Zephira draws up her mandolin. A few gentle strums of its strings lets loose the amora of fall leaves and vanilla. Her head lowers beyond sight. The air rushes by suddenly perishing dreams of Summer. Her words turn staccato like piano notes. I resist with all my might.
A distant cello joins in with her melody. The world bends to her. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll slip back to where I belong. The world is so small within the looking glass.
Fires dance in your eyes
My inner candle begins melting
Promises of possibilities flutter about
Whispers of thoughts
Things I long for versus need
Enticing moves stir images
“What ever your desire” falls to ears
No lips move, no sound travels
But still my ears are full
Gentle hands sweep through my dreams
Reality never holds trust of fantasy
Within the dreams I wander paths
Where no footsteps are needed
Interface is between two faces
Elegance replaces beauty
The moth grabs the flame
Mist of my dreams swirl
Spinning like a kaleidoscope
Am I looking back
Like the stats in telescope
Or forward in Crystal ball
Happy blue skies pave paths
Tall trees throw twisted shadows
Nothing is as it seems
Everything is exactly as it appears
Lines of sight tug gently
Filaments of thoughts resist
Delightful mess spills across fantasy
Which parts will I miss?
Which parts to cling to?
Time slides through hidden hourglass
Slowly I realize what never was
Has always been waiting with what was
I wantto take your breath away.
I watchyou move completely
My mind locked on every part
My eyes flash to keep up
Your body converts to road map
Some curves are far more dangerous
At least in my view from here
You’re an addiction wanting to hook me
I linger on thoughts of being emerged
I bask in her warmth. My mind holds those moments that are special because they are our moments. There is a certain calmness that stills my heart.
The night drifts by. Time is a ceiling fan counting by whoosh sounds. Light stays at bay.
My dreams morph. Subtly I’m drawn away. Her face warn and kind grows. Her smile looks more relaxed. I twist to better see whay keeps me whole.
The warmth returns. Strange white shiny walls curve up from below. I feel like am burning. Parts of me break free and float off. Her smile twists more profound.
Being someone cup of tea is not always good
I watch you drift
Each passage leads you further
You never look back
Currents toy with your ambition
Eddies await to swirl your direction
On shore, any hope floats past you
Your empty hands only reach from afar
Past the length of any arm
Tomorrow you will out out again
The tides await your efforts
Again I’ll watch to see if you return
We dance until the chord breaks
The waves drowned the sound
Until the horizon welcomes you
I’ll still be on the shore
Waiting to see where you’ll go
4. Ambedo ((n.) a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life.)
11. Eminent ((adj.) high in station, rank, or repute; prominent; distinguished: conspicuous, signal, or noteworthy: lofty; high: prominent; projecting; protruding.)
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem
The words can appear in an alternate form
Use the words in any order that you like.
Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle
My clouded mind crumbles. Tides of care take flight and dazzle my ambedo mood. Voracious blackberries take eminent roles. They misbehave in whispers leading me from my troubles.
“There’s a yak. The thing is huge, as tall as a windmill. I’m asking it about the used bookstore down the street. The one with the green exit doors. So this is where it gets weird….” Larry pauses to recollect the thought.
“Not weird at all. You fell into a MC Esther print. Did you take the upstairs to the basement or fire escape to the roof?” Penny hates the dream game.
“I’m talking to the yak and this hand appears behind him. It is closed like there’s something in the hand. The wrist flicks up and marbles fly everywhere!” Larry moves his hand to demonstrate. “Then this Viking goddess starts winding a old phonograph that plays a song about doing absurd things to achieve impossible things. Oh, the goddess has only a head and arms.”
“How do you know she was a Viking goddess? Maybe she was part of a dance troupe. Would a Viking goddess have a record player?” Penny knows this is the way it goes every time.
“You’re right. She would have done kind of stringed instrument… Wait, she’s a goddess. They live forever.” Larry stumbles on reason.
“Good, you figured it out. Don’t sleep again, please.” Penny answers “I have tried the absurd and haven’t accheived any impossible results.”
Written as part of a challenge details are available at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/04/writing-prompt-189-bonus/
I sail a black Sea
Stars burn as centuries
They hold the sky in place
I ride stone waves of ancient seas
My path among the darkness
New lights shine in the distance
Waiting to see them is painful
Faith tells me they glow like Sun drops
High above the Valley is my new world
I pass through portals of time
Time fails to notice me
My sea parts smoothly
Here at the future
I’m sinking in your quagmire
Pretending it means something
Pretense that it mattered
I falter in the act of hope
An act of solo solidarity
Solid ground gives after belief dies
Pillars of marble splinter to fill
When the glass has been taken
The Winoow is called a hole in the wall
My foundation was built on pixie dust
Dreams live only where hope and belief dance
The record player is quiet
The band has the day off
I strive to build a bridge
You’ve burnt away the forest
An empty field is what we share
The grass has been pastured
Stubble and rain of tears is left
The fragility of life is a measure
What we need and want
And what we do to keep it
The pixie dust has consumed me
Your quagmire turned quicksand