She’s confidant,
Just sure of herself
Is all, really. Her life
Requires radiance
So she stands tall,
legs strong, smile on.
Fingers crossed
Yet she knows,
She’s witnessed
Gorgeous already,
Now, no pressure remains.
The first few moments
Of Autumn breeze
Smell of campfires,
Coffee roast,
And cooling green.
Sharp edge of season’s cusp
Will heat the day,
Softly accede to dusk,
This: a velvet season;
Verdant weakening.
Cerulean, crisp from up above,
Pillowed clouds,
Hum of change, my love,
Protectively
Quiets the negative.
***
My friend, Shari, encouraged me to write from A to Z.
As many of you know, her wisdom, writing and compassion has been a blessing in my life. I began sharing my poetry here in 2013 and she, along with many others, has encouraged even my weakest of heart.
I believe this challenge is just what I need to push myself. I will try. I haven’t set any sort of timeline for this, but my intentions are to keep revealing as routinely as possible.
I also think it’s important to recognize that I haven’t weighted this challenge with any sort of expectation or intended outcome. I’m no longer interested in disappointment or how it makes me react. This I offer to you as it is, just as I’ve always tried to offer myself.
I write to feel. Allowing myself movement freely. A window into my soul. I’ve chosen to leave each poem as it was firstly written. Quite humbling to see where my mind sits to wait over time.
Thank you for supporting my A to Z effort.
Across an aquamarine pool
star fairies sparkle and glisten,
a scene of brillance, splediferously true,
found now shimmering upon my fair skin.
Secluded moments live here, too
dancing and guiding are the wisps
throughout the day, into twilight’s hues,
freckles, counted, by way of sun’s kiss, claim me.
Apollo offers to illuminate the view,
his hands sculpting radiance; bronze tones,
as summer temperatures offer proof,
his abilities masterful and, yes, epic.
Cicada’s persistence found romantic,
while evening shades finally filter through,
smell of honeysuckle murmurs to the wind,
hinting to how life could be once alone with you.
Northern winds, usually sonorous, prepare a mournful tune
wheeling sallow remains,
once bale,
across open fields,
just yesterday.
He slowly wakes her,
quiet, and the only one
as love’s color lays upon velvet petals, he hums.
His hands feel her beautiful,
remarkable, softly serene. His murmur, awakening her scent at dawn, leads her blossoming.
Helios, Titan god of her sun, stretches and whispers she is exquisite, mine and for now, done.
Affluence of purification
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