Blogging new, and reblogging old thoughts, poems, stories and photographs, as I compile them into a future book. All content is copyrighted.
Monday, February 10, 2020
I'm all out of love
There used to be a writer's prompt website called "One Deep Breath" that I used for keyword prompts that inspired creativity. This photo is the result of one such prompt (The word to use was "container"). It is a loose version of a Japanese haiga (artwork accompanying a haiku, though I believe traditional haiga are supposed to be simple drawings or paintings). I had taken the photo earlier in the day, and had to find a way to shoehorn the prompt/poem into my picture. Lol. I did a couple dozen of these haiga back in the day, and would like to do more, so you can expect to see more show up here.
I've been through some dark days in the past month or so, with work and other general life stresses/setbacks, and my Dad's death a few weeks ago. The past couple days have seen the clouds parting a little, and I feel like I'm in the midst of an upswing.
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
The red, it filters through
This is from a blog post I wrote in 2006, I believe.
Inked
Darkly incandescent,
in your fits of rage,
burning your blackened words
upon the pristine page.
Beliefs alight on leafs of white,
but speak of ill intent;
when those who set your wayward ways
dismissed your clear dissent.
If pen were sword and God were love
the past would be impaled,
inkstains streaking blood red lines
where innocence was failed.
The pain would
drip
from poisoned words,
to deal deserved death,
and finding freedom in the purge,
you'd catch your baby's breath.
in your fits of rage,
burning your blackened words
upon the pristine page.
Beliefs alight on leafs of white,
but speak of ill intent;
when those who set your wayward ways
dismissed your clear dissent.
If pen were sword and God were love
the past would be impaled,
inkstains streaking blood red lines
where innocence was failed.
The pain would
drip
from poisoned words,
to deal deserved death,
and finding freedom in the purge,
you'd catch your baby's breath.
we all have our pasts to
deal with, some of them inflicted with such venom upon us that we don't know
how to overcome the infection in ourselves. this poem is my wish that her pain
could be written away. sadly, it cannot. they say time heals all wounds, but i
think it's safe to say that that is not true either. but love and understanding
can make a difference. it may not right the wrongs, or bring the sick back to
full health, but it can at least show that there is good in the world, and that
you - kate - are worthy of love, despite what others have hurt you into
believing. this poem was written with a wish, and with love.
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