My dear friends, I owe you a thousand
apologies and a thousand times more. I have been completely side-tracked by
other activities of this life we live. Between writing motoring articles, work
and study etc, I have neglected you, my dear readers. But I return! I promise
you a post of the story this blog was intended to drive. This shall be up on
Tuesday. I need to give time to my beautiful friend with the red pen to shout
at me about the lack of material coming her way.
Now, I have sat on this poem for a while
and I have finally decided to set it free and see it draw breath on it’s own.
Wait, was that a birth metaphor? Ok, now
that I have weirded (not a real word, but gets the job done) myself out, let me
get this up before more strange things come out of my mouth.
Enough blah blah blah from me. Here is the
poem.
Grace
Words written. Words spoken.
Misdirection begotten.
A fade to something familiar.
Memories that keep anchor.
Sounds heard. Sounds made.
Chittering of mouths at play.
Mirth-filled smiles fingered.
Addiction’s calling. Whispered.
Eyes see, Illusions caress.
Transfixed in shimmering smoke.
Embroided scents that choke.
Undulating emotions crash. Seek.
See what sets. Sent to shine.
Speak. Hear. See.
Senses that speak of mine.
That felt interesting… Well? What are your
thoughts? Feedback, slurs and items to throw? The Shining will be updated next
week. And, as my Christmas gift, a bit of the other stories in my archives.
Take care of yourselves till next time.
Nic. Out.
