful ways.
Living now so shallow, constant shadow,
Where joy once kept the pain at bay.
Nevermore, nevermore, whatever
Hope remains, there must be readiness
To accept love’s willingness to invade
Reanimating the heart, dismissing the shade.
A moment, an hour, a day, time ever
Continues and life we must living partake
Love surrounds us for God never forsakes;
We, one another have, to inspire our
Ongoing from this present to futures
Our constant choices describe, make.

Pondering Extremities…

Somehow, sometime, there
Is a chance of change, to be,
When happy becomes,
Taking over history;
Love, money, all the little things.
The smiles wild blasting
Able to overcome all
The mosquito troubles,
Discounted into oblivion;
Until they, undead, rise again.
I look, for once, at you,
Wondering, could we be real
Becoming something more
Than beneficial friends?
Remembering how I fail,
Time and time, always again;
I turn myself around,
Expecting to walk – because
I cannot survive another breaking –
Of my oft shattered, tattered, torn heart;
But this time, maybe, one time,
My dice roll different numbers;
The soul of love knows the game,
Infinitely well, it gathers and tells.
Your hand brushes my shoulder,
My leaving, I hesitate, wait,
You softly whisper, “Will you stay?”
Going no longer seems
The needful thing to do
I get a hopeful glimpse
Of what might happen if
I chose to embrace my dreams.
Life evolves from complication,
To a rising sense of simplicity
And living all on my own
Becomes a rumor overwritten
By secret looks, shared music, laughter,
Bathed in acceptance and respect,
Growing perhaps into love beyond
What mortal life can measure,
Something captured on the intake
And outflow of every blessed breath.

You did not have to
Be the who you have become,
But I am happy
You are precisely who you
Are, and claim yourself to be.

Thank you for visiting, please follow Haphazard Creative, or in your rambling find your way back here again. I hope you have a blissful weekend with plenty of time for creation, both the making of things and enjoying the gifts God so generously shared with us.

As a prompt, pick something dear and create about it. You may choose to share or keep it to yourself. You are the one in charge of how you interact with this reality.

I did something rare overnight. I watched an episode of one of my guilty pleasures. I had not done that since February. Maybe one day I will catch up the show.