Ominously Crafted
a poetry collection about the storm coming, twisted perceptions and being caged
Caged in the Captivity of Time
Coming and going through the same routine
Always stuck in the same pattern
Gone are the days of spontaneity
Every morning, every night — the same.
Days went by as I got used to this life.
Being someone who craves novelty
I woke up from the monotony
Realizing just how important it was to me:
Days spent in creativity instead of captivity.
***
Twisted Perception
Cycles come and go
each time
renewed
retaining something old
yet new.
“Each revolution
hopefully brings us forward into
something BETTER” —
they say
but have you ever
realized that
“better”
is always defined
by the victors?
***
Incoming Storm
“storm”
gives it a harsh sound,
as if we’re about
to be hit with
something violent
when today
all that’s arriving
is winter’s first
blanket of snow,
ready to melt
by next morning
in fluctuating warmth.
***
This trio of pieces were originally published here, here and here.
About the Creator
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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