#76 Butterfly's Wing (Musing)

I was temporarily astounded by

a butterfly’s wing

unpaired, singularly sharing

the car’s small area

wafting its way in

it was

yellow and dull

lost to its frail owner

who,

in the November sun

I was certain

was probably

grounded left somewhere

to suffer.

time seemed to slow down

as I watched this wing float

upwards then down 

then out the passenger’s side window

it was engulfed immediately

by other yellow players

coupled and cheerfully new

that flitter-fluttered in 

zig-zag patterns over

the green trees

pink and white oleander view

but I

was left pensive

somewhat disturbed

quite random this matter

but still 

it left me concerned

for somehow

it was a reminder

that wings whatever

for you that may be

are fragile in this life

and can be cut quite simply

random it was

but to a degree

I knew of some folks

who suffered in quite the same way

you see...

# SELAHSUNDAYSTORY

My Inspiration: A Butterfly's Broken Wing

 

© KohylahPiper 2016

#61 The Widow

courtesy patcegan.wordpress.com 

And I have loved you...

for more than half of my life;

you’ve had all my tears

and all my frustrations,

you’ve heard all of my joys, 

all my deepest contemplations.

You have lent your smile

to the faces of our children

you’ve gifted them

your wit and

uncanny rebellion against

the woes of their own generation.

You’ve led me to heights

also through the lowest of places

unseen by judging folk

who never had tried their own cases

and it was bearable...

because I did it all with your hand

holding mine

bound by these silver thread laces

that kept me out of the way of 

fate and her serendipitous plan...

Now I feel lost

since part of my destiny flew

with the wings

you were given

to release you into the only journey

we’d both

together

never knew; 

and

resting my hand on the pillow

where your head once lay

I earnestly pray also to be taken away

for the solemn sighs I echo

are close yet few between

and they precipitate into

shadows that seep into my dreams

where your colourful laughter

exceeds my reality’s hues

and I remain still;

yet still

loving 

only 

you.

  My Inspiration: Loved Ones

 

© KohylahPiper 2015

#53 The Spaces Where Drama Exists Part III

courtesy derekoverfield.deviantart.com

Your fate was foretold;

though it always takes time

one must wait

before shadows

dissipate

to make way for the light,

too many coatings beneath

those

hands clasped so tight

the only signal

that betrayed

the rumblings that

were mounting inside,

till

against the affliction

of your own will

your tongue rebelled;

admittedly,

Freudian speech

was never meant to

be stilled.

Praised be your

blessed lips!

that cut through this chase

of dynamite infiltrated feelings

barely covering ruination's face;

revelling in sharpened wit

its stabs, bleeding

deceit dry

tossing it over the curb

not caring what it said

even less what it heard

only willing it to slowly die.

Confidence seeped through

those

hands clasped so tight

unwilling to bring

them to the face

not partaking from its bounty

for fear of its indigestible lies.

Their only option

was to quiver

splaying tormented fingers wide

opening their space

of secrets and lies...

 

My Inspiration: The Human Condition

 

© KohylahPiper 2015

#48 The Spaces Where Drama Exists Part I

courtesy Local Guy

Your sentences

were laid straight

their letters erect in design

they formed

a concise response

and never left

the logic

to which they were confined.

Yet,

after leaving

the realms of thought

from which

neuronal movements were lit

they bounced  off your tongue

into a sealed wall

that deflected

the deciphering

of their value

to the one

who held in their grasp

the power of the

interpretative gift.

Not to be outdone,

you tried once again

this time,

you arranged your thought

structured, worded soldiers

and formed a new approach

another design.

There had to be a way

to get past this intrusive barrier

and with tactical calculations done

before one tenth of a millisecond

airy turbines spun off your tongue,

this jet of sentences was to be released

and you prepared your lips to carry her.

Reasonably guided to fly over an

unexplored terrain

you took an offensive position

faced in a

refreshingly different direction,

and with careful calm took aim.

But…alas

‘twas not to be

for another wall appeared

electrified steel,

latticed by thick wires

rebounding your hopeful intentions

just as you had feared.

And your words…

they disintegrated

into spiked teardrops of heat,

your letters dissipated before they

fell,

and mere nothingness was left

at your feet.

Learning to withstand this awkward hell

prompted

your silence to casually thrive

thus becoming an observer

in this battle between the

necessity to be relieved

of pride’s torture

and the compulsive need to be right.

In becoming mute

you found your voice,

as you discerned that it was not yourself

who was lost in a treacherous cage,

who was wounded by

some repressed shrapnel;

and though,

the bombs dropped indignantly overhead

and the missiles

continued to rage

you knew you couldn’t do a thing

and this epiphany was

frustratingly relaxing

even though it had come a bit late…

for it wasn’t your tone

or your words

it wasn’t your intent

or your gestures

it was all about defences

that had been engaged for so long

that its attacks

were its only means of

communication

and this was no fault of yours

but had everything to do with

decaying layers

of trust that held on

their insides iced

pockets of despair and anger,

rising tall from within

the mind

stacked high,

exasperation overflowing

till all that was left

were these steely, sealed walls

that formed

the space

of misunderstanding.

My Inspiration: The Human Condition

 

© KohylahPiper 2015