Enchanted, or disillusioned world
Where magic is the weakness
And all logic becomes illogical.
No one is the hero, but you
And all the world remains
Because only you can find
The good within it.
No one can tell you how to slay
The dragon’s fierceness
By living each day
In it’s terrorizing horror.
No, the world’s magic is
Not the magic in fairytales
Which, if anyone noticed,
Are nothing more than horror tales.
The world is no fantasy but
A reality that has warped itself
Into an illogical kind of magic
That only you can face.
The question then that all
Must take turns to accept is
Whether you’ll face it with goodness
Or face it with a villainy.
Note 1: Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more.
Twist: Make today’s post the first in a three-post series.
Note 2: originally going to write something sad but someone made my day so ah…I’ll figure something out.
Sometimes our mind waves within the daze of days
The hurt, the pain comes and goes when it pleases
Leaving behind a forsaken being to gather the pieces.
The lost pieces of hope that seem to fade
When the world is more cruel than smiling.
I am not sure where I go sometimes
I feel like I am on the side of the dead.
Invisible in a land beyond the light
Where no one can reach me and I
Cannot reach them.
No, the light seems faint but it must be there,
There must be a small bit of hope somewhere.
But where is this hope if it’s hidden around
Or where can I find the precious days
That seem gone from my life?
It looks bleak, but maybe….
Note: If you could zoom through space in the speed of light, what place would you go to right now?
The roar of the ocean as it crashed onto the gray beach
With shells so different from my home.
The magic of the town’s colored homes
Popped up like colorful flowers in a row.
Sligo, a place that felt like nostalgia
As if I had already been there.
When we left it to return home I knew
Then that someday I would have to return.
For the home was were my poet’s soul
Remind, sitting next to Yeats’ grave.
The wildlife that bloomed in the summer
That ended so quickly the day we left.
It was cold, but it was nice
And it allowed us to explore the world.
The world of Sligo was a passionate one
Where if you stopped for a second you’d have fun!
Ah, what I wouldn’t give to return to that place
I would enjoy it a lot longer than I did back then.
Relish in the beauty and the fun that we had
When we were in Sligo, Ireland.
Clouds gently stroll by
Circling the earth’s atmosphere
Like puffy pillows.
In the yard, grass grows
Shooting up in their green hue
Sweetly sings the bird
A prestigious cardinal
Nobly it stands.
In the breeze of the Summer’s end
Autumn wind bursts forth in bitterness
Causing the world to wither in a state
Of perpetual dismay.
Or so the season would like to think
As it tries to turn into the cold of Winter
But with a warm blanket
And a cup of tea by my side
I can feel the warmth run
Thorough me as I read by the window
Watching the world change.
The reds, the oranges, the browns
Are all signs of Autumn’s coming
They are not dismal colors or hues
But a shade of knowing that
Soon a frosty snow coated world
Will come when all the leaves have fallen.