I engaged in an impromptu writing session, started by my mother. We were joined by many of my incredible family members. Several poems emerged.
I would like to share my creative products of an hour on Facebook with them. Along with the (family generated) prompts.
Sometimes my brain is so small
I want to crawl
Out of it.
I feel eternal.
Unconvinced by my skin,
Unconcerned by my lifetime.
Sleeping before embryo
I am a creature once created
Indestructible. Continue reading
I flinch into consciousness. My brain is scorched, permeated with a hippie Sun Goddess, dancing naked on the beach. Aditi, she is birthing my universe.
Meg Ryan sprite, Sharon Stone incubus, Helen of Troy. She is seductive in every feature, even her self- absorption.
She is a prism and the light, shattering the spectrum, spattering color violently in artistic frenzy. I am covered in a masterpiece to perplex conventional wisdom.
She shines like tin foil in a raccoon trap. She burns like sand in every direction without any shoes.
She is compelling, kindness rains on her, she cannot be denied any gift and in return she blesses me with her presence, a fleeting moment of attention. Her glance leaves me bare and raw. Her smile to cauterize the wound.
She never invites me into her heart, yet it is my home. My history is in the length of her hair, whipped about her by the wind, in her mouth when she laughs, brushed from her eyes impatiently.
She never really leaves me, but I seek her compulsively, like a philosopher after wisdom.
My bed without her is a playground with every piece of equipment broken, sharp, orange and pitted with corrosion.
My commitment was immediate and obvious, complete. My commitment bloomed into an orchid only Seuss could have created, a wild, passionate, lyrical, fantastic flower.
Then, she vanished, into the past. The most unreachable place. Colder and more distant than the arctic. That flower is seed to every other passion I have. None has every found such a fertile place to grow.
I fall heavily to unconsciousness. My brain scarred, infused with the romance and moonlight I painted over her image. She is my red stained goddess icon. My Venus artifact.
Doing dishes on a stool: self portrait
I wore white for a decade
I wore black for ten years
I wore nothing for a while
Then I bore a girl
I wore prints for a bit
Now, I wear blush and rose
Merlot tones layered with midnight
I wear melon under khaki
Lemon on my body under cream
Sunshine in my life
Color in my world
I was never the girl made of rainbows
But she is