Revival – A poem

I wrote this poem as a submission for 2017’s poetryonbuses.org project.

The topic is Your Body of Water. I hope that the metaphor inspires :)

Revival

I am fluid and move with grace,
Eroding the path I follow,
Leaving my mark in this human rat race.

I cleanse what I pass,
Leaving what’s underneath
Revealed to shine like glass.

Rediscover what you’ve hidden
Beneath the dust.

Rise above and seize your days
Before they rust.

Medium

The silence of the blank canvas is overwhelming. Any clank or clatter, a welcome distraction from my mind that tries so hard to sing the notes yet no sound comes out.

But what is the picture? I feel the rhythm, but as soon as I reach for it, it ceases. The color fades to a dull whiteness.

Out of reach. There are no words. There is no sound. There is no color, no lines.

Just the emptiness of my soul longing to reach and find something. Anything.

WordSprint – Treacherous Journey

110 words, but I started late (psh, no excuses) It was also my first one.

When I got to the chasm, I stared through the windshield with a bewildered look on my face. Anyone around would have thought I’d seen a manticore or something. Good thing this place is so isolated, I said to myself, looking back across the sandy desert I had just crossed.

This wasn’t even a bridge. It was, literally, a 30-foot set of monkey bars. Couldn’t have been more than two feet wide. Yet, on the other side, I could see it. Pure gold. The fruits of my labor. Blue, sparkling water.

I had to cross. There was no way other than the obvious.

Swing, grab. Swing, grab. Don’t.. Look.. Down.

Snapshots

Thursday looks behind her. Blinded by the wasn’ts and did-nots of yesterday, the dids are left in the shadows. Not gone, just unrecognized, out of focus.

She twists the lens and the unseen becomes visible. The rest blurs into the background. Satisfied, she captures the frame.

Everything is there and nothing is forgotten. The choice of focal point is always at the hands of the artist.

Reminiscing

You do a few things here and there, maybe go a few places. Yet, somehow, feel like you’ve hardly done anything over a long period of time. Probably years. Life’s funny like that.

But when you visit one of these places from the past, the memories come rushing in. The sights, the people, the silence. The time spent there was short, and it’s easier to forget the little things. It makes you wonder, is this really the same life?

Treasure Hunt

The sun casts no shadows at high noon. At a short distance, the mouth of a cave stood wide open. The cool darkness was a welcoming thought and, before I knew it, my feet had dragged my heavy body to it’s mouth.

The walls were smooth to the touch and emitted an aura of wet, cool air. I felt the heat of my body dissipate into rock the instant I rest my back upon it. Relief and rejuvenation came shortly after.

“Where does this cave lead?” I wondered, and again, without a second thought, my wandering feet took me deeper. The light at the mouth grew smaller behind me and the cave darker in front of me. My right hand pressed against the smooth rock which became course and dusty as I progressed. The light was but a pinprick now and only pitch black remained ahead. Still, I continued, until the light was no more.

“Hello?” I said, and “Hello?” I heard back. The echo of my hesitant voice resonated, hollow, back to me and I knew there was so much more to be seen. I took a deep breath and turned around. This time, my left hand traced the wall and guided me back the way I came.

The sun’s shift gave back my shadow and the heat was not so intense. I stood for a moment, looking back at the dark cave from where I had just come.

“I bet there’s treasure in there, just waiting to be found!” Her voice startled me. I thought I was alone. Curious and eager with a hint of excitement, she held up a flashlight.

“What are we waiting for?” I replied.