- Author
- 04/27/2018
- 578 Words
- 1,483 Views
- 14 Comments
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
April Weather: NaPoWriMo2018 - 4. April 22 through April 28
April 22
Jacob saw the angels climbing,
weary of their earthly griming,
up to heav’n for terce and priming,
bright celestial bells a-chiming.
Down the rungs still more descended,
wings dry cleaned and garments mended,
rest and relaxation ended,
off to creatures whom they tended.
In his restless journeyed dreaming
he espied the seraphs streaming,
lit by cosmic radiance beaming
on the mass of mortals teeming.
Thus I wake in airport’s blaring,
Genesis my mind ensnaring,
here to gates of life repairing,
soon the clouds to fly I’m daring.
April 23
From the roof
of my grandmother’s barn
I gaze out on spruce woods and new hay;
golden sun and hot shingles baking skin and brain,
while in my high summer solitude
I contemplate fearful
horizons.
April 24
My muse is as a pinkly panting pup,
with grin and laughing eye and hanging tongue;
delighted on my hiking boots to sup,
enthusiastic, as befits the young.
It hurtles ‘cross the lawn in search of play;
each tree a point of interest worth three stars,
but never in contentment would it stay
within my painted fences’ iron bars.
Sweet inspiration’s not to be controlled;
it scampers off into the deepest wood
to leave imagination blank and cold,
not sitting by my footstool, as it should.
Yet never would I bring my pup to heel,
for only in its frolic do I feel.
April 25
I’m lost,
as one by one
the stars I once steered by
go dark and blank, or else obscured
by clouds;
cold rain
must surely follow in the night,
while I light more candles
to guide my feet
forward.
April 26
The words rain down so hard they cease to count;
soon minds will flood, their weedy banks o’erflow,
long used to inundation of this kind,
their thinking shows which way the current moves.
Soon minds will flood, their weedy banks o’erflow;
odd creatures seek a refuge in the brain,
their thinking shows which way the current moves;
the downpour is too great to stay unscathed.
Odd creatures seek a refuge in the brain,
nocturnal fantasies move to the heart;
the downpour is too great to stay unscathed,
they scamper through the wet to warmer ground.
Nocturnal fantasies move to the heart,
long used to inundation of this kind
they scamper through the wet to higher ground
as words rain down so hard they cease to count.
April 27
Sweet love’s benediction,
skin on bare skin,
blest friction;
Kisses given, not bought,
all senses heightened,
taut.
Hushed questions in half light,
heartbeats tuned and
tempered right;
Duet in canon played,
passion’s phrases
prayed.
Knees bent in entreaty,
ask, suppliant,
so needy;
For blessing open wide
let indwelling
glide.
April 28
Desire is blind,
and as a dreamer in the dark
whose fingers find
no substance in the void so stark.
I grope for light, but find no spark.
Yet touch that arc
of primal hunger all ablaze,
my strident mark
of secret yearning to upraise,
inviting your sublime assays.
The night amaze
and dawn my soul as rising sun,
for in your gaze,
all struggle with the shadows won,
my thirst you slake, I am undone.
Now there is none
with whom I’d rather lie entwined
till evening’s run
and sunset startles to remind
that to your body I’m inclined.
dearest reader,
and comment if you would,
for whatever you choose to say
does good.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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