Here I am
with no direction,
ideas
or a clue…
standing still in this moment
releasing control.
Tag Archives: self realization
Hidden Wounds
Rod of Asclepius
Forever
seeking the surface,
hidden wounds
seep slowly,
longing to reveal secrets
tucked beneath the skin.
My contribution to Open Link Night at dVerse Poet’s Pub !
Like this:
Empty Room
Who am I
within the silence?
Forgotten
and afraid,
slipping into spaces that
no longer exist.
Like this:
Say Goodbye
Even now,
as I write these words,
I’m not here
anymore.
It’s time for you to let go
and just say goodbye.
Like this:
What Lies Beneath
- The Meditator , 1971, oil on canvas, 149x147 cm, Rome, Fondazione Giorgio e Isa de Chirico © Fondazione Giorgio and Isa de Chirico, Rome / Giuseppe Schiavinotto
There’s nothing more and nothing less
a fist unfurled, an open hand.
I will be found beneath this mess.
Behind the crumbling walls confess
to all the lies spoken firsthand.
There’s nothing more and nothing less
to find upon this path, unless,
each single step remains unplanned.
I will be found beneath this mess
as thoughts begin to mock progress
releasing moments gripped like sand.
There’s nothing more and nothing less.
Old words upon these lips repress
the staleness of the new wasteland.
I will be found beneath this mess
as time peels back the next process.
Come forward now and take a stand.
There’s nothing more and nothing less
than what you see beneath this mess.
Actually wrote this poem early this morning after a night of insomnia that resulted in a very cluttered and chaotic mind. I thought about meditation and how amazing the practice of meditation is at settling the mind. Then I saw the piece..the title and image are perfect! This is also my first attempt at a villanelle and I consider this piece still in rough draft as I am learning.
Oh…today marks the one year anniversary of my blog…I’m celebrating down at the pub!
Check out dVerse~Poets Pub with Mark Kerstetter hosting this weeks Poetics prompt about the works and life of painter Giorgio de Chirico.
Like this:
Unfinished
Wet journals. Fake pens.
Click. Snap.
we heard that
as the old recordings play.
* This is a bit of an experimental poem for me. The inspiration comes from the experience of recently finding several journals full of unfinished poems…each one haunting me with its unfinished emotional charge. These words tumbled onto the page in response. The experiment, for me, is to honor the words just the way they are.
It’s Open Link Night over at dVerse~Poets Pub …Join the party…I did!
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Lovely Visitors
