forgive me

forgive me
sometimes despite
all the history
the statistics
the infinitesimally
small probability
the stark reality
and all my efforts to supress it
hope flashes irrationally
painfully mockingly
long enough
to make a fool of me
again

daily post prompt : deny

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equinox

this cusp belies
of winter’s end
though I know
it won’t bring spring
I should learn to enjoy
the warm itch of wool
than wane yearning
for the touch of your skin

swept clean

leaves on pavement
shrivelled and drying
stark only in contrast
to the grey where they lie
while traffic and footsteps
run over and by

tomorrow the rain
will wash the stains
and any distracting
colours remaining
and stares will be dull
and blank again
as my thoughts
without wishes of you

another summer night

I would drink tonight
but I don’t want to ignite feelings
that can’t find air to flare
trees shelter the stars
from wishes I would fire
at them accusingly

there was another night like this
where the music filtered through trees lined like a cage around me
and I overcame apathy and swam through the summer heat
to find something to move me

I got there in time
to hear songs and be reminded
that I once used to love
enough to dance
the musicians encore
joined my lament
with halfhearted strums
and we all sang
of the time that was
cursing it all for having fooled us
into thinking it could ever
be enough

though I know better
the body still responds
to the music pulsing expectation
driving will from gut to limbs
how can Monday compete
when even nostalgia needs
a shot off stage to shine

waiting

I want nothing more
than the possible
opportunity
for chance
and coincidence
to converge
into the unexpected
All that
you took
when you went away

grounded

I’m a cat on a leash
wishing to leap
into the sky
but will dangle
if I dare take flight
So I try with all my might
to set my sights slightly below
revel in the magic
of my steps as they flow
Still the mist rises again
to gather and protest
like a neglected guest
determined to make
the simplest path a sodden mess
to shout magic’s just a trick
And I’m better off sticking
my feet way down
into the blindly trodden ground
until mud gathers round
and my steps grow too heavy
to complain of the tug
of loving chains
and the constant gently
falling rain

ruminate

Now get ready for the silence
In which thoughts start to brew
Get ready for the waiting
That lets raw feelings stew

As chances stumped by hurdles
Of heated innocence
And moments pure, curdle
Into knots of discontent

As sourly the high fizzles out
Dissolving cherished flavours
As what was sure turns to doubt
And determination wavers

As answers turn to questions
One dared not ask before
And all avowed intentions
Serve only to keep score

As words that overflowed go dry
And all the rhymes fumble
And hope sits startled way up high
As its perch begins to crumble

Get ready again to wonder
Who has the upper hand
And who will get sucked under
Foregoing all demands

And when the last illusion
Has finally been dispelled
The truth sits dumbly silent
For there is none to tell

Prompt: ruminate

meantime

Five little words
could hardly impress
with any duress
but I must confess
like a chess master
preparing for disaster
I’m already five exchanges ahead
and all the digressions
you’ll make instead
of coming clean

And though my head is full
it’s my body that aches
to make up for mistakes
and time lost
in planning petty crimes
and their atonement
the moment we are done

So take your time
and borrow mine
I’ll burrow down
and tow some lines
that I’ll retrace and erase
in case my resolve dissolves
and I fill in the spaces wrong
all over again

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/clean/

and still is…

What to make of an open end
Leave it to gather
mould and dust in the dark
or allow it to dissipate
and expand in an arc
of pale should haves
and half measures
dished in anorexic portions
morselled to feed distortions
grown to daunting proportions
taunting better judgement
with their glow

What to do with loose threads
hanging from words
Tie their tongues
with punctuation
or tease out insinuations
to unravel the past
and weave a pattern
to contrast and outlast
this sky overcast
with dead winter grey

We could wait until spring
and see what it brings
But we fear what is
will still be
entangled in our dreams
always dangling
just out of reach

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