Full Circle

[(Awarded 1st Place) Great Grandmother by SFC Lance Widner – Division 1 (Active Duty Military) CC by 2.0]

The light weighs no more than seven pounds or one hundred,

fuses the two in joint weightlessness,

gifts a vision, transcendent,

reveals what was and is and a voice says, Come.

Question is not asked nor answer given though it hangs

on pillows and white cotton,

a wondering, hopeful question,

am I thus renewed

and the light blinks,

bats eyes in coy allusion,

it is not mine to tell

but lift, with me, this easy burden,

bring your child home.

Written for Mindlovemisery’s Photo Challenge #92 and Haddon Musings’ Senior Salon #3. For some reason, best known to my Kindle browser upgrade, I can’t copy and paste the links. I’ll do that when I fire up my laptop tomorrow – well, today, but I’m going to sleep now. Hope I wake! I hate an unfinished job.

Woke, worked, shopped, still doing, Merry Christmas, not wrapped yet but got the links updated. I call that a score. 😉

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Rescued

You struggled beneath the surface of unquiet moments

and I strove too,

shared your gasping breaths

of impossible release,

flowed with time

and tide

till saved,

at last,

in the drowning.

From The Pyre

fuelled passivity

binds the broken dreams,

despoiled wonderland

screened with silent screams.

shifting visions,

inviolate by turns

corrupted carcasses

pyrotechnic burns.

into the west they sail,

fey folk flock like fauns,

unseeing eyes

perceive departing forms.

pink horizon beckons

from pallid fetid flesh,

embark with dreamers to

new soul journey quest.

emblazoned pendant flies

at mast of glory height,

depicting hope at last

from earthbound endless fight.

work the firecrackers,

dazzle with display,

circus pomp or pride,

illusions of the day.

slumbered eyes may view,

through sulphur’s smoky plumes,

radiant new dawn

in ship’s departing spume.

where the fey folk fled,

in dreamers’ rested lands,

there all dreams abide

for restless, yearning hands.

catch the dreamers’ form,

weave the golden net,

where the magic lives

we dwell in unforget.

Valkyries, Vampires And Victims Of Vile Visions

Lay down, warriors, to demi-gods,

you are chosen.

Let virgins feed

all needs 

with meal and mead.

Valkyrie tapestry

depicts your future

while vampires

curse and urge

desire to bleed.

Victims of their visions,

you are welcome

in Valhalla’s halls

for dying

in the field.

Vile mastery,

treachery to living.

Lay down, now,

die,

display you yield.