Category Archives: Life (or something like it)

Illusion/Hallucination 

Illusions
Artificial, ephemeral
Deceiving, misleading, twisting
Faint, deceptive, trap, escape
Experiencing, visualizing, believing
Evanescent, surreal
Hallucinations

Rain?drops

Raindrops.
Falling water.
Raindrops still if from eyes?
Being told this is not allowed,
Raindrops.

A Necessity of Tears

Holding onto grief like wilting flowers,
Their beauty is not a gift just for you,
But me; for a passing of the hours.
We all hold our own wilting flowers, true,
So there is no reason to give you mine.
I’ll hold onto these as you do to yours,
One more won’t wilt; I won’t repay in kind.
I’ll keep mine to me, I won’t create more.
All flowers simply wilt before they dry.
This. When the waters they may need are tears,
It is what’s necessary when we cry.
One lets go of this, one lets go of fear.
This. How we heal, how we make flowers bloom.
How we refuse the hearts death and heal soon.

The Path She Strides

The path she takes tends to lean
Towards one side more than the other it seems.
Down the dim-lit path she strides,
They are few but loyal in whom she confides.
Where does she go? Can you see? Does it matter?
They that cross her, she calls each black cat hers.
She knows dawn will come of its own accord,
And how she gets there is as important as her choice of room and board.

Weeds?


A shower comes to springs end.
A new dawn with which to tend,
Each new day having brought a seed,
Whether it a flower or it a weed.
Though who’s to say which one is?
The beholder’s as shallow as it is,
Every daughter and son: a judge unto themselves.
Every court without a jury; mercilessly and unjustly delves
Into the case of assigning value.
Into the ends that suit themselves.

History Repeats

How foolish that, a child may,
In passing danger, forget to say
To its comrade close in tow,
“Beware!” and “Look out below!”
Once passed the danger fades.
Out of sight, they’ll continue to play
Look again and you might see,
That foolish are the children we.
History is the passing danger.
The playmate is the foretold stranger,
What was past, if then forgotten,
Shall have us caught in its tomb, rotten.

No Use In Asking Ashes

Transcendent fire on the forest floor
Lifts one higher than before.
Not unlike dust in the wind,
Smoke curls in and out again.
Rising above the trees below
She sees the ashes she did sow.
And in destructions wake it seems,
A moment to take and slowly breathe.
The pale rose sunset against a sky too long,
Ushers in a dimmer dawn.
No use in asking ashes “What if?”
She lifts herself to give the sky a kiss.

Artwork by loish at http://www.loish.net