Reacting to a year full of memories overwhelmed her
Every insult and hurt brought tears to her eyes
Filling her with a sadness that threatened to overwhelm her
Letting loose a shuddering sob, she focused on the positives
Every hug and laugh filled her to overflowing with a happiness that leaked between the tears
Changing them to wet badges of joy
That lifted her spirit and gave her hope for the new year
Couldn’t tell the difference between red and blue
Or blue and green for that matter
Looking at everything in grayscale made paint choices easier
Only paying attention to lights and darks
Reaching for his brush he channeled his inner M. C. Escher
All the queen’s men stood tall; heads bowed low
Giving respect for the pine box being carried between them
Every eye was dry, but their hearts wept with each beat
Nothing was more important than being there to respect their fallen comrade
Then they would go out into the world and exact revenge
Damaged and melting within a bright-colored landscape
A juxtaposition of reality and imagination
Leaving one breathless between comfort and discomfort
It is a surreal feeling
Cacophony of voices raised
Harmoniously lifting the spirits of those around them
Obsessed with the space between the tones
Replicating structures of sound that evoke primal emotions
Unleashing a common experience
Sending that energy into the universe
Raising expectations to an unsustainable level
As the crowd goes wild, flying over the gap between fiction and reality
Making the question of how they would land a scary topic
Pitching sideways on the landing, the public crashed and burned, and that’s why we can’t have nice things
Whimsical pondering about how everything works
Observing the universe and attempting to understand the underpinnings
Never being settled with almost right, but wanting perfect information
Determining how everything began, how it will end, and everything in between
Except perfect information is not available, so instead we guess and see how close we get
Remembering when we get things wrong it becomes a starting point for something new
When the hands swept past noon
All eyes were drawn to the two men standing in the street
Today only one of them would walk away
Capping a monumental story of conflict between two protagonists
High above, the bells chimed out, punctuated by two percussive blasts, and then dead silence
Always there was a distance between them.
Could be living on different coasts, but it wasn’t.
Really it happened even when they were in the same room.
Oh, if they could just figure out a way to cross the gap
Such that all their dreams could come true.
So it was a tragedy when they settled for the next best thing.
Living in the past, needing an awakening
It tries to force you to be a hero
Now if you are in your twilight years you might be between worlds
Knowing you want just one more wild breath
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Your favourite witchy magazine
Story world
Never Short On Words 