20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


Vampire

coagulating

vampiric breath rising up

history arrives

 

history arrives

multiple index entries

flesh life no longer

 

flesh life no longer

devoid of metal stone wood

immortality

 

immortality

memic fashion center stage

all for naught or else

 


2 Comments

Marie

From mountain side
it is easy to see
the turning of the earth.
The wind pushing clouds
creating shadows,
dark and light only
moments apart.
Up here the trees sway
slow dances in the wind.

I watch you,
perched on a rock
beside bubbling spring.
Completely comfortable
in your nakedness;
at peace with the way
skin stretches over bone.

I wonder if there will
ever be a time
when I, too, can let my
hair fall upon bare shoulders,
when awkwardness vanishes
in the folds of soft flesh
stretched toward blue sky,
when I can sit securely
on my own branch without fear.

The river runs thick this year,
higher and faster than I
have ever seen it.
Like you,
it no longer holds
its breath, but I
can’t remember how to exhale.


January Moon

You erupted the sky that night,
turned the black an ocean blue.
You halo your light wide,
invoking strange regressions
I thought were long forgotten.

I expected rebirth,
a quake to the foundation,
but was greeted with the memory
of the color I swam toward
when I fell from the boat.
Disoriented and desperate,
I swam deeper until I was hooked
by the waist and pulled
gasping to surface.

It was the first time
I was lost.
The first time I stretched
in the wrong direction,
only to be dragged
unwilling back to sanity.

In the morning the bedroom window
is covered with a thin layer of dew,
the cold condensed into liquid
that clouds and drips across thin panes,
blocking out the sunrise.


3 Comments

some memory’s are better than others

Do You Remember the First Time?

Do You Remember the First Time? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

With everything I can’t remember , a random memory will( it seems) rear it’s being at the exact time as I didn’t need to remember it… is it getting older…Hmmmm I’m not so sure…I’m thinking we lose certain memory’s to maintain balance ..with that said (just my opinion)…I read some of my old posts (I was in a very dark place for a while) but I never really remembered some of them …really weird …, I have also been dreaming some things from the past , dredging up old pain …. I don’t know why….I wish it would stop tho….any way I’m done rambling for now …Have a good night all…peace


1 Comment

Clay

Glazed and into the kiln

is the way it used to be

or sunbaked,

the heroes and hunters

circled the vase.

These days, it’s ashtrays and flowerpots

painted mimosa

to give praise

to the passing days

of summer camp

Where these were shaped

to bring home

to mom and dad.

 

Clay, hold your tears in

or else you’ll be too

moist for the wheel.

Clay, don’t be too strong or ten digits

won’t be able to dig in

and give you purpose.

Clay, be ready, there are still things left

for you to hold onto

until the students

and pros

dig you up.

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