Monday, November 9, 2009

Things Are Looking Up

Sometimes I am the angry indication of an accidental fire, blanketing the innocents around me.
Sometimes I am a jet stream, a memory of power, of surging to a destination.
Sometimes I am just a wisp, a series of horse tails flicking at the cool outer reaches of the atmosphere, remote.
Sometimes I am the big-bellied pregnant mother of the skies, threatening to break water over needy landscapes.
Sometimes, I am a gallery of surreal portraits, none remaining constant- I can’t stay still.
Sometimes I am the accessories drawer to the sun, my purples and pinks and oranges there to show off her beauty.
Sometimes I am a magician, with my pockets full of rainbows.
Sometimes I am an artist, my palette and my canvas full of blank promise.
Sometimes I like to lean on mountains for support- they never shift.
Sometimes I wait for the evening to descend, and in the morning, like an afterthought, I lift.
Sometimes I lift the hems of my cloak, to display my hoarded silver.
Sometimes I seem as full-bodied as the earth, and
Sometimes I am merely an echo of breath on a cool morning.
Sometimes I am as small as a man’s hand, cupped over the horizon, and
Sometimes I dominate, a shadow-parent adopting all of mankind.


  1. I would make some pithy comment, but I am actually dumbstruck, this is awesome writing friend, heartfelt, genuine, stunning imagery - I stand in awe x

  2. @TBFKAMP: :-) You mean I was wise to do this instead of 'the boy stood on the burning deck, his pocket full of crackers....'? I like that one, but SM already wrote it. Actually- I loathe writing serious stuff- it's like having your intestines sifted through. Bleurgh.


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