Underwater

Everything muted
Cloaked and covered in flowing liquid
Floating in - suspended - weightless thickened space
Sound sealed from the air
And yet the clarity of each reverberation
Made within
Strikes the ears, piercing, louder than without
A wrench taps the tile
A hook scrapes the side
Shouts escape in bubbles
And the one in this womb
Watches the patterns of light

Oncoming Season

Thick flakes puff and billow
Rosy noses and frozen eyelashes
Bundled layers knit for warmth
Heating that brings to instant boil
The human that works to adapt
Yet loves the beauty of blanketing white
The fun in the games that we play

A Life

She was my candle
My glowing light
Her warmth drew me and eased my heart
Her skin a pale and luminescent tallow
Her spine graceful and straight as a taper
Her core, a wick that drew everything good
And held the flame
Light and lively
Entrancing

Now smoke grey curls around her face
Her skin has melted and sagged
These lines and hanging beads
Have made a pattern of life unique
And beautiful to behold

Her flame sparked, grew tall
It flickered and danced
Her smooth body eventually
Dripped and shrunk
Dead, her body cools
Released from her energy
Her heat
That she gave in life, continuously
Now part of the world forever

Anticipation

Feather light, in your chest
Quickening your pulse
and steeping your breath with weight
Excitement and nerves and heat

Anticipation can be enjoyed
The aroma of something simmering
The flavour improving with each drop of time

But another face can chill the heart
And at once harden the gut
While it writhes and eats itself

The stony dread of something coming
Terrible
And everywhere as time creeps
Backward moving slowly
Each moment in turmoil
Racing to the end

Walking up a staircase
While deep in thought
Anticipation of another step
That never comes
And suddenly your leg is so strong
As it slices through nothing to the floor
And your head is light and airy

Walking down a staircase
Thoughts and whatnot
The floor is unseen
One last step is anticipated
But the solid ground thuds into place
Blocking your foot before the leg was ready
Unprepared, brought up short

Anticipation met with a twist of reality
Surprise
Disappointment and confusion
Until you get past it
And walk on

Jumpin' Jack

I knew this horse, his name was Jack
        He nearly threw me off his back
But I stuck to him like a tack
        And now he's mine, there's no lookin' back.

Can't Stop Soon Enough

I keep having this dream
Where I'm driving and I try to tap the brakes
Nothing happens, nothing slows
I push harder and panic grows
My hips and back arc off the seat
As I press my shoulders hard against the headrest
Putting everything into stomping, sqeezing on that brake
But the car keeps going
Through signs and posts, I miss the turn
I haven't seen a cliff yet
But it's scary enough going through lanes filled with other cars
Just driving like it's a normal day

Murky Hardened Lumps

Sea glass wet and shining in the sun
Picked and packed in a plastic bag
Sand rinsed off then they are left to dry
And sit collecting dust

The colours dim
The frost seems dirty
And each shape seems slightly off

What to do with these pieces chosen
Over hours of time, sore legs, and a curved neck
Eventually they'll become something, or not

Broken pieces run so ragged they
Can no longer cut
Or contain something

Garbage that aspired to be something
Gentled by waves and salt
Soothed into pieces of peace

They might need another cleaning
And look nicer in the light

They were chosen and were enjoyed in the choosing at the very least
They will sit for a time
Until the time when they are given use again
To sit with meaning, somewhere.

Something to hold on to.

Hope is not a thing with feathers made of dust and light and air
Hope is more than warmish embers in the dark of your despair
Hope is not a gentle feeling when it's all that keeps you sane
It's the match that burns your fingers, waiting, desperate for the flame
To catch and glow and brighten, warm, and safely grow as fed,
But still the match burns shorter while the tinder's cool and dead

I'm hanging by a thread and you would make it feather down?
It's steel because I say it's so, the strongest stuff around.
It doesn't perch, or sing or coo, content with inner grace
I've got it in a stranglehold, my breath held in its place
While I turn white or mottled blue, I'll still cling tightly there
Dry ice that burns my hands while sublimating into air

Fear of failure, bleak Despair, may be the antonym for Hope
But Doubt is what can break it down, untie the thrice-wound rope
That lashes you to firm belief, the ballast in the storm
It eats away at courage and is treacherous in form.
Hope is life, Hope is strength, Hope's a flare over the sea
Hope is not a gentle feeling when I need it to be me.