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

serenity in waiting

I wait one more day
on this side
of the reply
formed within minutes
of the asking
I keep it to myself
relishing the question
less only than
the possibility of you
waiting for a reaction
all the while
thinking of me

flow

jotNrot

By the river’s edge we sat
hoping
something of worth
would float
within easy reach

Our words crossed the bridge above
in opposite directions
Our gaze never trespassed
the crease in the newspaper
spread beneath us
Not even as we measured
the time remaining
in the receding rings
of that cigarette
we shared

I conjured images
of wisdom and wonder
out of the smoke
To shield us
from the banality
of our intentions
But you were already resigned

You said
Fall was beautiful
Even though
It only led
To winter
I finished

Unbelieving, we watched
a chunk of ice
the size of our mutual deception
bobbing past
Leaving a convincing chill in its wake

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second thought

I’ve been the best of all options

A dim second thought

The least of all evils

And better than nought

I want to be

The summit hovering
above the peak
The core whose name
you dare not speak
A necessary evil
An undeniable need
A baited wish
Cast into the sea
Falling short
Flapping haplessly
And dying
on the shore

All that you were for me

truths I’ve known

I’ve known truths delivered
as a blow to the gut
as bells in the distance
or a deafening knoll
or a tightening noose
of blood-stopping cold

Sticky tangles of threads
a burning bright flash
a flood of dread
or a gust of ash

Truths that chained
my will to don’ts
And choked my wishes
With swarms of won’ts

They’ve all left me gasping
coughing up dirt
lost in a desert
with nowhere to turn

I’m waiting for a truth
known only in dreams
to envelop me
like arms
relieved
that I have finally
found my way
home

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