Christine Phillips Poet Narrative

Mixed passion

There is silence around and not one complainer could be found. Something must have passed through the street that causes the people to weep. It wasn’t a monster on the beach, or the Spanish bull running down the street. The morning was fair and cool breeze was blowing everywhere, but tension was still in the air and there was solitude everywhere.

 It felt as if something had left the town and the universe could not be found. The spirit of the beast that used to roam the street was finally at peace and had quietly left the town and the dogs were not seen roaming around.

Something must have passed through the town and left a shocking wave floating in the air; it was sudden and unpredictable with so much to unravel. Oh, mighty one of the skies, it is the omnipresence on which the people rely, you have given the strength to move about, when there is no voice to shout. When nature is at work you can discern what is digging up the dirt.  

The pleasure of time is baked in the coal mine and agony in the street robs me of my sleep.  I listen to my inner voice, and it gives me the courage to walk among the trees and reminisces with the breeze. Some reckoning must be going on as the silence intensifies with the breeze; the temperature suddenly changed and I find myself sprinting on to the field, and the silence was broken.

Cars start pouring up and down the street, and pedestrians walking briskly on their feet, the town comes alive and the marketplaces open wide, and I could hear them buying and selling while the traders were blowing horns. 

The crowd starts pouring in and the tempest began to sing; the liquor flows in the street and the sun glows on my feet. The temperature felt high and there was not a single rain cloud dwindling in the sky, but my adrenalin was running high. The hangover had passed and the people emerged from the dark and tone down the heat; finally, the vetting was finally complete.

Follow me to the ring and listen to the hummingbird sing, follow me to the ring and examine the field and your body will yield. There are four corners and there is distance between each of them, there are lines running along and manuscript for you to sing. The line is what you see but the measurement is far from thee. It like the fruit running on the vine and it has no distance in time; you have to curve it and sustain it.

There is passion in the sun, and you will know which direct to run. The feet are lighter without shoes, so learn to use your feet without putting pressure on your heels. There is mixes passion in the street so meet at two to try on this brand-new pair of “shoes”.

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