Last night I dreamt of writing verse
A quickly penned completed work
And then woke up to absolutely nothing
But cold sweat soaking sheet and skin
So I reached out wildly to my left
For something solid I could grip
Only empty t-shirt filled my fist
Was it rising falling with your breath
Perhaps just enough of nothing sure
So I let go and simply slept
–A.R.
Empty Bed Series by Caroline Balderston Parry
February is
A melancholy month for me
This year I’ll make an effort
To simply let it be
Sitting won’t be easy
Nor will it cure this agitation
Like bare feet trapped
In woolen socks
I’ll wait it out this iteration
— A.R.
Going Within by Holly Olivia Pendergast
This empty ship should be cut loose to drift
My ancient anchor dropping down to depths
And I will be riding waves before it hits
Carried by a barely there breeze moving
Magic nothing billowing the lining of my chest
Because there is something starboard to be found
To fill me even if it is only the salty air scent of sunburn death
I will sail onward until then turning toward my shifting plot of land with
Or without an X that marks the spot where I must stop at journey’s end
–A.R.
Ghost Ship by Serge Sunne
There is a fleshy mask
Stapled sloppy to my face
It has become heavy
Pulling at the places that attach
Metal to skin to me
Finally giving notice
When I open my mouth to speak
I hear my own words echo back clearly
But you hear muffle, garble
Translating me into whatever
However you need to hear
I have seen you clear enough
Through this other set of holes
However ill-fitting, lack of periphery
And assumed that you saw me
But it is this fucking heavy face you see
It occurs to me that I did not
Fit this face atop my own, but you
Fastened it to make transactions
Comfortable and easily able to be labeled
My mistake was in leaving it be
The consolation that at least I could see
Outward is not enough anymore
I no longer wish to be blocked
By someone else’s formation
Fascination
I no longer wish to be the only one
Hearing clear my speech when I say
I will open wide my mouth and eyes
Enough at last to loosen the manmade
Grip between this mask and me
Loosed enough I’ll rip it off finally
I am less afraid of flesh tearing
Now
Or psyche
Aware
That the jagged edges left behind will scream
What you make of the monster
Underneath is your problem
Alone
I’ll be free
— A.R.
Painting by Susan Trueblood Stuart
I too evolve in fits and starts
When shifting sand below my feet
Swallows me and spits me out
Willing, I grind grit between my teeth
Annoyed and agitated yes
The stuff that sticks and stabs
Might be the harbinger of new
Movement that shoves me off my ass
Then sometimes I stay still and sit
Sinking peaceful to the depths
Wallow blissed in dark a bit
Until all that’s left is barely breath
I evolve in fits and starts
My meditation too
I’m glad of it, play in the sand
While this hourglass runs through
— A.R.
Hourglass Paradox by ForestFaerieQuean,
on deviantART.com<br
How do we change our culture
From one to next, each generation
It is as much with giant leaps
As incremental machinations
— a.r.
Zen by Richard Roberts
Our schedule’s not our own these days
In truth I know it never was
But the illusion of control felt nice
A make-believe warm blanket blinding us
— A.R.
Photograph by Rodney Smith
I miss the sea
Her brine in my sinuses
Clearing, cleaning, leading me
Towards her lace, chasing
The weightlessness that lingers
Deep in my brain and bones
After floating free in her belly
The taste of her tears on my tongue
Disguising the salt of my own
Crystals glinting, coating my flesh
For hours after I have left her side
The tiny sands she leaves behind, twining
My hair reminding me to let her stay
Thick, unwashed, and wild
The ache from who I was, unburdened
When I was with her
I miss the sea
— A.R.
Married to the Sea by Clare Elsaesser
Snowflakes and crows
My thoughts with the trees
Chase after each other
On the wintrey breeze
Black feathers crisp
Against hills covered white
Sun blotted out by the grey
Tops of trees swaying slight
Bare branches like arms
They are reaching for me
Embraced by chilly dark dancing
Of snow, crows, and trees
All at once wrapped in a silence
Bundled up by the drift
Minuet moves to stillness
Like those mountains, I sit
— A.R.
Photo taken by me in Keystone, Colorado
(Reposted in honor of the snow coming our way today.)
My daughter is sick
Soon I will be too
Cuddle and hug
Nothing else I can do
A back rub here
And a lullaby there
Books, broth, and banter
And her softest bear
— a.r.
Photoshop image found on mayhemandmuse.com
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