Crafty Child

Bright-eyed young girl,
Curious and crafty,
Let’s start a project and learn to crochet.

Tiring quickly,
She abandoned the lesson.
She couldn’t see past the first stitch-
Obsessed with chains, with growing taller,
The neverending line of connection
So easily unfurled.

Chains, chains, chains.
Chains everywhere and every day.
Quickly and carefully created by this crafty girl
And unraveled even faster,
The impermanence of childhood
Displayed through her repetitive ritual.

She lost interest as quickly
As any other once-inspired child,
And many years without crocheted chains passed
Before a spark of inspiration woke her from her daze.

Timid hands picked up threadbare yarn, dusted with age.
Fingers moved as if possessed,
Creating chains came so easily
And her inner child was elated by the familiarity
Of her once daily routine.

The desire to unwind, to unfurl
Pulled so strong within her,
But the necessity
To create, to give life, to build something that matters
Overcame all else.

She kept making chains.
She made chains and then kept working.
She kept building on the foundation
To create something strong
Something useful
Something beautiful for herself.
For herself, she kept creating.

Prodigy

Fate took control

A force to be noted

Unfolded from the start

Of an unknown tune-

A pick against taut strings

Rock the house of our future

Transforming into a dance floor,

Den of movement,

For which we travel through

Until the court rules

Whether our lives

Will be forever intertwined.

 

In the Air

Welcomed by wires

Vocals and vibrations

Timbres, tones, tunes

Singing songs

Incorporating instruments

To create the sounds

That whisper sonnets in the air

Healing the hearts of broken lovers

And curing loneliness through the creation

Of a unity of individuals.

Pain

Self inflicted punishments

Punishing a wounded soul.

 

Soulfully devoting kindness

Kindly protecting others

Otherwise left forgotten and alone…

 

Alone in abandonment…

 

Abandoned, with long forgotten hope,

Hopelessly she falls

Falling toward an invisible self.

 

 

Confidant

There was a man that spoke in sonnets

A language native to my yearning ear

We shared our secrets in permanent ink

And laughed at trivial reality.

 

There was a man that spoke in fragments

Broken language here and there

He talked and talked as I listened

And silently loved him in my dreams.