Driftwood

Poetry from ‘The Feathered Sleep

TheFeatheredSleep

Open your mouth wide

Do you see anything?

Do you hear anything?

I am running

In a grey forest

The feeling of your arms around me

Is a burn that does not heal when released

And your absence carves my stomach empty

Like Halloween pumpkin without face

An ache is possessing my every minute

Dripping into my veins like an unwelcome drug

I see you there

Standing in the bright

I could never have known how much hurt it would cause

To give you my heart

If we were to happen upon one another again

I would do all the same things

Even as I know its result

While you would not

You would save yourself from me, from us

Which is why

You were in the light then

And again now

As you climb out of loving me, shaking yourself off

I would like to have your strength

But…

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Fear of Sharks Can Get In the Way of A Great Swim

From Dream Big, Dream Often

Dream Big, Dream Often

Danny

Fear of Sharks Can Get In the Way of A Great Swim

I heard some people talking this past weekend about never swimming in the ocean because that’s where sharks live.  It was a funny conversation, but the lady talking was being sincere in expressing her fear.  She explained that if she never gets in the water she will never have to worry about getting eaten by a shark.  And I cannot argue with her logic.

But what about the coolness of the water on the skin?  What about experiencing the awesomeness of an afternoon swim?  Maybe a little belly surfing?  If her mind doesn’t change she will never be eaten by a shark, but she will also never experience the greatness of the water.

Listening to her talk got me to thinking about fear in general.  I wonder how many people think like this on other topics.  If I…

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Into the Fire

from Rose, the Poet Rummager

Poet Rummager

into-the-fireIllustration by Ted Giffin

I’m seeing you tonight.

It isn’t my heart I worry about

or its thump, thump, thump

and its skips.

Nor is it my mouth

which talks far too much

and longs to whisper things

you shouldn’t hear.

I’m worried about my horns.

Have I polished them enough?

Can they be seen through my hair?

Are they sharp and tough

to pierce through your armor?

I’ll invade your guarded soul

and revel in its capture.

In my bed,

I’ll keep you satiated

in your defeat,

my most prized prisoner,

eternally chained to me.

 ***My poem was inspired by a fun conversation I had with Seeing the Whisper.***

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Rune

from TheFeatheredSleep

TheFeatheredSleep

They ran through markets

elms strung with sari’s

bedecked with jewels and

girls kenning their heads

babes at their breast

growing crowns of red and indigo

she pressed into my palm

the spell of her rune

smelling of Finnish water stone

rubbed over and over beneath time

leaves still containing their flung pigment

where slippered feet ran and picked them

casting their glass throng to glory

she has the shiny hair of a child and

cheeks full for her pressed size

she who is gone and now returned

talking in other languages with Irish accent

she who manifests and disappears and is reborn

doesn’t look large enough to give birth

or sing at the top of a road the song of her

we were

separated by water and fear and longing

broken in sea, put back together by current

I was always swimming in her direction and the

light tread…

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