Tag Archive | poetry

When Words Take Wing

Jan29
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Artwork by Okalinichenko

Lines escape.
Letters become words,
become sentences,
become living poetry
breaking the veil
between reality
and belief.
Creatures created
from the twitch
of a synapse
within a stirring mind,
Flowing from pen to page
toward freedom,
words take wing.
Soaring thought,
ideas awakened,
loosed to roam
wither they will,
to set upon
unsuspecting souls,
stirring hearts,
provoking contemplation,
sharing wisdom,
creating dream.
Finding their way,
waiting to be found.
Lines escape,
letters become words,
become sentences,
become living poetry . . .

CRC

Palette of words . . .

Jan8

I’d no intention to write today, poetic was certainly not the mood I was in, but I clicked on WordPalette instead of Solitaire this afternoon to wile away the time between loads of laundry and lost myself in wordplay.

Seriously, if you haven’t tried this app, you should. Every time I play around with it, I’m left happily surprised with the results.

Sometimes I only use words from the palette, sometimes the choices simply serve to inspire and spark a little creative fire. I’ve always liked playing with fire . . .

Click here to read a little more about this fun app –> My Favorite, Fun New App

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Raging against ourselves,
abandoned from within.
Felled by foolish pride
and ignorance,
we search for meaning
amongst the ashes
of truths we long ago burned.
We buried the path
to a better future
beneath layers
of forgotten yesterdays,
of lessons we were meant to learn.
Miles made of years
stretch before us,
in the space between now
and someday,
there lay a vast
and barren desert
littered with remnants
of things we once valued.
Mammoth mountains
of prejudice and disdain
and things we should have
long since buried
impede those
who seek refuge beyond them.
Those willing to forge a new path
and embark upon a journey
toward a new future,
willing to face fears
and fight against what is,
will one day rise,
lifted by winds of change
until they soar high enough
to glimpse the dawn
of a new day.

I once tried to give them life

Jan4

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Upon these wrinkled pages
there are traces of me
left scribbled in ink.
My soul marks the margins
and the middles,
from left to right and sideways.
Pieces of paper painted
with half formed thoughts
I’d hoped would breathe
once they were penned
lay lifeless,
scattered corpses
of inspirations abandoned.
Wasted words, lost,
tossed in a box,
never discarded,
left to the worse fate
of being ignored
by the one who promised
to make them dance
for the world to see.
If I smoothed these pages
enough to set them free,
would they turn their backs
on me or be thankful,
grateful for my company?
I’m afraid to look upon them,
I don’t know what I’ll see
looking back at me.

~ CRC ~

Sweet Dreams

Nov29

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Tonight . . .

Wrap yourself in
moonbeams,
softly close your eyes,
listen to the stars,
they’re singing
whispered lullabies.
Let the night
embrace you,
let it hold you near,
and sleep, sleep –
sleep in peace,
the morn is drawing near.
Waltz through twinkling stardust,
dance amongst your dreams,
catch a shooting star
while you dream a little dream.

CRC

Calling to my words

Aug18

15534501982_a64b4863c0_mLack of inspiration
words form
with hesitation
just beneath
the surface
longing
to spill
upon a page

Fighting
out of hiding
surely they will
come

Another thought
another try
another moment
passing by

Set them free
or let them be
I hear their silent
plea, it echos
too from me

I’ve no choice
they are my voice
It’s not my will
that keeps them
silently within
hidden from
my pen

I long
to feel them
flow
coursing through
my veins
releasing all
my pain
as they soak
into the page
as blackened
drops of rain

Long have they
been quelled
locked away
without a key
just out of reach

Slowly they will come
slowly you will see
soon the words
will soar
and again
I will be
me

Crystal R. Cook

Strength in broken pieces – Tanka Verse

Aug18
Artist - Antonio Canova

Artist – Antonio Canova

Broken, still she stands.
Open wounds, never to heal.
Fragments of lost dreams,
pieces of past promises
keep her from falling apart.

