Triumphant In Shadows That Depart The Room
An Eternal Wondering
My heart, my heart
I'm filled with a question
An eternal wondering
A quiet genuflection
For you
Triumphant shadows depart the room
Shadows are troubles
Freedom in a crisp blue sky and little white flowers
Let me at least write this
For you have all the power
Are you here to take him away?
Never take away from anything
To make him stay and bring boldness back
Sighs on your shoulders like wings to soothe
If clouds could speak, they'd light your face
Because that's the light shining on you
A whisper from the north star
Is a comfort that fills the space
Is peace
Hands that come together
Is monumental grace
A vision sweet
The Emperor and Virgil scrying steam from a font
This, in Heaven, is where all beginnings start
What was the question?
Now I can't remember it
That's what you do to me
~/\~
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About the Creator
Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author
Published Poet and Author. Making rainy days feel like Sundays with words.
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More stories from Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author and writers in Poets and other communities.
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
This is beautiful and so well written
Beautiful poem!