Seeds of Thought

Black loam is the best soil
Seeds need a dark, rich place
To germinate in quiet isolation
Protected from even the most well-intentioned interference

Ideas are the same
We speak of bringing them to light
But from where
The dark recesses of our minds
The rich blackness of subconscious
Inklings, thoughts before thoughts

The biggest eurekas, the brightest epiphanies
Need that silent darkness for understanding to dawn

 

 

(OctPoWriMo 2019, Day 12; Prompt: Black; Suggested form: Shadow Sonnet. But I went with free verse, instead.)

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Your Gentle Voice

I hear your voice
Voice inside my mind
Mind you, I know you’re not
Not here, not yet, and I’m resigned

Because I know your voice
Voice I hear inside
Inside my mind, inside my self
Self I tried to hide

You’ve found me, now, though
Though it took us awhile to make the choice
Choice for every day of my life
Life with you and your gentle voice

 

(OctPoWriMo 2019, Day 11; Prompt: Silence; Suggested type: Loop)

Seeing vs. Seeing

My vision is weak
Has been since I was a child
Everything fuzzy, blurry, wavy
Or like that white softball coming at me out of the white clouds
Just flat invisible, until suddenly it wasn’t
Like the curveballs life threw at me a few times
Until I finally figured out I could see things a lot more clearly
If I just stopped for a minute and closed my eyes

(OctPoWriMo 2019, Day 9; Prompt: seeing; Suggested style: free choice)

Smoky Memories

Daddy smelled of Old Spice and cigarette smoke

And sometimes grease and solvent

If he’d been working on the car

Mama smelled kinda like Old Spice, too

Does anyone else remember Tussy cream deodorant?

I guess it was the smell of cloves they had in common

And there was always Listerine on the bathroom counter

A giant glass bottle, back before plastic took over

I’m sure we all smelled of cigarette smoke

We just didn’t realize it because everything else did, too

Our hair, our clothes, the furniture, the car

Probably even the dog, except he rarely got a bath, so he also just smelt of dog

So Old Spice, WD-40, Tussy, Listerine,  and dog

And cigarettes

Are the only smells from childhood I can fully recall

 

(Day 8 of OctPoWriMo; main prompt: scent; suggested form: free verse or sonnet)

Love in Parseltongue

Sips of sweet sangria speed the shift in senses
Sibilant sighs spill across satin sheets and silken skin
She shivers at the sound, slips loose of last pretenses
Sensing, then sure that she’ll see stars again

(OctPoWriMo 2019, Day #7, prompt: tongue, tasting, speaking, Suggested style: tongue-twister. Tongue-twisters are really hard! This is as close as I could get.)

Self-titled

Blue jar recover cream 2019-10-06 20.59.23

A pretty blue jar sits on my vanity
“Recovery Cream” it calls itself
I’m a little put off by its hubris
I wonder what it thinks I should be trying to recover
I like where I’ve been, but I also like where I am
And I like the cream in the blue jar
I guess it can call itself whatever it wants

(OctPoWriMo 2019, Day 6 prompt: blue)