Search

Cackles.From.A.Mad.Duck

'Who am I' she asks : A creative explosion of paradoxical remarks the student replied.

Tag

Writing

The Occupation

vigil

I’ll tell you how it was the world
changed, she said — the darkness
wrapped us around.

I heard her clearly, though I barely
heard the words. It was nearly — yes —
as if she was singing.

Our job, she was saying, was not
to change the world — nor even
to keep it from changing.

No, she was saying (the story
was over already): our only
job is being changed.

 


Selected Poems : Robert Bringhurst

Charged

hands-felix

How emotions get the better hold of us, I’ve always thought
I’d see it coming but it catches me by surprise
at every turn, I begin to think it can’t be possible and yet still
you persist in my thoughts. “I’ve got to stop now,” I say
so, until time brings you closer again.

New Age

eye-sight-616486

When I think of the way you type, the methodical movements on the keyboard
equipped with a forefinger on each hand, I try to imagine
how you processed the world. Whether you were acutely aware
of the disadvantages against us. I think of this and try to imagine
Of your existence in this world again. How you would view this new age in case
I haven’t grown big enough to protect you.

Mother

2048-12-1500x1000

The name we call first,
warmth served to what I found
the most sincerely flawed abundance
that we could only ask for
no more but your unconditional love
in motherhood.

Happiness

19431859261e12c5ba63da8f57b776ee-regret-photography-breathe-photography

Fast.
The state of being
happy, goes so fast. It turns weeks into
seconds only, as if you could see hence a foreword
to the good things.
The preclude makes it bearable that way, in the
meanwhile, all the while we live
day by day.

Restless

restless-storm-whispering-peaks-photography

Those nights seem infinite, when you’re feeling
restless. Missing out on all the universal signs, you’d think
it’d be more clear cut. The night is impassive to your search, it says
a change is to come by confused winds.
Dispelled by the morning light; have you found it yet?
What you were looking for.

Sober

f7fae34ccef755487d2f3d4ea091a02e-american-flag-beds

Would relapse be those mornings I wake up too soon
to find that you were on the cusp of my imagination.
It seems to make more sense before I confess aloud
these longings that seem so ridiculous now.
I feel like I’ve been drunk or high,
but what it really is, is to wake up;
you’re not here anymore.

Rescue

2016-06-27-black-white-photo-00

I see it everywhere, the colloquial equivalent
Of the most ambitious sort.
“I’m most afraid,
The world is a lonely sport.”
Judging whether we ought to be rescued, I can’t help
Without being wrought
Catatonic by my own muse, knowing we had
Already known this in life and strive yet
Against the ubiquity of being alone.

Remember

fading_for_life_viii_by_slevinaaron-d6uqpo9

Letting go of your hand, I felt fear
In case you would forget me, long after I
Had already begun to move on.
“Why do you think we want to be
Remembered?” You asked once before.
I stopped making believe
Of our fake dialogues since
I can remember.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

celeste lee cloud

writer & artist

BREVITY's Nonfiction Blog

Daily Discussions of craft and the writing life

Just a dad ...

Still a coach. Still a daddy. Just not Coach Daddy anymore.

Bespoke Traveler

Immersive Tales for the Curious Explorer

bluebird of bitterness

The opinions expressed are those of the author. You go get your own opinions.

Ned's Blog

Humor at the Speed of Life

Bad Cat Chris

The Baddest Cat You'll Ever Love