childhood dreams nonsensical thoughts heaven bound mirages sail on a wish and a prayer through uncharted hearts ©20222 July Day shadorma
Written for: Moonwashed Weekly Prompt–Nonsensical–11-29-2022
a cauldron of anger bubbles inside day after day, she swallows it down in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify she is more than just dissatisfied it shows in her bitter, black frown a cauldron of anger bubbles inside once upon a time, she was a happy bride now, there’s no love nor respect to be found in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify gentle emotions wash out with the tide on foamy waves of dirty, blighted brown a cauldron of anger bubbles inside she has nothing left save for stubborn pride life has been such a colossal letdown in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify ‘tween what is and what should be lies a great divide so what the hell, let’s send in the clowns— a cauldron of anger bubbles inside in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify ©2022 July Day villanelle
(Family issues will be an ongoing thing–for how long, I don’t know–so my posting and reading blogs here on WordPress will be sporadic. I hope for better times ahead.)
crow comes at night
one with the darkness
slips in the window
while she sleeps
burrows its sharp beak
into her seasoned flesh
and tears at
the most tender morsels...
savors the sour flavors
of being hurt
of being fooled
of being played
she learns not to sleep
stays ever vigilant
in the morning light
sometimes she wonders
if crow is real
is a force without
a black cancer
of bone and blood…
cawing chaos, while
beating sharp wings
within each breath
through fragile capillaries
frantic to escape
©️2019 July Day
Galaxies beguile and beckon, Mouths of black holes yawn. I face the unknown, bent of body, but bright of mind, Not fearing the coming dawn Of old age that comes To all stars, planets, and man. I face the unknown, time sifting through my fingers Like grains of silvered sand. ©2017 July Day
Gilded clouds glide, passing me by. Dream-ships sailing darkening sky, Steering toward a distant place Not found by maps, but by grace. Do they hear my sorrowful sigh? I watch their fleet, tears in my eyes— Oh, how I wish that I could fly, My lonely eagle soul, embrace. Gilded clouds glide. In their wispy hearts, I descry, I’m not worthy of a Shanghai, Not worthy to share their blest space. Passing from sight, leaving no trace, They whisper on the wind…goodbye. Gilded clouds glide. ©️2022 July Day rondeau
Written for Moonwashed Weekly Challange–Gilded: https://amanpan.blog/2022/09/06/moonwashed-challenge-gilded-september-6-2022/
The city sleeps— Above, stars are born. Die. Love and stars, die alone… unmourned. ©️2022 July Day
Image my own watercolor painting.
My poem was inspired by David’s Septolet at The Skeptics Kaddish.
There was a man named Alan
who walked away into the blue.
No goodbye, no see you later,
just gone, leaving no clue.
His friend didn’t know how to find him,
and worried if he was all right.
She didn’t expect him to stay forever,
but a small note would have been nice…
Simply saying: I am fine,
I just moved on…for it was time.
©️2022 July Day
Rivers In her life, she has crossed many rivers. Some she swam with sure, steady strokes; Some she walked over on burning bridges; Some were so shallow, she easily waded. But fording the last one, she almost drowned, Failed to reach the other side. The swift, black waters dragged her down, Filled her lungs with life’s heartaches, Then cast her battered body back to shore; Left her choking, gasping, gagging, Down but not defeated. Never defeated. Older and wiser, she bided her time, Waited at the river for the dire wolves to come drink, And built a raft from their strong bones, Made a cape from their warm, gray fur, Then floated across upon the cold choppy surface And stepped off safe and warm on the other side. She fashioned a home from the raft bones, Made a bed from the sleek fur cape, And she abided there in the high desert Content and happy as she grew old Until the time came for her to leave. For there was one more river yet to cross. ©2019 July Day free verse
Southern night lies hot, humid, still— silent but for a whippoorwill that sings from the branch of an oak, taking me back to my childhood, growing up surrounded by woods. Farther afield, I hear a croak; see mind moonbeams bounce off a stream. And I dream, oh, I dream…I dream! Living in memories evoked. ©2022 July Day Nove Otto
Does she ever see me…like I see her? a cool splash of creek water muggy summer days Does she ever hear my voice…like I hear hers? rain on a tin can laughter under quilts Does she ever think of me…like I think of her? high in the treetops dusty, dirty feet Does she ever miss me…like I miss her? confidences broken more confidences kept Does she ever remember me…like I remember her? blood that binds forever friends Does she ever lie in bed at night, thinking of times past? Does she ever whisper my name, and see my young, smiling face? Does she ever yearn to take my hand and return to that kinder, gentler place? ©2022 July Day free verse
Featured image my own rough pencil sketch