A song for the swan - #NaPoWriMo poem 21

 

When are we serenading the swans?

Letting our songs blend with the air.

When are we feeding the doves

with the soulful hearts we hold dear?

When are we singing to the birds?

Those loveable rogues of the sky.

When do we sit in the fields and

feel the summertime highs?

Oh, when do we let ourselves

open our eyes

and see the wonder

that soars in our life?

 

When do we croon

our tunes to the moon?

Letting them mix

with her luna melody.

When do we lay

in harmony under her glorious glow?

When do we watch

as the sky puts on a show, and

where do the songs go

when we let them

leave our throats?

 

When will the bluebirds sing for us?

When will the sky open up and share its love?

When will the days fill with light?

And where will we walk

on those lustrous nights?

Wherever we are, whenever this is,

I’ll always sing along with the sunshine kiss.

I’ll always sit in awe of the moon,

and I’ll love every call of the wild

as the animals sing their tunes.

Something wrong in the echoes - napowrimo poem 20

 

There is something

wrong in the echoes,

they move in like song,

a vinyl skipping the grooves.

Scratching itchy sound.

You can feel it on your tongue

like the fizz of electricity

before an almighty storm.

 

There is something wrong.

 

My head is fuzzy,

Fizzy, I’m standing on the spot,

but the world is spinning too fast,

making me dizzy.

I feel I’m falling into a pit,

fiery ashes rising up from it.

It’s all gone wrong. Somewhere.

I can feel it in the air,

in the warping atmosphere.

There once was peace,

now the peace has gone.

 

There is something very wrong.

It is drumming in my head,

a tension headache, rumbling.

Something is scraping the strings,

something is coming.

It’s out there in the darkness

echoing like a violin, screeching

like a cat. It is piercing the air,

strangled squawks, until they snap.

A clap of thunder cracks the night.

Are we under attack?

 

Something is so very wrong.

 

Menacing laughter under the echoed dawn.

The call of the void, the endless discord.

The hum is back, restored. To pull apart

every strand of sense, to rip at the heart

of our self-defence, to leave us whelping

and shamed, in suspense at what it plans

to do in our names. The hum is back

fired up to attack, the sound

at the heart of the universe, weeps,

as the tensions stack. Aching frames

start to feel the drain,

and down comes the rain.

The hum is back, ready to inflict pain.

Starship sleep

 

I feel my eyelids droop

like clouds swooping down

over my eyes, as my breathing

relaxes into deep rhythmic sounds.

I feel my body become one

with the mattress. Warping

itself to hold me tightly.

Melding itself around me,

like a cocoon.

Duvet gently brushing exposed skin.

The breath of cool wind swooning in

from the slight opening of the window.

 

And if I sleep maybe

I’ll wake up beautiful.

Maybe I’ll feel more able

to face the day.

And if I just let the sky

combust into dreams

maybe I won’t feel so useless.

 

And I feel weightless,

like I’m floating in zero gravity.

A starship

soaring through

the space waves.

Me, the captain

scouring the universe

for new places to see.

 

I let myself drift,

like I’m on a spacewalk

into the black abyss.

The void, the emptiness.

But it is not scary.

It is peaceful,

with an aura of bliss.

 

And I’m sinking deeper.

I feel every muscle

sever their connection to the brain.

No pain, no feeling,

just weightless breathing.

Sleeping.

And I’m dreaming.

Dreaming of stories yet to be.

I’m dreaming of evergreen.

A walk in the lush foliage.

A kiss beside the bridge over the stream

in the forest in some unseen memory.

And I’m at peace.

My heart beats a steady rhythm,

my feet are not twitching.

My breathing is deep.

And I’m floating on moments

I so wish to be.