Ever been doing something or in my case nothing really and words just start to compile in your mind. A turn of phrase or just a thought that seems to be moving? This was my day yesterday and I have to say it has been a long while since it last happened. It was nice and while I don’t think my writers block is completely gone, it is definitely lifting from time to time. So while it is not good I feel the need to share my work in progress in the form of two seperate poems before I leave to go do real work for the day. Comments are, of course, always appreciated.
Still and Calm
The surface of the waters are still and calm
The waters are still and calm
but underneath the surface a storm is brewing
seething and frothing, churning and gnashing
a sea of greed and rage
a riverbed of love and hate
a tempest of raging passion, a path of destruction
silently burbling to the surface
coming slowly awake-
a silent scream, growing in volume
sending an echoing vibration louder and louder
clawing to the surface, growing in rage and anger
The surface of the waters remain calm
neither a burble or a gargle marring the surface
to hint at the chaos running rampant beneath
and surface remains still and calm
as it all combines and comes rising up
all stops and holds its breath-
a moment between a butterflies wing flap
Until the surface is no longer still and calm
and the water is no longer still and calm.
A Pacing Wind
A pacing wind I do play
roving the hills and hiding in glens
over a brook a brook I cannot name chasing a
memory I cannot remember
seeking something long lost
or perhaps never had
it was once there in a far off time
a glimmer I catch in passerbys
they too who have forgotten also
seeking an elusive torment
it flitters about on edges of dreams,
vanishing on waking, leaving only
a sorrow quickly forgotten.
but what of this who don’t
Those such as I?
are we to be left wondering for an eternity? seeking an elusive memory?
one which haunts and teases and will not leave you what little peace there is?
for surely the memory can bring you no peace
better to indulge in the pacing wind, roving the hills and hiding in glens.