Crystal R. Cook

Tanka Verse 5-7-5-7-7

Crumpled Pages & Lines Incomplete

Jul13

image

Crumpled pages
scattered at my feet
Sonnets of scribbles,
of lines incomplete

So many words
with so much to say,
wrenched out and written
and then thrown away

Tossed to the wayside
by no fault of their own
they were my words,
they were seeds I had sown

Like I was some God
giving life to the page,
like I was some monster
they fell to my rage

Mourning, I gathered them
each creased and crinkled one,
desperate to undo
the damage I had done

To make amends I saved them
to one day use again,
and sat back down to seek
forgiveness with my pen

Crystal R. Cook

Beckoning me

Jul12

stock-footage-full-moon-at-night-with-cloud-real-no-cg

Moonbeams

spill into

my darkened room,

rest a while

upon my brow,

tiptoe up the walls

and dance

with shadows

to the silent song

of my quickening heart.

I hear your whisper

in the deepest of night,

enticing me to

disencumber myself

from slumbers dominion

and steal away

to a secret place

of absolute solace and

faultless pleasure.

You beckon,

I heed your call.

Laid bare before me,

unblemished canvas

waiting, yearning, needing

to be painted

with my desire,

anxious to be claimed.

A blank page,

awaiting the touch

of my pen.

Crystal R. Cook

Gifts I would give to you.

Jul11
1911- H. J. Haverman

1911- H. J. Haverman

I long to capture
the echo of the wind,
and the first ray
of a morning sun.
A handful or two
of fluffy clouds
after a storm has come.
The melody of a song
and the silence
of whispering
angel wings,
the gentle sigh
of a day gone by
and so many
other things.
I want to scoop up
the watery diamonds
that dance
with the reflection
of the moon,
and wrap them all up
in paper and string
and give them all to you.
I love you mom . . .

Vertigo and me – NOT happy together.

Jul4

There’s no knowing where we’re going
there’s no earthly way to know
so we’re simply to and froing
slowly getting vertigo
  from Willy Wonka Jr.

ver·ti·go
ˈvərdəɡō/
noun
a sensation of whirling and loss of balance, associated particularly with looking down from a great height, or caused by disease affecting the inner ear or the vestibular nerve; dizziness, lightheadedness, loss of balance

Sailing through
the roughest seas
my vessel ever listing,
listing,
listing off to port.
Willy Wonka
(that’s Cap’n Wonka
to you)
navigates the
deep, deep depths
of briny, brilliant,
blurry blue –
Though I fear
he may be blind,
though I fear
he knows not
what to do,
he swears he’s
looking,
searching,
seeking,
shore,
and no more
briny, brilliant,
blurry, blurry
blue.
Oh, but the
longer I sail
(listing off to port)
with Wonka
at the helm
the more I fear,
sincerely fear,
my ship
is going down.

Three days ago I was pirated away on an impromptu journey (I didn’t even have a golden ticket) and set off to sail on a wibbly, wobbly journey (not through space and time), no great swooshing sounds, no Tardis (damn) my ambulance wasn’t even blue – and no 10. My doctor wasn’t even close to 10. –sigh-

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Since then, I’ve sat, (or tried to sit), in a vertiginousness stupor, trying to still my internal ebb and flow, this tempest is within. Vertigo. Vertigo is the vorticular swirling of . . . every-frickin-thing. Imagine the feeling you might have if you were drunk and just getting off a roller coaster and then standing up too quickly while looking over the edge of a cliff while on a boat during a storm. That. That is pretty much how I feel. Maybe. I don’t know, I’ve never done those things, I’m just assuming it might, maybe, possibly feel a little bit like blasted vertigo.

I’m like a Nascar darling when I try to walk, (or turn my head) I can hear the phantom crowd cheering, “She’s making another left turn!” Listing to port. For some reason, I tend to fall to my left when I attempt to stand. I feel like the terra firma beneath my feet has crumbled away and the overwhelming sensation of my inevitable collapse is more than slightly disconcerting. Inertia is my friend.

My docs (The Doctor would have known what to do), can’t really say what started this. Something about something about the inner ear. They can’t say how long it might last. They can’t say if this is a one time deal. Pfft.

So, vertigo sucks. Spinning, swirling, nausea, dizziness, lightheadedness, confusion . . . not fun. I don’t even like carousels or ferris wheels or roller coasters or even those little cars that kiddies ride in circles, and at the moment, I feel like I can’t get off the ride.

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There’s no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going
There’s no knowing where we’re rowing
Or which way the river’s flowing  – Willy Wonka