Words create images, express emotions, tell stories, elevate the mundane. They are gems just waiting to be strung together and transformed into a new way of viewing life. At their best, words soothe savage beasts, carry us to far-away lands and breathe hope into our beings.
WINGED FLIGHT a ladybug lands on the book. her wings are transparent, flapping effortlessly in the stillness of a perfect summer morning. a hummingbird hovers over a flower. his colors paint the world another shade of beautiful, a masterpiece of creation.
panic and hopelessness completely take over,
desperate petitions are uttered in that ungodly place.
the still, small voice has been awakened from the ashes,
grown from the dormant seeds trampled on.
at the brink of hysteria, you remember to breathe
knowing, somewhere deep down, that you do have value.
the pure, sacred symphony of serenity
plays quietly in the resurrection of burgeoning hope.
I can hear the train whistle,
slow and almost mournful,
down in the valley.
darkness sweeps over the countryside.
the birds are suddenly, eerily silent.
there is no wind
but they, the winged army,
know a deluge is coming.
I hear the rain before I see it.
it comes over the mountain like a song,
speeding up to the crescendo.
the sky turns somber
as the torrential downpour begins
dancing on parched earth.
for each and every action,
there’s a response.
nightfall settles like a blanket
cloaking the space in somber,
yet mellow, tones of gray and blue.
i am inexplicably drawn to the window
hoping, i suppose, for one last glimpse of the sun,
afraid of being alone with myself
in the dark,
in the absence of the light
WORDS i look at the words that lie on the pavement. how did they get here; why were they forsaken? are they rich with history or covered in guilt? are they missing pieces of someone’s old quilt? are they unaware that they don’t have a home? are they simply tired of living alone? some words dance and laugh, others just glare; maybe they’re searching for someone to care. who left these words here, what do they mean? are they broken hearts or someone’s lost dream? some words bedazzle, some words dismay, others are ones that could be thrown away. are they ancient memories that once honored love? are they simply feelings that can’t be spoke of? are they really weary from being outside? are they misunderstood but just don’t know why? i pick up the words that lie on the pavement they’re there, free for all, but no one else takes them
“Winged Flight”, “Serenity”, “The Storm”, “Mellow” and “Words”, From Poems & Random Thoughts About Life by Kay Malloy McLane
©2020 kay mclane, peace full home.com®/intentional living, 2013-2020.
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