A Fire in Bloom

Fireworks of suddenly ideas erupt

in explosive glows,

set off by universe

as it strikes its match.

I watch from the banks of my consciousness

as the scene of celebration unfolds.

It glitters across the waters of my contemplation.

No longer silent, but now sings.

 Like a mirror capturing a dance,

one I was too often afraid to partake in.

And so I sit on the shores of deliberation.

Toes in the waters of my decision making,

as a parade of choice marches on.

Eyes bound to the fiery spectacle

of the enlightened unknown

Blooming agains the sky.

And in my heart,

the rhythm of the revolutionary drums

beat

beat

beat.

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Ladies Night Personified

 

There, in the gentle glow of a waning moon,

sat a circle of friends.

Pockets of conversations were shared and passed around,

like a tantalizing meal of morsels and dishes

flavored and garnished with the familiar and new.

The winking wine danced with the candlelight

As each one sipped, savored and spoke

of their week’s trials and tribulations,

accompanied by laughs and jubilations.

Their voices filled the still night air

Adding to the symphony of nocturnal song.

They had done this for years now, masters in their own right.

Bending time, for it frequently stood still to watch

As they recaptured their joys, sorrows and memories lost.

Each word, a granule of sand

In the timeless hourglass of sisterhood.

She understood her. They understood me.

Whether in spoken or silenced words.

In the waning moonlight rays sat,

A circle of timelessness.

Laughter and tears joined them in discussion.

And all around, witnesses stood like stone to watch

Frozen and carved from admiration,

Wishing to join,

Share,

Learn,

From these moon washed beauties.

 

 

Other

Please check the box of which applies,

the one that captures you, or at least tries

Please pick your sex, race and role,

Or at least something close, and continue to scroll.

Which one applies closest to you?

White, black or brown, to name just a few.

Neither you say? Well then just relent.

For you do not fit our generic convent.

So why bother at all, an ‘other’ you’ll be.

You cannot be an I, you must fit the ‘we’.

Other they call me,

Another it is!

I wear my crown of ‘other’ like it’s my sole biz.

One of honor, of character and of right.

I reign over the land of misfits with entitled delight.

Our clan is of rebels, jests and of laughs.

Where we dabble in ‘other’ sorts of trickery and crafts.

King of others is who I am

Box-less.

Nameless.

Loud.

Shameless.

Mixed blood of two worlds,

Of East and of West.

Born to stand out, among the routine rest.

So please pick your liking in the boxes below,

Are you of character, or lacking of soul?

For neither you nor I are a box you see,

We are the ‘other’

The unorthodox,

The free.