.....I’m devoured....

The scent covers the lies.

The water is clear and holds me!

The kingdom of magic propels my cowering wings, and inspires the broken soul

....Of Course the course is jagged....

What constitutes the past,

but the issuing of what has to come;

in the hands of the lovers of the present and future.

When I push apart the grey clouds,

I have little trouble reaching the light.

....I wander this reflection with pure gratitude....

....The doors revolve

infinitely...

I live on the dark roads where the sun covers faces with streaks of orange and red,

I breathe with my brother and sister as they sleep in the cozy car as she drives fearing nothing...

What is it there I cannot see,

what is it there that will never be,

is that a smile or frown,

a drop of sweat or a tear?

What is it there I cannot see,

is it my youth fading away,

days passed so far away?

Is it what I will never know,

to remain a mystery never to grow?

Will it ever come to pass,

staring at myself in the stilled reflection of pure glass;

or will it go the grave with me.

Matters not to do, but only to be.

our reflections

the Poet has

first and foremost

words

before 

coffee or tea and toast

(and sugar and cream of course)

that said Poet sips

and stirs 

a writing implement

and notes 

with lips-smacking 

how this breakfast

tastes so much

like a dream

does

and 

passes us

the sacred spoon

and cup

with fingerprints

pressed ghostly

to the brim

where only

condensation

had been

and when

looking deep

within

we are 

there

arrested 

by our scent

on the trail

of a poem

that eloped

and 

are ever

enchanted 

by its steam

left for us to

sink or swim

our literary

teeth

in

and feast our 

thinking

on the 

AM of

yesterday

evening

#reflection #challenge

Every day I stare back at the

reflection in the pond,

the face in the mirror,

the thing that claims to be me,

and I wonder: is this me?

Is the dirty face me?

Are the scarred arms me?

Is the matted greasy hair me?

Are the eyes mine,

or are they someone else's,

just made to reflect my emotions?

Are my hands mine,

are my words mine,

or is my whole body plagarized

like a highschool english paper?

Are my thoughts mine?

Are my stories mine?

Or are they, like the rest of me,

copied from some lowlife long ago?

Lapping on the sandy shore

The gentle waves of sea

With ocean's air a harmony

My soul, soothing to sleep

Washing 'pon my wounded heart

Cleansing me of grief

Sifting sand and sediment

With healing therapy

Salty is the splashing foam

Mixing with my tears

Burning; wounds exposed

Of sorrowness and fear

Water's reflection of the light

Nears silently toward me

Enveloped in its kiss of warmth

The sun walks 'cross the sea

My eyes gaze on its form

The star, shaped like a cross

Reminding me of heaven

And without, I'd be a loss

The tide draws near my body

And takes me out to sea

Measureless, like His love

How high, long, wide and deep

At last, I'm given respite

From the pain that suffocates

In arms that care and waters

There, upon the sandy beach

In that single moment,

everything stilled

then, in a slow movement,

the water shattered

her tears fell

each drop lost in the ocean

ripples vibrated,

shaking the core of the ocean

leaving distorted reflections

on the surface

pieces of her face

her lips

her eyes

her ears

shards of memories

her father

her mother

her family

her home

they lay around her,

so many

too far away

splintered pieces of her,

each lost to the ocean

she watched

as each drifted away

lost to the current

and she,

an emptiness

hollow hole left

lost to the world

floating in the ocean

overflowed with its

bitter taste

of isolation

a distorted reflection of

her soul on

the surface of the

night sky

no stars

no moon

just...

simply nothing.

Driving along I95, I finally see

glimpses of the water to my left

as we head to Vero Beach

the air turns to that familiar

scent of the sea, even if it is

just imaginary to me

So many thoughts, through my head

as I meander down the highway

to my home by the sea

The trip brings such emotions

too many of what we had and didn't

that I long for my pillow and bed

But now I am here, with thoughts

of you by my side and think of how I'd

say things differently, between you and I

and finally say what you mean to me

and put this ache aside

Traveling, to my home by the sea,

wiping away this reflection of you

as the warm air rushes past my face

as if it were your touch of hand

as we lay in our pillow and bed...

I see forever and yet my eyes do not leave the room

They spy a habit filling my soul with acid and gloom

Life laughs when we fail to learn from its bitter rejection

It knows of a future earned through solace and reflection

So be strong, do not despair, leap proud into the air

Pain is the sage's gift, it grants us advice so rare

Remember that whatever dragged you to this place

Can't harm a heart that pumps with wisdom and grace 

What a projection,

Of the retrospection,

Of all the collection,

My reflection.

There is no impression,

Without your discretion,

All the suggestions,

Stamped with expressions.

Everything in my arena,

Caught on your camera,

No hidden agenda,

Everything on the antenna.

You know how I dwell,

Even in my shell,

I cannot quell,

You even in my death knell.

I look into the mirror

and wonder if I see

the same woman in your eyes

when you are looking at me.

Am I pretty?

Am I kind?

Is there great knowledge

in my mind?

Can you see love

reflected in my eyes 

or pain or sadness

that never dies?

Do you see beneath the surface?

Do you see beyond the smile?

Do you feel my soul’s turbulence

Do you think I can be vile?

Can you love what I hate?

Can you help me to see

what’s really there

what’s truly me?

Can you be my reflection 

tell me who I am

guide me to myself

Perhaps even give a damn?