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Nature is immortal

*Image prompt*
Swinging beneath the oak tree
I hear the tinkle of her laughter

I feel the breeze light
Peek through the tops of branches, undiluted sunshine ☀️flashes
it’s eyes looks down upon me.

Free,
In awe,

The sight of the flowers so striking

I remember them so vividly.

My gaze momentarily suspended
My heart
beats blessed to be in this moment.


Mother and child together preserved in this portrait

My memory states nature is immortal for eternity.

Nature’s word cloud 💭

*poem inspired by making a word cloud of words I associate with nature*

Greed begets Intelligence
Animals rapidly become extinct
Beliefs about climate change
Ignorance – our children blame the seasons.

A pregnant pause, enlightenment shakes its head in disbelief.

Woe, our animals
Woe, our children
Woe, nature has become the beast.

Mortality balances out death
A rebirth of natural feelings causes us to sigh with our grief.

Oh, how to let the sunlight in?
Oh, how to bear these storms?


Oh, how to see the silver lining when mist obscures all common sense?

Oh, how will we learn to embrace the purity of snow,
When does our fatal flaw refuse to allow mother nature to get her way?

One element of me

  First appearances people see the peak of an iceberg
I’m frosty, aloof and alas, on occasion I am mean.
                                   GRRRRRRR.

If a person wishes to explore more of my make up they’ll find layered depths of frenetic intensity.
I have secrets of a history spanning over decades often feeling I’ve lived for centuries.
Am I immortal?
I’m merely human, don’t you see?

Occasionally, my demeanour melts at the sight of past enemies.
I’ve learned to be durable
Have the strength to endure a life span of over three decades.
An incredible feat, don’t you agree?

When poorly I’m cold
Under the sunshine, I bask in the glory
Honoured to feel;
Honoured to acknowledge I too have victories.

Oft I catch people off guard with bursting shouts, Look at my glee!

Inner confidence harks, Don’t underestimate me!


Many moon cycles left behind in the dark.
Startled by spring to be reborn
Nature is cruel
Thoughts of how can I summon up the will to carry on?

Life drags on a lit cigarette hope rapidly distinguishes
The light I can barely see.


Life stamp me out,
a frazzled repressive voice alien to the world.
This is how I feel!

A weedy, nondescript Daisy,
If it turns a head to the sunshine I bloom into a true flower
radiant; carefree

Wild and untameable.

I was born to be free
I wasn’t born to conform to the expectations of some society.
 

Nature

Today’s prompt is to write a quote of I’m how I view or define nature.

My quote

And so the Sun rises; the 🌸 ‘s bloom too

And so nature will yearn for the frosted morning dew.


Rebirth will follow,  fear not for dawn will always follow – anew.





It turned into A borderline quote /poetry. This activity intends to have fun with it.

I’m thinking about what element of nature I think I’m more like and why I feel I’m like that element so that I elaborate on the characteristics and personality I feel an  affinity with.


I’ve always loved the water.  Still, waters run deep.
I’ve also noticed I can be mercurial, have my head in the clouds and chatty.

I may turn this into a type of poem. I’m not sure what kind of poem to write
There are so many to choose from.

Haikus
Free verse
Limerick
Sonnet
Acrostic
Epic.

My favourite poem is by an unknown author

Loveless -A pensee poem

I’ve never done this type of poem. The format is straight forward.

  • Title 2 syllables
  • Description 4 syllables
  • Action is 6 syllables
  • location 8 syllables
  • ending 6 syllables.
  • And the final rule is that it can’t rhyme

LOVE LESS

it won’t hurt much
scrub off the scent of his odour
bleach the bath with your morning shit
love costs more heartache

Passion less magical

Cats demand cuddles
A clean page soaked in wasted words written in yellow ink
The music falls on deaf ears
Unread unopened books will let me down – or will it be my imagination?
I glance around the room of despair comfortably numb for three hours until a child smiles for her mom’s unfounded fears.

Untitled

so inept by a blackened imagination
colours wither away, winter outsmiles
stilled yet not frozen. those exhiled frowns en route stragglers exhiled to Siberia.

I’m desperately desolate that these nightmares took the by pass . Limits to hope of revelling in reality once more spring
bursts into a yawn , light stretches worn out clinging onto last winter’s stained sweater.

A scream demands tending to kettle whistling for it’s masters attention

it begs summer to part with mercy & grace
so inept by a blackened imagination.

Image prompt – perspective

I’m finally feeling the writing buzz again. Phew! I thought I had lost my passion for writing. It started to become a chore. Since I have started engaging in writing challenge again I feel that rush of euphoria I get from feeling the pen move across the page staining it with ink. I feel stimulated, passionate about my writing & I feel authentic again about the themes I write about.

Today’s writing challenge is an image prompt. Write a 4 line poem based on this hollowed out tree trunk.

Here is mine. Don’t forget to upload your website link with post so we can read them.

Here is mine

Operation clam

Maybe I’m not who I say am.

Maybe I’m too prised shut.

Im certainly not the man

More likened to a clam.

 

Plenty of fish to test my lack of faith.

Indirect lines

Caught in the net-

Delivering me to an Ill designed fate.

 

Mate,

Tag me with an aphrodisiac.

Swimming in the theatre room

Hang up my ten phalanges

To ward off the inner crowd.

