#NaPoWriMo18: Day 5, Foot loose


Image from Great Inspire, for the Day 5 prompt, only partially fulfilled.

Come let us dance
our discordant thoughts
to calmness, joined by the rhythm
of our joyful hearts,
and a song welling up
from deep within.

Like a bird
loosed from the tenuous
grasp of gravity’s hold,
let us float away.
With the spring of defiant
Freedom in our steps.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 4, What It Is

For the Day 4 Prompt, a challenge to describe an abstraction with concrete nouns. Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash

What it is is something smouldering
A tiny reed, slowly taking flame
That perchance with time might
Burst into a raging flame

What it is is a call and response
A place remembered and returned to
In a season of despair

In its light one sees
the self in all its glory
warts and all,
and learns the painful truth
that one is human too

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 3, Name Dropping


For the Day 3 prompt, A list poem of band names. I fear my choices betray my age (and my penchant for Christian Contemporary Music). Photo by frankie cordoba on Unsplash.

Six Pence None The Richer
for you corrodes my conformity
into discordant notes.

On Black Streets,
six degrees north of Building 429
a Rush Of Fools Switches foot
and stops to breathe again.

DC Talks to the Newsboys
Ignoring Caedmon’s Call
Until the Third Day
when the Second Chapter Of Acts
is unleashed.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 2, Home

Snowed in, somewhat. For the Day 2 prompt.

I ache
in the winter when it rains.
When the wind, like the fingers
of a malevolent one probe beneath.

Deep down
in a place sometimes lost
where memories once lived,
lies the linger of disquiet.For forgetting.

Some days
the smell of fresh wood wafts in,
borne as though on wings of the wind.
Then, these bones – aching in the cold – rejoice.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 1, Begin Again


Off prompt for Day 1, Photo by Francesco Gallarotti on Unsplash

Let us begin again
at dawn. With the stirring songs
of the Skylarks ringing in our ears,
the dappled light of the rising sun,
smell of moist earth and the distant lap
of a gentle wave calling us.
In the shadows of the stations,
along this winding tortuous path
we have climbed this mount,
where like a seed once dead
is reborn, we arise again.