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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1481190
Rated: 13+ · Other · Relationship · #1481190
For the Inspirations Contest, for now, properly punctuated and capitalized
Seven Inspirational poems


Gently mix my emotions,
a pinch of pepper,
a drop of whiskey,
toss in an olive branch
sprinkle a dozen golden tears
to remember the past and its solitude.
Softly stir in the last ingredient —
a large dose love’s generosity —
but declare nothing, never even whisper the words,
for to tempt fate… is to risk an overflowing cup.
Answer my heartbeat
with only a chaste kiss;
let the fantasy tender my dreams.
Bake for a lifetime
in the warm ovens of hope.


today’s recipe
[2008.4.10…a]
Prompt 1: Softly stir





She lies immobile on pristine white sheets
death would visit her now, claiming his rights,
but her ancestors know that moment is far away.
She waits for your voice, the sweetness of flutes
trying not to trust the angels,
not wanting to exchange
the glaring artificial light
for those clear rays of solace
that death promises its would-be lovers.
No sun, no candles, nor the blue certitude
found in your eyes can sway her resolve;
did she, like those before her,
ever believe, truly, in paradise?


her dream
[2008.4.10…b]
Prompt 2: Artificial light





What are the secrets I cannot tell you?
Is this silence your wish?
Why do we never speak of love,
canalizing so much energy
towards its fickleness
and the dismay we feel
when loneliness grips
our lives in a whirlwind
and slowly bleeds us to death?
We have forgotten empathy.
Sadness reigns
during the long winter nights.
When will someone reach out
and ignite my life,
burning away this solitude?
Ingrained in the depths of my soul
is a seed of rotting bitterness I deeply know.
The blossoms wait only for love…


questions and secrets
[2008.4.10…g]
Prompt 3: I deeply know





I know not the scent of roses,
yet I remember the delicate perfume of your skin,
the rich sound of your voice,
the deep sincere blue of your eyes,
the velvet caress of your fingertips searching for truth.
These things, placed in the vase of my memory,
have given me the peace to bear all of my pain.
That which I have caused you
is my greatest suffering.
In my dreams, this sweet bouquet never fades;
through the reality of my waking hours, the water evaporates
baking your emotions in the desert sun…
I cannot stop you from wilting;
I fear you will never run free.


the sweetest bouquet
[2008.4.10…c]
Prompt 4: Sweetest bouquet





I am drowning in my emotions,
they swell like burning waves on a raging sea
until I am engulfed by their passiveness.
In this bleakness, I can only swim,
endlessly, one stroke after another,
a lifetime of miles, during years
that have brought wrinkles,
and I pray
that one day a beach of warm white sand
will grace the horizon of my life
bringing me to a place of calm
where I may lie and rest, at last,
in the sunlight
where hope can be born.


and I swim the raging seas
[2008.4.10…f]
Prompt 5: Swim the raging sea





Today I have lost my soul
in the velvet backdrop of yesterday
enveloped in the bittersweet pain
that calls itself my twin.
Yet there is a softness
buried deep in my heaving chest,
in its quietly familiar dark brooding.
I reach out, daring to touch
the thorny emptiness
that has overgrown in my heart.


the velvet backdrop of my soul
[2008.4.10…d]
Prompt 6: Velvet backdrop of my soul





In the fresh winter air
I hang my clothes to dry. I am naked
and the old rope line is frayed now.
I have spent a lifetime washing and drying these garments
transforming them from the familiar to the invisible
sorting the useful from the useless
altering the cloth borrowed from your aching soul
to pamper the deepest secret places of my own life.

These clothes are not my own –
you have lent them to me indefinitely –
how can I tell you that I have outgrown them?
Their colors have faded
I seek newness to hide my nakedness.
The changing seasons have used them well.
One day soon, my soul intends to fly free
in the wind billowing on the clothesline of my emotions.
Where will the clouds send my eager desire to travel ?
What visions of solitude will I find on the horizon?


I am not an Emperor
[2008.4.10…e]
Prompt 7: Billowing on the clothesline

© Copyright 2008 alfred booth, wanbli ska (troubadour at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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