A Quest on Overdrive … :)

An eccentric rambler on life's lessons and mercies, found and lost… :)


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Doodle

This has got to be one of the silliest ever in terms of rhyme, so please bear with this rambler 😀

When words curdle
From their easy flow
It means your thoughts scramble
From feelings that strongly blow.

So letters detached
From words, once attached
Create mayhem in meaning
(And) the rambler in confusion, wondering…

What went sour?

The words?

Or their meaning?

26 September, through to 1 October 😀

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Words, to Read

Words leap out
From pages
I have not read;

Seek me, reach out
Softly settling on my skin.
Lost, I jump out of it-

When they touch.

Those are pages
I cannot read.
Anymore.
Why? Because they
Read themselves out?

No, no. No, no.
More, perhaps, because
I’m afraid
Of what it might
Take to read.

The undercurrents would
Drag me, drown me.

I shall be lost. Lost.
To Them.
I am already lost
With Them;
Just knowing they are there.

What it would do-
Knowing Them
Is the risk I cannot take.

They’re the fallen leaves.
On the road I cannot take.

27 August, 2014
One of those “Class” writes. 🙂


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So, today …

… bang in the middle of the day
I wait for those words, lurking
Just there. Just there.
Where I cannot reach.

They came, with the waking moment.
That moment, when you are, and you aren’t.
That moment, when clarity strikes.
And fuzzy warmth of slow recognition
Mists over.

I reached out. Too late…
Like petulant children, they shied away.
That moment is when they wanted me.
Not two ticks later.

So here, in the middle of the day
I sit. I yearn. I plead. I know though
They won’t surface now.
I also know when they will. 🙂

Not now. But at that moment,
When I turn away, peeking like those
Perky persistently playful creatures they are.
Not words. Not anymore.

They’ve grown beyond that
Into a yearning. Into a secret pleasure.

I don’t know the story yet.
Or the ending.
All I have, are these tingles
These feathery-touch-me-softly promises
From them.

They’ll come.
They’d better.

… They ought to.

They will, won’t they?

heart-words1

14 February, 2013

Google images brought me to this pic. … from this place:
http://clairemca.wordpress.com/2012/05/07/a-love-of-words-and-music/
The picture belongs to its creator there.


12 Comments

Quest(ion)ing

I work with words
Work around them
Turn them inside out,
Sometimes invert them
Within themselves…

Split each one, tear limb from limb
And share their screaming silences
Or their silent laughter
With innocence writ large in confounded
faces

Sometimes, again, with blasé bored shut down faces.

Sometimes, I see them dancing, hanging playfully
Below the ceiling, creeping in through windows
Where a stray eye streaks out to escape the
Stifling metaphor that coagulates her brain…

And at question time, I wonder at the looks:
Ask, and eyes vacantly hunt upwards,
Seeking the selfsame words I tried to give them
Only they indifferently ignored them… 🙂

And now, I see them, there, tantalizingly hovering
Playing hide and seek, as the questing eyes
Cast upwards…

Quest(ion)ing…

How I love that about them!

31 January, 2012
((Live in Class today :))


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Adrift

Misty morning 
Mooring undone 
I drift. 
Wondering, wandering 
No pier in sight, and yet 
Yet, 
Breakers sound, in the distance 
As your call. 
Home. Harbour. A safe berth. I am born again.
2 August, 2011
Nonsensical yet… 🙂
Pic: Courtesy Google Image Search