It’s funny how

It is a cruel life indeed,

for all time-spent living, the heart does bleed.

To feel things you feel no other creature feels.

To comprehend something so inert it makes your heart reel.

The scent of a flower reveals its beauty.

Clashing of metal telling stories of medieval duty.

A song can take you places you have never saw.

A breeze and your spirit sores over the earth, breaking that law.

When a story, a song, a vision can be gained from simple things.

For a fleeting moment, joy this does bring.

To realize that all things around you tell a story, 

from the sky above to the deepest quarry.

A story about life from creation to creation, A story about death from desecration to desecration.

Everything in nature has a place and a meaning.

Everything has a sensation that leaves your senses teaming.

Life had purpose and meaning, even the smallest of features, it can shake your very being because you feel it like no other creature.

June Musical Poetry Prompt | Living Poetry

Waste Land 

I have been told this phase of my life is called the “waste land”. Nothingness. Total nothingness. You perceive yourself as a misshapen monster. You look back on life. The past, it’s dead and gone. You feel empty, hollow, useless. You look forward on your life, you see nothing on the road. Nothing! For all is black, dark impenetrable nothingness. 

We spend so much energy to reach the plateau. That point in our lives when life begins. We are groomed. Educated. Trained for this. Those before us tell us fantastic stories about this stage in our lives. Yet, when we look down from the blank stage, we see just how exquisite the journey really was that brought us to nothingness. Loneliness. Despair. 

*Author’s note. I had an old satchel under my night stand; covered with 20 plus years of dust. It contained page after page of stories I had started. This is one example. 

Words

Though our eyes have never encountered, 

I can sense the quiver of time in you.

Time becomes an innuendo of life, 

when reading words sensual and sweet-typed by eloquent digits that I have never felt.

With each letter, I can see them dance across the keys with deliberate firmness and quiet finesse.

Excitement, joy and anticipation fill me from the thought of communicating with a soul not far removed from my own.

Your words mean more to me than you shall ever know.

Worlds apart we seem to be in the physical state.

Side by side we have an emotional fate.

The sound of your voice radiates from the blackness drifting into my dreams.

Your words sweep through me comforting, chilling, thrilling, me to my very core.

Let not your presents be a figment of my naive mind.

Everything about you seems so natural to me.

Every word gliding across the screen is a spark of life.

Words are power.

Power to reignite the soul.

Spark the imagination.

Fuel the mind.

Reanimate the body.

Words make us laugh.

Words make us cry.

Words keep me wanting to keep communicating with you.

Coreopsis 22 a

       Orion knocked on Sarah’s door but there was no answer. “Sarah,” he called to her. “Sarah.” His cries had alerted the maid in charge of these rooms. “Open this door.”

     She did. 

     Orion searched everywhere. He noticed the door to the bathroom was locked. As he walked away from the bathroom door to leave, a feeling washed over him not to. As he walked back to the bathroom door, he grew weak. “Sarah.” He called to the maid. “Open it.” She did so. 

   Sarah was sitting in the bathroom floor leaning against the tub. Her head was spinning. A fire was growing in the pit of her stomach. Slowly, painfully it was moving to her chest. A sudden pain, like someone stabbed her, radiated from her heart. She slid down the tub, her head caught on the rim. She looked like a fish out of water gasping for breath.

   She heard Orion but was unable to do anything about it.

   “Sarah!”

     A huge man appeared behind Orion. 

     “Sarah.” Orion called lifting her head. “Sarah.”  

   She whispered but the words was too soft. 

   “Say it again.” Orion encouraged. 

   “Ol,” was squeaked out. 

     “Put her on the bed and go get Carter.” Orion called to the stranger. 

     He did. 

   Dr. Carter walked into the room. “Sarah.”

   “In here.” Orion called to him.

   “What happened?” He leaned over her, examining her. 

   “Ol,” she hissed again.

   “What is she saying?”  Carter asked. 

   Orion shook his head, “I don’t know.” He sat on her left side, holding her hand. 

   James walked in, “what’s going on?”

   “We don’t know yet.” Jack answered. “We just found her.”

   “Ol,” she moaned again.

   King James’ turned white. 

   She tightened her grip on Orion’s hand. “G ceo qztnn bft qenb.” 

   “I know I am hearing things.” James remarked.

   “What is she saying?” Orion asked.

   James stormed out of the room.