I will meet life at a pointwhere I finally embracemyselflike a new acquaintancesans preconceived notionswithout a carefor public opinionor a legacy-yet the footprintswill speak louderthan those squeaky shoesI discarded in a previous version Quadrille Monday at dVerse
peacecarriesmuch turmoilbeneath benches-stories left behindthose who shed unseen skinsto carve new identitiesor leave the world on a voyageto unseen spaces - they shared somethingwith the trees and grass here -soul impressions What Do You See #351
stories written on mountain topsconcealed identities on rocksI meet sunsets, while the night waitsan evening like never before shoes squeak with collected secretsinking the sky with dark velvetI'll meet the light with new insightsa morning like never before W3 Prompt by Nancy Richy
opinionated missilesstrike the mirror hardcrack it opento un-mythlies there’s no hidden enemy-a bunch of mercurial storiesI was told about myselfstare back I just cross overInvisible thresholdsto find myselfand there’s no turning backever after Quadrille #250 - Mything Poems
It’s an honourThe stratosphere invitesto share its secrets-I’m the chosen one. I enjoy the peakPity lesser beings;-thenexpectations tug at the baseI need to act a certain way Devil’s Horns penetrate the psycheI’m not myself any more Quadrille #249
it’s a dog’s lifesitting bum-to-bumchasing their spot in the sunfighting over the same toyI don’t know whyWhile others vegetate in drawers it’s a dog’s lifepampered bratstell the worldnot knowingpets have the bestof all worlds Quadrille at dVerse
familiarity breedslike fat blooms on rancid chocolateA bite feels like a risk-that can spark warswith rumbling soundscausing a churnnever fully understoodyet feared-or pacify addiction relationshipsneither cosy nor repulsivehands pulled awaythen heldfor photo-ops Quadrille Monday at dVerse
youth smiled thro’ tightened expressionsof amnesia;made people wonderwhat the accident did to him. He had stopped digging into an unhappy pastevery nightand emerging years olderin the morning with no past to rememberhe farmed fresh memoriesevery day Quadrille #246
Does the crematorium rememberthe gist of ashesor values of bones floating in rivers?-remnants of a life lived with conviction-blessings, curses gathered by action The soul’s journeydoes not obliteratebitterness or loveleft behind. It’s the burden of impacted lives Quadrille #245
She walked awaywithout casting a glanceat the shattered glass-ruins of potentialdestroyed by disrespect-her bleeding feetmoved with firm stepsaligned to her spine the silence of a volcanoreverberated through the corridorsShe stepped outjust before the eruption Quadrille at dVerse
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