hidden beneath the ground
I found the gears
a miracle
I watch myself out there
bending, keying
my hands so busy
what sources I seek
outside the hallways
what drives my gestures
yet I watch
previous forces are unknown now
I set limits to the inherent drama-
while I watch
I can also listen to my singing
"carry my whims, carry my dreams
naked, raw and so honest"
Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Sunday, March 04, 2012
obscured
Image by Sarolta Ban |
as I look at the poster of my daughter
with overwhelming fullness in my heart
why has she gone underground?
my search has not ended
why is she unaware of my love
my concern?
when I look at her woolly mittens still on the kitchen table,
why did I admonish her for trivial issue?
now in this black and white world
I taste metal, sick metal.
I want everything returned to previous state.
I no longer care that she prefers to be herself
not what I want her to be.
"her coatless state in that picture is my answer"
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