 

Grains of sand obscure my funny elbow.

Morose in all affairs

Wander afar from the nudists-

They emulate all my common fears.

They are my foes.

 

Grains of sand.

A Stormy clap of hands.

 

Alone in this operation,

The agenda is to make sure I get by on an innuendo.

Fear to be me-

To let the tears show up my negativity.

 

Look for the silver lining…

Give up?

Be happy or die trying.

This is a message in a bottle

Fish are borderline crying.

 

In yer face

Illiterate

Poet,

writer,

Creative of my right palm.

Read in between the lines

I’m the maker of my own divine crime.

 

Forlorn- she was not a tree

She didn’t know it then

she knew now.

Woken up with on a  loop blasting around her mind in surreal sound-

 the Russian bass choir chanting in all surround.

An apt app unconsciousness knew her well.

A year ago, life had been different.

Mirthful, optimistic playful

 Now,  rooted to the spot with foliage, branches, lush leaves taking in the vagabonds seeking shelter.

Lost souls in need hidden by darkness

these nomadic souls plotting their next move.

Time for souls to gather there their thoughts

 the continued search of their dreams and pursuits.

Forlorn found herself lost in her own shades of solitude.

She was alone. Tucked up in her double bed -a pattern of flowers – all Huey reds and purples.

 Forlorn – wrapped up in a ditzy forlorn pattern matched her current mental state.

She could feel the bubbling creeping up to death by poison ivy- curling it’s away from the roots of her feet upwards.

It would not stop until she was mummified into silence.

She knew it wanted to make sure her mouth, eyes & nose covered  in bondage to the soil solidly planted her roots.

One day she had an epiphany.

 Moments of clarity were few.

 A  possibility to be something purposeful meaningful for her.

She had given life sustained it for those souls.

Yet she was weary, ageing.

Before she was forced to put down roots in an abode that spoke in foreign serpentine tongues;

Forlorn had forgotten she used to be a road runner girl.

A girl was taken by flights of fancy on a whim.

Ready to outrun her nemesis wanting to keep her hostage in a place she knew she didn’t belong.

An elder had kept her close to her.

Fearful to let her be free

To be whatever She wanted to be.

 She begged her ancestors to rouse the beasts of deforestation to seize her keeper.

 she could get a clean break – start over.

Feel movement not in height but in fluidity.

Nostalgic fragments of past it feelings -fragments

a pair of wings

A pair of  arms

Even a pair of legs again.

 Seasons passed still, she lay rooted to this spot. Full and plumaged as ever.

Ready to entice wanderers to seek shelter for without telling her a reason.

 

 She fidgeted, yawned, stretched willing pine bristles to deter these unwanted vagrants.

 Her heart had almost given up. She had succumbed to what she supposed was her last winter.

One eve she looked at the bees collecting sweet nectar for the unseen Gods.

Forlorn conceived a sapling of hope

Mental Rummaging a sense of Deja Vu.

I know it’s here’- impatient, sighing.

 

A piece of technology from the world she was once a part of.

A means of magic.

A way to communicate her distress.

Tangled hands finally caught the pointed end of a carved, wooden wand.

Slim, compact light.

Her true form to be again.

Stretching open her eyeballs could be made simpler if she had the eyelashes to wipe away the moss interfering with her vision to flee..

Diminished another sense

She would forget who she was

 what she wanted to be

 She drifted into a frightful sleep.

A woodpecker hammered a hole of her  bleak existence.

The epiphany.

The start of her new life was in a gestation period of fewer than 12 hours!

How did I sleep for so long? Christ! berating her herself under the twilight

Suddenly a swarm, around her were a fleet of fireflies.

 One eyeball strained

and out into focus confirmed  her impending anxiousness starting to emit it’s familiar disparate gas into her trunk form.

The final place she held on to her liberty – her mind.

Thoughts ploughed at her – like a farmer attacking a poorly harvested crop.

Not fit for tendering

Nor the soft touch of her keeper.

 

Soiled ground.

Soiled soul.

Soiled mind.

She fought with all might

Absorbed more -light, water, words…

The elder’s I told you so voice pulled her back into the darkness of her gloom.

Just like a car needs fuel to keep going so does the body need food… photosynthesize.

Try and be what you are destined to be. A tree.

Blasting  those voices back into the void from whence it had snatched out

Reaching over – without much of a search

 Rustled her leaves  -A call  out for new bosom firefly friends.

A loud moan persisted from her innermost pit.

Hunger.

Hunger to be free in the form she still chose to be.

Chronic cramp. If only for the longing desire she had for her legs or wings to ease the pain of being motionless.

It wasn’t enough that she contributed towards sustaining other life species.

This stagnant obsession never seeing a sunrise from another part of the world again.

She looked down at her well-worn form.

How hard can it be to throw herself back to a time when she had legs?

Gills?

Wings?

a moments thought yanked her back like leashed like a dog to this home she felt no affinity .

Forlorn inhaled the scented berries, unravelling the mask of sight at the  ivy,

A glimpse an assortment of psychedelic fleurs initiating that it was time to wake up.

One more push, one more fight.

Forlorn no more she’d set herself free.

Fear

FEAR

Is an aggressive Siamese fighting  fish
ninja like territorial guards what  it deems its possessions
intemperate seas
unable to recognise its own reflection.

 

My confessions of being a fraud