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The Soliloquy of Sea Glass
Discards we are, emptied of value
Cast aside, forgotten, meaningless
Our varied hues bartered no regard
In being retained, kept or refilled.
Some shattered while some whole
Stripped of purpose, riding hither
And yon upon the global currents
Which we could not control
Our original intent was consumed
Then invalidated by our abrupt release,
That weighted existence forced
A downward path into the dark
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Sweet Nothings
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I can build air castles on the most gossamer of foundations
Turn a look into a lifetime,
Freeze frame a moment and stretch it into eternity
Where we never grow old, cranky or away from each other
I can draw from imagination stores most active
Off the cuff words in passing
Take that phrase spoken in haste
Create the rest of the conversational lifespan in my mind
Active, creative minds can be boon or bane
Giving life to things that don’t exist
Overwriting the reality of things as they are
Constantly writing a story that lives only in one head
I will swallow you whole, savoring every taste of you
But, is the flavor on my tongue your real taste?
Or… is it a confection I created from
Only the fleeting aroma of your presence
And when I stop, and step out of my imagination
Hot, harsh reality blares its eyes at me
Then rolls them, and sighs
Sweet nothings – that is all they were, in the end.
~SMK
Inspiration: A doppelganger affair in my head.
Inhabitation
Keep me near you, like a well-worn, revisited book
That favored one you caress the pages of before
Succumbing to slumber, the thoughts that frame your dreams.
Sleep, letting the essence of me float through your resting mind
Rummaging gently through your unguarded nooks and crannies
Causing your lips to curve in a soft, sleepy smile
Awaken, with thoughts of me scattering
Like startled sheep on a hillock
Giving you pause before throwing your legs over the bedside
Feel, as you face the mirror to shave, me
Grazing my fingertips against the stubble and pulse
Halting your breath a bit before you continue the ritual
Let me inhabit you, be the whistle on your lips
The niggling song you can’t put out of your mind
That accompanies you throughout the day with a smile
I can be with you, while without you
Like the river that ducks underground
Resurfacing miles later, present, but unseen
Sustaining, always flowing, moving through you via my inhabitation of your heart.
Water flow
~SMK
Inspiration: While working on my recent other post ‘Stone Cold?’, I thought about what want feels like for me. How it feels when someone inhabits my thoughts. How I want to be wanted by another, and so I dressed this other with the way it feels for me to want, how the wanted flows through my life when it is going on. It is gentle, but steadfast. It makes me smile at odd times during the day. But can one have that expectation of another, that they will want in like manner? Inhabitation is by invite, differing from possession.
I also realized that while I’m being pragmatic over there on my other blog, the romantic part of me has to get out somewhere, which is, ahem, apparently here. We all have more than one side, and dissonance comes when they wrestle for primacy.
Water is something that nurtures and supports life, and my mental imagery is that for what I consider loving – it is both sustaining, and sustainable. However, excessive consumption of water can make it run dry. Do you think that is true also, of loving?
(and…apologies for the birdsong that accompanies the reading. I thought of re-recording, but, I often write against the backdrop of nature, and what bird is not drawn to water?)
Stick to the Weight and Marrow
( Wordplay on Straight and Narrow)
Always stick to the weight and marrow they said
It will keep you out of trouble
They said
So I sought the weight
And I dug to the marrow
Oh, what a world of trouble
But what of the weight?
What of the marrow?
Is the weight the truth of it all, stripped bare,
Quivering like an oyster when its shell is jacked open
Something chilled, to swallow in haste and with a tasty condiment,
Or, like for some of us,
Never to be swallowed at all?
Is not the marrow a functionary for all things necessary for living,
Pumping out bloody things, building us up, or
Is it where feelings originate perhaps, since
One ‘feels it in their bones’
My marrow has exploded and bits of me are leaking everywhere.
Can you feel me?
But what of the weight?
And what of the marrow?
If I stick to the weight and marrow, perhaps I will
Finally get to the truth of the matter.
If so, will my bones let me know?
So I sought the weight
And I dug to the marrow.
Oh, what a world of trouble.
~SMK
Inspiration – Pulled from my ‘phrase garden’ to play with. This was fun to write, even though the message is deep.
The Glitterati II
I am a snow globe container of thoughts and feelings
Shaken, not stirred
It takes time to settle back down, the new normal after life’s reelings.
Glittering glimpses of life fast forward and then back
Swirling, bouncing gently
Floating lazily to the bottom, internal me displayed like wares on a rack.
Where are you, that one, that one wanting me?
Stirred, not shaken
Intertwined is how our feelings should be.
Someone strong, but not silent, oh no that would not do
Speaking, feeling words
Come closer over here and let me see into you.
Open your heart to possibilities and let down your guard
Warmth, suffuses you
Can you understand that loving really isn’t that hard?
But don’t shake me, turn me upside down, don’t ever be rough
Appreciation, gentle affection
Perhaps we both lack, but really, we all have enough.
Alone in my head I ponder these things
Exploring, softly smiling
The best I can do is simply see what each day brings
Catch a butterfly, a sunrise, a rose glowing in the sun
Observing, fully enjoying
Examining the beauty that the timely shutter click has spun
There go the pieces, can you put them together?
Brightly, softly flowing
Do you have what it takes for us all storms to weather?
I am a snow globe container of thoughts and feelings,
Heart, fully wakened
Arms opened wide, ready for each day’s dealings.
~SMK
Inspiration: A little snow globe in a store kicked off this thought pattern, bouncing around in my head while hunting down photo beauty.
Bloom from my Pinata Rose bush
The Impetuarian 