The muse is being philosophical today…😉
light is not quiet
we’d know this
if we were listening
they will whisper
do it anyway
live like no one
is watching
i love knowing
that somewhere
in the world flowers
are blooming and
day is night…when
we look up we see
the same sky
go for brilliance
or not at all
there is no almost
to breathing
~kat
softly she comes
murmuring on cold
breezes, covering
the earth gently
with thick blankets
of frost…winter calls
every soul to deep peace
~kat
like a leaf
tossed by a cool breeze
i let go
~kat
For Haiku Horizons challenge, prompt word, ‘Breeze’.
we fiddle away the
dreams of our youth
with no thought of
time…frantically trying
to make up
what we have lost
we forget we are
born of magic and
light the longer
we linger here
in the dark
she was an old soul;
a soft voiced listener
she could light up
a moment n time
making me believe
in happy ever always
my intuition, when I
follow it has led me
on some wild paths
but how lost I’d
be without her
~kat
‘I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!’
-W.B. Yeats
Land-Locked, City Dweller’s Lament
I mourn at dawn with ashen doves
rustling in nests of refuse
faggot butts and paper scrapping
littered amidst the fading leaves
roses singed by acid dewdrops
choke from mist infused with poison
vines erupting from concrete tombs
now cling to rain-swelled guttered eaves
may we rise from heavy slumber
remedy our careless keeping
see past gray horizons blighted
sprawling towers of brick and steel
beautiful dawn would I know you
wild, pristine, unobstructed
left untouched, nurtured, protected
would then, the mourning doves still grieve
~kat
What started as a lovely morning stroll, serenaded by doves coo-cooing took an unfortunate turn. I hadn’t set out to write this poem, but the muse insisted. For Jane Dougherty’s ‘A Month With Yeats’ – Day Twenty-Six with the verse above from Yeats’ poem, ‘The White Birds’.
like mercury colliding... 