Tag Archives: searching

05.13.21
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Contrast (an acrostic poem)

Image: images.saatchiart.com/saatchi/993084/art/7946096/7013651-QABXKDML-7.jpg

Cold, cold logic sets fire to my imagination

Oblivious to the pain, I draw out tears of joy

Nothing can stop me but myself

That’s what makes creating so hard.  It’s destroying simple things

Reaching the basic elements and then building complex structures on them

Always digging deeper and climbing higher

Searching for the thing that is always with you

That is the war of the abstract and realism that defines me

04.09.20
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Mask (an acrostic poem)

 

Microscopic particle inhibitor instillation

Allows me to sally forth into the wilds

Searching for consumables

Knowing there will never be toilet paper again

 

Image: cdn10.bigcommerce.com/s-p10g1rn/products/904/images/1229/3mtm-health-care-particulate-respirator-and-surgical-mask-1860__33160.1428510768.1280.1280.jpg

07.17.19
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Pretty (a 100 word story)

Lincoln believed he was very confident in who he was, but still had this aching desire to be called pretty by someone.  Hell, anyone.  He was called many things, but never that magical word.

Finally, after a long time of searching everywhere, he finally heard the words, “You are pretty, Lincoln.”  It put such a huge smile on his face.

He wished he could have hugged the man in the mirror who said it, but instead he wrapped his arms around himself.  It might not be much, but it was a start.

He had to be the first to believe.

 

Image: heyprettybeauty.com/uploads/3/4/4/6/34468089/published/1433381334.jpeg

12.04.18
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Found (an acrostic poem)

Four years ago Sable set out to find herself

Outside of her job, she had nothing holding her back

Undertaking this journey met getting rid of everything

Now she is a digital nomad roaming, writing, and ever searching

Don’t know if her quest will ever be successful, but the journey is amazing

 

Image: d2v9y0dukr6mq2.cloudfront.net/video/thumbnail/EY9TNdi/old-vintage-compass-on-ancient-map_eixvskbwce__F0000.png

11.25.18
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Thirst (an acrostic poem)

Too many times he had gone back to the pump

He was doing it again even now

It wasn’t going to change anything.  The water wouldn’t be there

Reaching for the ancient handle, he pumped it up and down vigorously

Staring at the dusty spout, begging for a hint of liquid to form at its edge

They found him there two weeks later still searching for a drink

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bf/An_old_Hand_Pump_at_Yeleswaram.jpg