This is a writersliftwednesday blog, sharing the works of fellow writers, poets and persons random. All re-blogs will be linked appropriately to their authors.
Writing is no easy calling and nothing easy was ever worth doing.
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Christina Schmidt, MA
I’m still drowning in your Aura.
The ship has sunk into “Utopia”.
– Your Eyes are enticing sirens;
(Plus) your price welcomes me.
Uninterrupted. – I’m catapulted
…by many seas, and one reason.
I’m out of season. Flowery eyed;
I’m sedated under the solidified.
So exhausted; I’ve fallen asleep.
I like [when you see] and I don’t.
So excited. I’m filled with [a sip].
But I will not swim back. I won’t.
So quiet in there;
Wondering where all the loud thoughts disappeared to;
Can’t seem to find a single stray thought to hold on to;
As if they are hiding away from me;
Afraid of what I’d do to them;
The silence is deafening;
Even with music in my ears;
It feels like it’s playing into a vacuum;
Hitting the walls of the brain;
And bouncing right back to me;
read the full piece here
Green grass is pooling
over water, which stirs when
heads rise on long necks.
Many thin-edged wings
filter the morning light, both
Crack in red ceiling:
outside the cave, warm wind sweeps —
a dragon flies past.