I beckon to lilt
creek in retreat and sniffle my courageous breath forward, up. Buck under and sideways to the bleacher seats. stripes of cold popsicles melt at my haunches. undoing what may be double crossed a deterrent for pleasure a warrant for pleasure not enough teaching on pleasure war curriculum, however, is a plenty. jarring gymnastics, they run up against themselves midday when the crows are jostling treetops, casting their caws below as parade candy cascades with forceful amusement into the pockets of sam, tommy, Charles, and jones. they finger the sweets, wrappers and all. gold nuggets less appealing now. Why do we run from ourselves when we could simply shake our hands and go deeper? why do we go deeper when we could tragically run? tragedy is a heavy word on the tongue. nothing is equal. repetitive dissonance surely unmaking that which holds and positions uncertainty. where in the world is stardust? when you reach it, is it magnificent? Do the light particles dance together and apart? Wherever did she go, the shooting star? would she wonder where we are? if we cannon-fired into a galaxy off in the yonder, if we compelled our matter to dare transform beyond and beyond and beyond and on? how to hold someone dear and hold oneself dearly too. this is love. Love. Love. —b.p.d. 10/12/21
0 Comments
When the misty
dance rolls down the fog Mountains slope a sigh. Relief shakes the shoreline. Moon water bubbles to steam and we all rise. —b.p.d. 12/31/21 I do so very much like to read.
I do so very much indeed. Page turners, or weighted tomes. Myths, legends, paperbacks -- all offer me homes. Hide and be seen, true insight shared. Without trying too hard, one mustn't be scared. Blast open the spine, snuggle in close to the text. For you just never know, what might happen next. And as the author endears to the reader's flow, Each new chapter may bubble up and away we all go! Reeling and reimagining how the thickened plot turns out. It's our sensation, truly guiding us before the candle burns out. Voices carry down the paths we may never trace. Detailed caresses among characters with a familiar face. Knowing the intimacy and expansion of reading aloud. Magnifies storytelling's ancient art and wisdom shroud. Gather ye round, hold a book up to the light. Spirited writers and readers, onward, onward, take flight! --b.p.d. December 23, 2021 |
Brittany DelanyExpressing myself through poetry, song lyrics, musings, prose, playwriting, questions, spiritual learnings, journal entry shares, and storytelling. Archives
August 2022
Categories |