To finally see the colours

 

Photograph from National Geographic

My life has often been about chaos
and destruction, a walk into dark alone.
It isn’t pleasant there;
the words I write often sound of black.

But when mindfulness awakes me,
I begin to write of colours and of peace.

Like green is the grass blowing in the wind.
Blue is Neptune spinning round the moon.
Orange is the orange that tastes so good.
Yellow is the sun that warms me to the core.
Red is the colour I could wear and adore.

To finally be able to see
is such a wondrous gift.
There is music in the world,
and rainbows -

sometimes inside of me.
by Louise

Written for Blognostics Colour Contatenation

Alone

When you’re alone
faces come out of the rain,
from the dark and from the train
which whistles like the wind
on the tracks of your pain,
startling the pigeons
feeding there,
the ones who watch
and never know your name,
because he was never you
or me. I believed the same,
trusted the gods who died
in shame. I opened my heart
to the choices I knew,
but it broke again
lost to the flames,
and once more from the
station, where I had
waited so long,
for him to sing
that beautiful song,
there I was alone.

by Louise

Written for Onestopoetry ~ Saturday Celebrations The Doors and poet Jim Morrison

A bit of ‘free-writing’ for you :) I kind of think that’s how the ‘Lizard King’ wrote his poetry. I wouldn’t try singing it though ;)

And the best lyrics ever? ‘I found an island in your arms, a country in your eyes’

Jangled notes

Jangled notes
still ring in my ears,
turning over
and upside down,
revealing dreams that squirm
in the complexity of the music

The Gift

Crystal skies of deepest blue
lift her soul with all that she is.
Just as wood
 is meant for burning,
so her heart
 is set on yearning,
full of
 possibilities, senses tangibly alive.
He learns the traits that
 mark her,
as together they
 entwine,
in the beginnings of a
 love affair.
For a moment,
 life is a fairy tale,
uncoated 
yet by summer dust
or rolling
 drops of rain.
She skips a beat

giggling in a pretty dress, 
holding a green balloon.
Her
 dreams get better
with each pulsing
 note
becoming a purer sound.





by Louise 

Written for the Onestoppoetry prompt

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