The dance

There is no hard line 

between sunset and night, 

the oranges and pinks 

give way to the inky 

blues and purples 

in a dance, a caress,

they embrace each other always

but we cannot 

see it from where we’re standing 

cannot see that 

we’re the ones spinning ever 

away and toward 

the light, that we are 

the dancer

dizzy with power and regret 

—

Poetry prompt: Transitions 

Unbounded

I don't like checking boxes
(I'm an "other")
or drawing inside the lines
(let me free!)

I don't like tucked sheets
(it's too constricting)
and "don't do ___ signs"
(now I want to)

But the older I get
(please don't ask)
the more I crave ritual
(but not routine)

Turns out, I like structure
(predictability not monotony)
and prompts and poetic forms
(forced, focused creativity)

Until I don't.

--
April PAD - Poetic Asides Day 14: form/anti-form

Communion

I worship at your
altar drunk
on our communion

---
April PAD Day 24 - faith

A little death

The death begins when
you simply
walk into the room

First, you steal my breath
Then my thoughts
and all my senses

The rigormortis
of anxious
anticipation

stiffens each muscle
as you walk
in my direction

You kiss my flushed cheek
and this world
all but disappears

---
April PAD Day 18 - life or death

Always tomorrow

"I love you in the future," he
says, believing his own words as
he kisses me on the forehead
like a real lover would


--

Creative Bloomings Micro Poetry - Another Short Japanese Form?

Runaway

A little girl came across our lawn
and knocked on our door. A pawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn. 
Flew. 

Just a baby, innocence foregone,
she lay on my couch and yawned,
"No more." She was gone
past the dawn
to

late the next morning. She yelled, "Come on!"
when she woke. A little fawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.
New.

--

Creative Bloomings - Triquint

Before I wake

Myworld ends
every single night

I
close my
eyes and die

to
a world
no more real

than
the one
in my dreams



April PAD #14 - Doomsday