Reliance

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Golden fluid holder
monkey mind, mine
I cling to
the elixir of life
found far away
it speaks
the language
of fear
and hope
and uncertainty
the reminder
of what has been
and what will always now be
nestles in the hollow
above my heart
a cold and comforting reminder
of the ritual
that has become
life.

 

Author April Wells
published January 10, 2016
poetry form: Ekphrasis…

Habit

Clandestine Writing21 days they say
starting a new habit
this is the way
Watch the calendar
day by every single day
Tick… tick… tick…
keep the cobwebs at bay
OctPoWriMo in hours ends
NoPoWriMo plans I lay
The habit it growing
THIS I am knowing
30 more days?
I just may…

The Moment

Moment
I cry
for
that which is in the moment
is but for a moment
and the moment
is gone

I cry
because
the tears I shed
were never shed
when they should have been
and not because
in the shedding
comes the understanding

I cry
in
the passing
of the seasons
from one’s season
to the next
and I fear
that in the passing
the passing too will be gone

I cry
with
all of those
who have cried before me
for all of the reasons
Here now I cry
and wrap around me
all of the tears
that all of humanity
has ever left unshed.

November

hear the shivers
in the birches
the hiss of the fallen
watch the dance of the nearly naked
in the hustle rustle
of the morning music
Even the modesty of the oaks
has given up her tattered brown dress
to the siren call of the wind song
the return
of long lost friends
as they remember the feeders and the corn.
The frost on their feet but a trifle
they huddle together and eat
squeeze the last
of the mild
from the mornings
and in the chill of an early fall
wrap warmly around the coming season
the quiet morning
avian company
and tea

Sing

Do you sing?
I hear the quiet click
of feet
as you land
almost silent by my side
do you sing
when your heart
is full of sorrow
full of joy
full of song
do you sing
Do you lift your voice
to the heaves
despite
tone deaf raucous elation
and allow your voice
to reach to the heaves
to soar to the stars
to part the gray skies
and take flight
do you sing
for despite whether or not
you sound like a nightingale
or you sound like a crow
the answer to
do you sing
should always be
of course
for every bird has their song
and every song
needs to be sung.

Dear Hunting

Dear Huting

I watched her last night
Dear hunting deer
quietly stalking
illusive prey
and in the watching
reality struck
her lens
her passion
she looses herself
in the adventure
with pride
I watch
the evolution
as she finds
her voice
her wings
her freedom
through the shutter
and lens
I know the feeling
of losing herself
to the freedom
she in pictures
I in words
the universe
falls away