the icy tip of Reaper’s sickle lightly tapped her shoulder yesterday her breathless voices gently whispered, “winter is coming”, she heard Hel say
oh hush you pounding pitter-patter elephant dancing upon her chest it’s just a passing ‘bleeping’ blip but maybe it’s time for her to rest
let someone else with nose to grindstone deal with the dread deliverables the Piper’s fluting, shrill, pricks her ears background ‘music’ to this crucible
forced to face the inconvenient unpaid debt now due Mortality, “it’s much later than you think, my dear” youth is but a fleeting memory
Shadow follows close, a breath away she’s not ready to engage Her yet ‘she will survive’, the mantra of her life drives her in this battle to the death
~kat
NaPoWriMo 2022 - Early-Bird Prompt - I decided to do a rhyming poem that borrows some style quirks from Emily Dickinson and her poem “Because I Could Not Stop Fo Death”.
The artwork is a little something i whipped up in a drawing app on my phone…my canvas is digital these days! ❤️
i’ve been watching the great oak in my yard for several years now… she doesn’t play by the rules of autumn, clinging tightly to faded, parched leaves against the fiercest of tempests, through ice and heavy lobs of wet snow, though her branches may bend to almost breaking, she holds fast i don’t know what to think of such a tree, is it vanity, stubbornness, a lapse of memory? for as sure as summer drifts to autumn and autumn to winter, spring will come as the sun grows warm and days grow long, life will begin to surge through her veins causing buds to burst, at long last setting their departed siblings free to ride the wind, to taste the earthen loam, to rest, to rest in peace in a sea of greening
i’ve been known to be stubborn, to cling too tightly to things not meant for me, to useless longing for what once was, my memory forgetful of the struggles of those glorified once upon a times, and time again i have been known to stand full-faced against a tempest, convinced i held on and on for virtue’s sake, believing martyrdom raised me up, oh there it is, the vanity, how loathsome to be a tree that can’t let go when letting go is one’s very destiny… letting go to ride the wind, to fall to pieces, to trust the seasons, to know that whatever is left of me is all i need and here, now is where i’m meant to be
the night lingering into day…no consolation when death comes a-calling
~kat
Magnetic Poetry - Poet’s Kit
2022 has been the year of the reaper in our little menagerie. First to fall, our sweet 18-1/2 year old diva kitty, Casey, on January 14th and next to succumb, was our 8-1/2 year old hunk-o-love, big boy Maxwell on February 22nd. The gray sky and rain are cooperating oh too well with the drama of it all. I’m a bit of a mess, especially around mealtime. Two less bowls to fill…:( Hug your fur kids, your kid kids, your grandkids, big kids, little kids…or find a tree and hug that. You never know…you just never know…RIP my lovelies…
from a distance letting go takes one’s breath a symphony of amber, crimson, gold, emerald summer flare fading, cool winds of change wooing us to dance like dervishes to break free of all bounds, to ride the gale with abandon, to flutter softly to the earth, in afterglow of ecstasy, to drink the dew, to sleep letting go takes one’s breath from a distance
when one draws near there’s no denying truth clarity, reality, convey a somber view of brittle bones, age-dappled skin, fragile veins, the cusp of death, spring, summer, now autumn fading, letting go, the grim final hurrah that exposes our nakedness letting go is not so pretty, we cling, longing for a spring we’ll never see there’s no denying truth when one draws near
in the end when all is said and done when all that is left of us is dust when the earth reclaims our mortal shell, what stories will our brief life tell, memories perhaps of greening, vibrant, shading, dancing, dreaming, kissed by sun, caressed in moon glow, brief, a blip, we laughed, we loved, we lived life full…oh how we loved! when all is said and done in the end
she stands, deeply rooted amidst a grove of shallow-footed firs, bursting with fruit; her evergreen friends taunting her as she blushes red, surrendering her modesty to the cool winds of autumn
what dreams she’ll dream when winter comes, memories wakened in the deep, dark loam, buried there where only her roots can taste them, memories of seasons past, of seed-burst longing to breach the grave, to life, to feel the sun upon her face and the sweet seductive breeze, the thrill of greening
she stands, deeply rooted amidst a grove of shallow-footed firs, some felled by tempests, or the ax destined to waste away to dust covered in gaudy baubles and tinsel, their ever-greenness an illusion laid bare at the altar of lost souls, and rendered to ash at vanity’s bonfire
yes, she stands, deeply rooted in the bosom of she who keeps this blue orb spinning, sailing through a sea of sweet milk just far enough from the sun not to be consumed and close enough to the moon to see her reflection, light and shadow colliding, in ecstasy, heart and soul all-knowing
~kat
-Inspired by a new book I’m reading… “Seeds From the Wild Verge” by Brendan Ellis Williams
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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like mercury colliding... 