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A STUNNER OF A BLESSING
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JOURNAL # 41 think of the poems we could write
magnificent manifestos plotted and primed
with the vices of plight
imagine the vision two sets of eyes could have
fauna and flora racing each other in a mad, mad dash
to peel away that very scab
grievance is the harsh voice of an older brother
far too misunderstood
value is a repainted red flyer wagon
pulled behind two primary children in the early 1970's
trolling the back school lot for empty pop bottles to trade
for a just few more candied goods
wistful is the hint of dusk
slowly slipping from the far off horizon's grip
misery is puberty itself beginning on one's long awaited for
6th grade field trip
my Saturdays are stronger for all the weekends I have
worked
maturity though deceptively boring at a glance to many
has become 'A Stunner Of A Blessing'
to my watchful inner eye
as compared to the alternative
idiotic impatience and arrested immaturity
all aprons of uncertainty many unknowingly wear
for the whole of their entire lives
I myself am a woman of letters
many shades of life paint my poetic sky
a human can open many a time have been accused I
I regularly seek the smallest knowable grain
I cast my line in the most energy rich pools
of the human identity
I am prayers prayed
wishes wished
and knowledge sought and gained
as it is in Heaven
it is here
these honest words are my spirit merely
addressing your spirit
as if we stood at God's feet and passed
through the grave
I am both one in the same
Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre
I beseech the better angels
in one and all
come look with me
find remnants of your own better self
and create a collage with me
to display to the world
we are all one in the same
flesh and blood
body and soul
we are LOVE................................
(July 28, 2013 843pm)
Oh my goodness gracious... I
Oh my goodness gracious... I don't even know where to begin. So many wonderfully original phrases of unique expression. Melissa, I enjoyed this, and will most likely enjoy it more in the coming weeks! Thank you for sharing yourself. ~peace~
.............
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
you are most welcome
it was a labor of love entirely even when it felt like it was beating me mentally bloody for a short duration. I still enjoyed the shedding of such layers smothering me. For me, some poetry is like sharing an awful event and I feel better afterward for having voiced the whole terribleness of it. Though this was not one of those poems exactly, still, it was a real bear trying to run away from me as I was attempting to sketch for the world its quiet, inner beauty. Your comments always make me smile and feel as if I'm as lofty as Shakespeare. Thanks for the poetic ego lift.