Since I deleted my old Time Out For Mom blog, most of my poetry now only exists in journals and a few on my Instagram. As I am working on self publishing a poetry book, I'd like to post a few here that might not make the final cut. My poetry tends to follow varying degrees of dark and light, and then others, such as this particular one, rather sing-song prose and seemingly as if born from a dream.
“Why do you always come here alone at night?”
The stars are brilliant here at this time. Galaxies and city lights mingling; a dance of the wild and the tamed.
“The city will grow and soon will dim all else but its own glory.”
Ah but Rituals darling, we mustn’t break them.
I used to come to wish - perchance to dream; the time of the moon enchanting when burdens are heavy. The city streets dark below and birthing terrible ideas.
I write through the shadows - wandering the world of the wide eyed and well rested; echoing clicky-clack of keys spent in the midnight hour still driving my feet.
Sometimes just surviving until their stories spark a muse to life - filling me so deep I come to stand here on my rooftop and release the whispers I stole back upon a dreaming city.
“And if the world falls silent, then where shall you go?”
Can he see the smile beneath the dark shades?
It doesn’t matter darling -there’s so much already written in the stars. Volumes of love and loss so vast; desperate to be heard - I need only wait for the light to shine on me.
I left him standing on the hilltop glade as the nestled homes below slowly hummed into their sleepy hours. Farewells are burdening tasks; this wandering soul much more akin with the lonely streets. His final thoughts flung out over the yawning breeze.
But it’s the silent streets that have so much more to say that I seek. The spirit of the people hovering over cooling concrete and winding bike paths like ghosts shifting in the wind. Their secrets laying scattered among the discarded debris while they fall into exhausted sleep.
Secrets only revealed to those who wait in the waning shadows.
I am the Watcher … and your stories will always find me.
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