Slowly rotating up and out, where fears are lobster traps
And nightmares haunt with sharpened teeth,
On sun-lit waters of crystal blue, the surprising shark attack.
The phone call,”Oh I’m sorry to inform…”
The realization it was all a lie, the deeper that you delved,
The understanding you were writing different books,
And his was being published, while yours was being shelved.
Up above the bloody surf where bodies float inert,
Feeling the lightness of leaving it all behind.
Now traps flung open, and sharks are turning into swans
And red tinged foam, is mirroring a glorious sunset.
I begin to rise away from what anything used to mean.
In the air of fresher winds, old wars are now forgotten and forgiven.
Trusting, a pirouette of graceful promise, higher than I thought I’d ever go…
August 20th 2013
I don’t know where you get the words from! The reader will always speculate that there is some particular experience behind what you write 🙂 but still it comes out so universal. Very particular images, that somehow touch something everyone knows… Spinning high over bloodied waters in which fears are lobster traps… Yes!
Thank you Dale, for leaving this very nice comment. I guess the poet draws from life, both past and present, and sometimes is the last to know what was the “real inspiration.” It could be something as mundane as a line from a movie, that could spark the whole process into action. Hoyt asks me this question too, and seriously I answer (with no false humility) I am not sure from where or why these words come. I am only grateful that they keep coming..* sends soothing strokes to her muse in appreciation.
I particularly like the positivity of this poem. It sounds like a very good day, to have been aware of all the horror but still able to lift away from it.
Hi Steve..it was an interesting process that brought me to that conclusion that day:) Yes, felt light and free..Thanks for stopping in…your comments are always appreciated.