wind howls a chilled air on a cloudless sky,
i see my breath
november beckons hibernation.
“Psychics can see the color of time, it’s blue.”
that is what I wrote on the wall
while I sat in the kitchen sink,
waiting for the rain to stop.
I was four years old and still fit in that sink on South Street,
nevermind how I knew what a psychic was,
or that I knew how to write…
let’s just say that I knew things.
as childhood unfolded,
I knew other things with such certainty,
others learned to avoid me
as though I was a pandemic plague
and out to get them, put them under my spell,
or eat their brains!
I knew I was Coming of Age,
when I learned I can make things move,
make events happen,
and when I learned that it would benefit me…
I was punished
by Going Mute.
as I was Becoming a Woman,
I knew pink organized in bubbles
only to float away in one’s dreams,
but dreams can be lucid
and be moulded to your heart’s desires.
I Became a Woman.
I knew I was Entering Wisdom,
when I learned music dances to my breath
while the sound of the abandoned wailed angst
in my bones and I could free them
by teaching them Love.
they cast yellow shades of cowardess,
in the shadows that forever followed them.
they should have learned to Listen…
for, I’ve learned to speak with my pen.
– – – – –
written for the muse is IN
Posted in Narrations, Writing Challenges
Tagged becoming a woman, benefit, blue, breath, bubbles, Coming Of Age, cowardess, desires, dreams, eat their brains, entering wisdom, events, float, four, free them, FREE-VERSE POEM, get them, I knew things, kitchen sink, listen, love, lucid, make things move, moulded, music dances, mute, NARRATIONS, pandemic plague, pink, psychics, punished, rain, sat, shadows forever follow, sound of the abandoned, south street, speak with my pen, teach them, time, under my spell, unfolding childhood, wailed angst, wall, WRITING CHALLENGE, yellow shades
inbetween splicing words and mincemeat images
of yesterday’s storefront mannequin
asphixiated in saran wrap prom dreams
we seem to have intense conversations
……….all the while
……….my leg rides your seated torso
a blink has passed us
dreamscapes are the landscapes we create
to bring the dream in to something familiar, or not
to give the picture, a frame in which to view it in proper
but it is so hard to stay focused on
……….the scenes change
by the time something is understood,
something else gets repressed
a blink has passed me
enhancing his palm brushes – long tender streams of uncontiousness
it was raining
the power had just dimmed the light to memory
the smell of earthworms and dirt
heaving the throat
as if afterbirth blankets regurgitate themselves
the daymare of a clear sky over a georgia o’keefe boulder range
greyed by salvadore’s suspended pocket-watch
like a pendulum
i pose this question: to whom should i praise
……………………………for the comfort found
……………………………in my mind’s thought of his lips?
you sit cornerbound, curled & comfortably casual,
like a chair
is it a voice that speaks to you
you lean down, in
to hear breath breathing?
…..while attentive, beneath your chin…..you repeat what you’re told
in your transcendental state
sink soothing into yourself
you draw out
……..as inquizative shrinks have a way of doing
……..inadvertant gestures placed just so
to sense those things that need to be purred
this makes me a little uncomfortable
why don’t you look at me?
_____________________________________________© dld 10.03.07
Posted in Narrations
Tagged afterbirth, blink, boulder range, breath, breathing, chair, change, conversations, dirt, discreetly, dldselfnarrarion I, dreamscapes, earthworms, familiar, focus, Georgia O'Keefe, inadvertant gestures, inbetween splicing words, inquizative, lucid, memory, mincemeat images, pendulum, purred, raining, regurgitate, repressed, Salvadore, saran wrap prom dreams, storefront mannequin, streams of uncontiousness, suspended pocket-watch, torso, transcendental state, transgression, uncomfortable, understood, unpretentious