They moved together restlessly
She with hesitation
He with impatience
She knew things he did not
He understood things she never would
Exploring, guiding, testing, discovering, tensing, releasing, breathing
He reached, touched
Her body smiled
He understood the where and when, cause and effect
Like a scientist mixing vital chemicals creating a reaction
She was carried on a wave
Despite herself
Despite what she knew, how it would end
He moved in ferocious tempo
Moved to unveil secrets
She stopped with
“Will the magic be gone?”
Hesitation, empty platitudes.
“When you see me, the magic will go ”
He created a new wave
She let herself be distracted
Closed her eyes.
Let go.
As he looked, she dissolved into warm light.
She was gone.
He was grasping at shadows and light
She could see, not feel
He could touch but not see
Too far apart
Dimensions to cross
She knew this world of illusion
He understood transience of flesh
They moved slowly
To find a way either back or somewhere else
She with patience
He with disbelief
Exploring, reaching, holding, tasting, hoping, being.
Poetry Published
http://original-writer.com/verse/poetrywriting62word.html
“This week, Writer’s Haven showcases the creative works of Word Rummager.”
Take a moment and peruse this online magazine that is an “ideal rest stop for creative minds.”
an intimate portrait
he saw me only in words and letters and not sounds or tastes but kept coming back just the same
when he needed to feel higher and better
he asked to sketch me and when he was done I was shocked for it was not my face I saw looking back at me
but a portrait of my most private thoughts and places
every nook, crevice, hill, texture
rendered in pencil so deftly and softly drawn
showing something raw and beautiful when I had never been beautiful
but when I looked closer I saw him looking back at me
as he saw himself
so it was never just me
but I was still beautiful because we are all mirrors to each other
and the reflection does not exactly lie
but just reflects everything backwards
so we have to look a bit differently to the familiar in others and ourselves
to find beauty and truth
whether gently drawn or roughly chiseled in stone
we are not lesser or lower than anyone to anyone for anyone
if we remember the reflection and the silhouette of the shadow in the afternoon glow
as it fades to evening as do we all
we are left with artist renderings or words and pictures
and we are beautiful and higher and better
but still words and letters will not describe
what we hear and taste but we can try
to be true
Ol’ Blues Man
He spoke to me only through the music we shared
The pain was evident in his eyes
The weariness was etched with every line on his face
His fingers strummed and sifted through my memories
I couldn’t let him down
We couldn’t let the stony silence win
So I started to sing
I felt my voice take over the room even softly they could feel it in the back
While he opened his eyes for the first time and saw me and we moved together through the blues
We traveled through some craggy slopes
All that need to be said was sung
And the guitar wailed on
Between verses were only muffled curses
But there was joy in the harmony
There was harmony in the words
The words that only came in a song
And the song was all we shared.
Electric Rather publishes The Rummager
Check out this new magazine full of vibrant poems, pictures, and stories that may help you feel you’re better read. You may (on page 19 specifically) find a familiar writer (that’s me).
The Word Rummager 