i don’t recall the dream
ending this way, with
me here alone and you
on the wind…the bitter
crush, my aching breasts
a childless mother, barely
a whisper from death, and
yet I should have known
you were meant to fly
~kat
Magnetic Poetry – Original Kit
afternoon sun
warm glowing orb
grey skies blushed blue
the honey-soaked earth glimmering…
entranced am I by the droning rhythm
of QWERTY keys on a deadline
~kat~
If I’m being honest, there are only a handful of times I’ve experienced true euphoria. Meeting my children for the first time ranks right up there.
Certainly it was euphoria erupting in the sterile confines of those clinically-monitored natural events. I recall the sting of ammonia residue burning my nostrils, released in short Lamaze “hee, hee, ho, ho, oh god!” purse-lipped bursts, the push, don’t push groaning pelvic floor implosions, and the excruciating waves of dull, sharp, 9-10-is there an 11? on a scale of how bad is it? pain.
I was drenched in euphoria by the tingling tickle of cool sweat beads popping from my pores under the glare of strobing fluorescent lights, my muscles shaking uncontrollably, the incessant click-clacking of wheels on linoleum, paper-booted feet shuffling, fetal heart monitor lub-dubbing and by the startling smack of cold metal on my bare back on its sticky slide to the edge, my fuzzy-socked feet lodged securely in stirrups cradling my heels, while a dozen excited eyes burned a hole through my gaping crotch.
But oh… that was only foreplay, euphorically speaking. The exquisite climax to this laboring rush came at long last in the hot, wet, rushing sensation of soft alien flesh sliding from my core into the waiting, latex-gloved hands of a masked stranger who uttered the words I had waited nine long, bloated, nauseating, glowing months to hear…maybe even longer, if I’m being honest. “You did it, Mama! Meet your beautiful daughter!” That, my friends was euphoria!
Euphoria is a sliver shy of madness don’t you think? It’s a scientific fact actually, in some cases, you can look it up. But if we are lucky, it consumes us at least once in a lifetime. I have been quadruply blessed, but I fear my heart could not survive a steady dose of it!
even euphoria
an exhilarating experience
has a dark side
it’s sometimes a symptom
of carbon monoxide poisoning, hard drugs or mania…
I’m perfectly content with really, really happy
~kat
A few thoughts and a Cherita on the topic of Euphoria for Mind Love Misery’s Menageries’ Sunday Writing Prompt: Describe a moment in your real or fictional life when you experienced euphoria. Be as vivid as possible, hit all the senses (and I don’t just mean the basic 5).
beware the quick nap
the nod, the doze
seeking REM on the fly
only to wake hours later
a sweaty blob in a puddle of drool
REM interrupted
~kat~
This is the moderated version of today’s mind cloud. I thought better of posting my initial Cherita after sleeping on it a brief bit. You are spared. Today’s entry could have been a vile drip from the recesses of my brain…
only the finest
expletives
rip from my sharpe tongue
giving a damn often leads to losing one’s shit
but it is the exquisitely satisfying fucking, fucked, flying fuck
that illustrates my delicate emotions magnificently
oops, did I just ‘write’ that…out loud?!!!
It’s been one of those days…
no filter
I look forward to this little exercise of looking back each week. Though I write each day with no thought of this grand summary at week’s end, I am always amazed by the result.
Some might say that looking back has no real value in the present; that it detracts from living in the moment. But I believe gleaning the brightest and best moments to cherish in the present moment bolsters positivity and affirms what we should already know, but too easily forget.
I can sense you wondering right now, “What do we forget?” See how easily that happens? You know what it is, but the weight of this given moment gnaws at you. “What might someone think if I blurted it out; that thing I know?” Self-talk will derail any good thing if you listen too closely to it.
I don’t know why I am so surprised by these weekly masterpieces; these patchworks of taken-out-of-context lines that I call ReVerses.
But I should expect them to be magnificent, because they are a reflection of my soul. Because life is a miracle…and I am alive…therefore I am a miracle. By the way…you are too…a living, breathing, walking, miracle that begets miracles just because.
Have you forgotten? Please don’t.
floating down, down, down
she’s wearing diamonds tonight
wintering in rouge chiffon
it is passion’s rage
flushing … face crimson red…
they claimed their prize…
velvety, dark, steamy…
the edge of lunacy teetering on a swiveling, ergonomic chair on wheels
felicitous flukes
the grated abyss has devoured it
be that as it may
buzzards prowl, circling
you can’t be serious
driving blind
unless it’s your life
skin tingled from the heat
so many stories left to tell
life, encapsulated
raindrops on pavement
~kat
A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.
like mercury colliding... 