that's mrs. mediocrity to you

you know what you were meant to do
you know it in your
heart and you refuse
to listen
just exactly the same way
you never listen to the wind
in the trees at night
whispering moon love to the owl
the way you tilt your head and pause
when thunder rumbles
but never when the sky is blue
the way you walk past that same
dirty penny six days in a row
and never stoop to pick it up
you know what you were meant to do

sit down upon a rock and stay

until your back breaks

your palms bleed

your heart cracks open

every answer you need
will run down

down

through the fingers of hope
cupped to hold them

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

this lake this forest these trees

i see nothing i see everything i can’t hear a thing for all this

noise

this deafening

silence

these colors all drawn in black and white and red all over

and i bleed

i cry

i close eyes i’ve never opened

i build castles in sand made from glass

throw stones into the fire

this blistering brilliant fire

shadows dance in the embers

crickle cracked red hot

embers

remember

the ghost shape of branches

the geometry of lumber

shelter

the diaphanous

pretender

this lake this forest these trees

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Linking up today with dVerse poets for Meeting the Bar and some postmodernism, join us!

::

birds become leaves

blown fast from trees

in a hurricane of light

::

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My small stone for Mindful Writing Day. Join in here.