It was a shallow hollow
in which she kept
her misery.
No depth at all.
In fact
the slightest motion
would set it moving.
Like a mini tidal wave.
Back and forth,
gaining momentum.
Until it would slosh
over the edges
and run
d
o
w
n
her pensive face
following
the limescale trails
of its watercourse.
And then
splish, splash
d
o
w
n
onto the ground.
Spoiling
the shiny shoes
and cheerful gait
of those who were passing.
She tried to keep it inside,
she really did.
But she found
the constant stillness
so very very hard to bear.
Written for Three Word Wednesday
Saturday, 10 December 2011
Thursday, 1 December 2011
Staying Centered
I am the fulcrum around which my life rotates,
I hear the rush and shudder as the cogs turn.
Ruddy and metallic, this movement is vital.
Freed limbs rotate, idle thoughts rustle.
It is not easy to be mellow and mindful,
in this untidy world of man and machine.
I may sound smug, but I am no longer gullible.
I will continue to ignore the subliminal messages,
pasted onto the detritus and divinity of my life.
And let the spinning wheels slice the sunshine,
into bite size pieces that I can eat.
Written for Wordle 32 at The Sunday Whirl -
I hear the rush and shudder as the cogs turn.
Ruddy and metallic, this movement is vital.
Freed limbs rotate, idle thoughts rustle.
It is not easy to be mellow and mindful,
in this untidy world of man and machine.
I may sound smug, but I am no longer gullible.
I will continue to ignore the subliminal messages,
pasted onto the detritus and divinity of my life.
And let the spinning wheels slice the sunshine,
into bite size pieces that I can eat.
Written for Wordle 32 at The Sunday Whirl -
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