#dancing words

The ringing trapped within my head

Is there a spell to begin the mourning

Can I sing to see the morning

Has there been any truth to me

Dizzy with thoughts dispelled

Rumors create tumors within my deep wells

Densely dissecting the motif of my true haven

Can heaven see me

What will I be

This complete monolith exasperatingly existing from moment to thought to action to moment again

I intertwined so I could win

Still the ringing brings me to the bliss of a missed cosmic unifying dominating twist

Webs thick within mists

Confusing senses no one ever uses

I am awake to sleep the sleep of dreamless dreams

What can I be to the unclean

Seen in dense dank sheets

An apparition of the closed imagination

I still have twists

My questions all miss

My answers a unison of rhythmic chaotic diss

My words hued bliss

Still you walk beneath trees of rotted fruit

Hoping for the whole truth

Why look for that which you deny

Do you love to create lie

Endeavoring to be sublime as you hide the dark morbidity inside

Darkness is the swell that draws you in

It seeps to keep the balance reaped

The light forces you in

Drawing on wisps of whispers

Still the bell rings swamping the enlightened psyche

And the truth sings amidst a cacophony of high pitched swells

Do you dread the next inhale

The rocking cry of seagulls on the roof

and silvered floor of morning’s early light

awaken me to find the sheets not proof

against the chill of morning. You were right.

I curl against your back, warmer than mine

and seek the warmth that permeates your skin.

With yours my chilly ankles do entwine

and gather blankets up under my chin.

A short expanse of time from now till when

we must arise and tend to our domain.

The red lights of the clock a warning, then

a quiet reprimand as we remain

The raucous calls of hungry birds above

2011

I am to you as a bonsai with too little wire 

Fine needles stinging gloves  

worn thin at the fingertips.  

Copper wire, fine and twisted ending low  

Oxidizing to liberty mint at the base  

And leaving the gardener wondering if I’m strong enough  

To stand without  

I am to you as a mismatched heirloom teaset  

Painted poppies on a chipped china pitcher  

Standing faded watch over tarnished silver

~~~

2020

Lists forever long await but I long to linger

My Love a tender weight

of baby’s breath against my breast

Her hair fine as afternoon light through the bedroom blinds

tucked in the perfect curl of my arms

Your visits bring more lists

and more hands to fulfill them

we polish silver as she naps

you catch my Hows and Whats and Whens

like the frantic growth of spring,

supported but  not contained

and we anchor the china cabinet to keep her safe

I fear my words will prune her

I hope my ears will bear the power of hers

building bridges of robust beauty

to bear her soul to satisfaction.

I am to you a mirror

And she is the miracle of fruit

Dancing Words Words dance as conversation flows with the laughter. (C)BJG(Blair Gaulton) Aug 2016

Medium

  Moment impart

within

life’s hidden mystery

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