There. . .
just beneath the surface,
swims a tiny shoal of fear.
I watch them
in the clear glass water.
They are moving as one,
darting this way and that.
Sunlight glinting on their agile bodies.
It is only when they break the mirror like surface,
causing a cascade of spreading ripples,
that I can feel them. . .
like an ice cold trickle of water
down my back bone.
© Susannah Bec 2011
This is the second post here today - please scroll down for - Not Lonely - Just alone. Thanks. x
Sunday, 17 July 2011
Not Lonely - Just Alone
Upon the plain walls of my life,
there hangs a portrait. It is a good likeness.
And behind it, set into the discoloured patch
on the wall. Is a blank space.
And set within that blank space, is a secret safe.
Where I, have locked myself away.
And no one, would even begin to suspect,
that the portrait may not be me.
And that I, may be hidden behind it.
Sitting quietly alone, inside the safe.
© Susannah Bec 2011
This was written for the thursday think tank prompt and originally posted on my blog Panopticulated. I liked it, so moved it over here to keep it with my other writing.
Please forgive me if you have already read it.
there hangs a portrait. It is a good likeness.
And behind it, set into the discoloured patch
on the wall. Is a blank space.
And set within that blank space, is a secret safe.
Where I, have locked myself away.
And no one, would even begin to suspect,
that the portrait may not be me.
And that I, may be hidden behind it.
Sitting quietly alone, inside the safe.
© Susannah Bec 2011
This was written for the thursday think tank prompt and originally posted on my blog Panopticulated. I liked it, so moved it over here to keep it with my other writing.
Please forgive me if you have already read it.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
when head battled heart
On a whim, I followed the twisted river.
Instinct galloping on up ahead,
astride the sparkling moment.
Effervescent and soft saddled,
my sleek and sturdy steed
ran like the wind.
Blustered and blown, I felt that sharp sting,
that biting buzz of conscience,
twinged.
Reason and his long loyal henchman,
had joined forces, collaborated
to stop my errant flight.
The strong arms of thought and logic
those powerful twin adversaries,
clung around my ankles.
But my wily and wise earthbound feet
had grown swift, with wings
upon their willing heels.
For that bright and glorious butterfly
that had formed, and fluttered
from my ever open heart...
was far too full of joy, for me to ever resist,
and I, its guardian and willing cohort
had no more doubt.
I gathered myself up, and swirling light
and scattering colour, I danced
out into the waiting world.
Where my life became a painting,
and my every footstep
became a poem.
© Susannah Bec 2011
This was originally posted over at my prompt writing blog - Panopticulated.
It was written in response to a wordle prompt and all 12 words are in there. :-)
Instinct galloping on up ahead,
astride the sparkling moment.
Effervescent and soft saddled,
my sleek and sturdy steed
ran like the wind.
Blustered and blown, I felt that sharp sting,
that biting buzz of conscience,
twinged.
Reason and his long loyal henchman,
had joined forces, collaborated
to stop my errant flight.
The strong arms of thought and logic
those powerful twin adversaries,
clung around my ankles.
But my wily and wise earthbound feet
had grown swift, with wings
upon their willing heels.
For that bright and glorious butterfly
that had formed, and fluttered
from my ever open heart...
was far too full of joy, for me to ever resist,
and I, its guardian and willing cohort
had no more doubt.
I gathered myself up, and swirling light
and scattering colour, I danced
out into the waiting world.
Where my life became a painting,
and my every footstep
became a poem.
© Susannah Bec 2011
This was originally posted over at my prompt writing blog - Panopticulated.
It was written in response to a wordle prompt and all 12 words are in there. :-)
Saturday, 9 July 2011
and the endless now keeps moving
(1)
The gentle yellow day
with its smoke smudged clouds
curls around the hours
like a sleeping cat
and still the time passes
ticking gently into forever
while I surf this great wave
that is my part of the ride
and the endless now keeps moving. . .
moment upon moment
thought upon thought
life upon life
(2)
I do not want to be a lake. . .
even a calm one, with endless depths
and mirror flat surface that reflects the sky.
I do not want to be contained within boundaries
slapping up against the confines of the earth.
I want to be a waterfall. . .
so the rushing, gushing, river of me
can run off the edge of a cliff
and fall endlessly, joyously
down through the sparkling air.
I want to be a fast flowing river
on its way back to the ocean.
© Susannah Bec 2011
The gentle yellow day
with its smoke smudged clouds
curls around the hours
like a sleeping cat
and still the time passes
ticking gently into forever
while I surf this great wave
that is my part of the ride
and the endless now keeps moving. . .
moment upon moment
thought upon thought
life upon life
(2)
I do not want to be a lake. . .
even a calm one, with endless depths
and mirror flat surface that reflects the sky.
I do not want to be contained within boundaries
slapping up against the confines of the earth.
I want to be a waterfall. . .
so the rushing, gushing, river of me
can run off the edge of a cliff
and fall endlessly, joyously
down through the sparkling air.
I want to be a fast flowing river
on its way back to the ocean.
© Susannah Bec 2011
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