I left the curtains open for you
Just in case you decide to visit
If you ever decide you want to see how things are going,
I left the curtains open for you.
If you ever want to see how far I’ve come since we last spoke
I left the curtains open for you
The curtains are always open
But the window is locked.
And so is the door
I don’t want you to come back in
I didn’t want you to know you were welcome
The curtains are always open
Even though I doubt you’ll ever pass by the window.
The room is stripped of shape and shade,
Where colors blur, and contours fade.
No mirrors watch, no eyes critique,
As silence yields to what they seek.
The music breathes, a sudden tide,
A map that forms from deep inside.
The cello hums against the floor,
A heavy footstep at the door.
They step into the weightless air,
Unbound by sight, immune to stare.
The treble sparks, a silver spark,
That cuts a path across the dark.
They spin on rhythms felt, not seen,
The space between becomes a queen.
A tilt of chin, a sweeping hand,
They trace the contours of the land.
For sight is bound to wall and stone,
But movement claims the sky alone.
They do not miss the candle’s gleam,
Who dance inside the fabric’s seam.
I was hurrying by the spooky house when the door creaked open.
Hopin' it was just my imagination, I hesitated a moment too long
for suddenly a creepy voice from inside beckoned me to enter...
I froze when a waft of cold air hit me and I heard words of a song...
Come inside, and we'll have a bit of lunch and a nice spot of tea
I shook my head in total disbelief and told my feet to move along
but they seemed to have a will of their own and didn't listen to me
What am I to do to escape the siren's call? To her I don't belong.
Just then it was I heard a murder of crows, flying low overhead
Another omen that I never should have chosen to walk this way
But then one flew close enough to me, and this is what it said,
"Leave your shoes behind and run...You'll be dead if you stay,"
I gulped and gasped and managed to get my feet to obey
I could feel the pulse of heart beating double time in my chest
The crows kept circling above while darkness was filling the day
I'll not become the victim of the house and be laid to rest!
I tried to heal my open wounds
I always seem to feel
They've gone away
But the scars still remain
And the ones on my heart
Will never heal
They wear me down
Tear me apart
I grieve for my old self
When the only pain I felt was a scraped knee
I wish I was okay
But I never will be
So I pretend
And wonder when it will end
But I’ll be fine
I always am
But I keep trying to heal
To feel real
And maybe im not
open door to Oz
the wizard shuts door in face
left holding broomstick
The earth below fades to a distant haze,
As I ascend beyond the rush of days.
I catch the current, seamless, cool, and strong,
Where skyward rivers pull my path along.
I stretch my wings and tilt into the bend,
Where draft and motion effortlessly blend.
To ride the rushing wind is pure delight—
A boundless devotion to the gift of flight.
No friction drags, no gravity can hold,
As endless skies of sapphire blue unfold.
I love the freedom in this weightless stream,
Forever soaring high inside the dream.
Icy tufts, monochrome white
Descend beneath cloud cover
To meet the unexpected
Leap of children's tongues.
Hug me, praise me, like me
Slap me, curse me, kill me
Destroy me so thoroughly I won’t have room left for pride
Open me up until I have nothing left to hide
Just tell me it’s love
And I’ll be your pure little dove
unfinished sunlight
lingers on the open door~
a thought almost whole
Break open your alabaster box of worship,
Let precious praise rise, a fragrant ship.
Do not let the enemy steal your song,
Unlock your praise - it fits you strong.
Let praise be on your lips day and night,
The praise factor will disarm the fight.
Your songs lets go of yesterday’s sorrow,
And positions your heart for a brighter tomorrow.
Lift up those hands inscribed with victory,
Lift up your eyes to the Lord of ancestry.
Not through the scales of your situation’s mist,
But see Him rightly for who He is.
The Bread of Heaven, the Sovereign King,
In this season, greater fruitfulness will spring.
Be settled in His Word, press in and stay,
Let it be unto us according to His way.
a book left open on the table
holds its breath~
waiting for the reader
to return.
the page doesn’t complain
about being abandoned;
it simply keeps offering
what it has.
To the heart of the matter
windblown
by gusty amazements
a richness and complexity
fine and delicate
the beauty of verse
speech by ‘ear’
and reason tested
not in arrogance
but humility
and subtlety of form
Questions
alluring in novelty
foreshadowed
by conscious perception
Far and leisured
discerned by prosody
Placed : 3rd : Bitesize 149
Sponsor: Line Gautier
July 26
_______________________
quiet petaling garment breaks o p e n
a blackout mission from dewdrop
regurgitating quantum memories
incubated in cells vibrating
fertile decades, perhaps centuries march
into futuristic s p a c e •••
_____________________
Could l have been any dafter
Perhaps if we had first befriended
Making the effort always the graffter
But felt my freedoms she aprohened
What did l exspect some kind of bafda
As if she cared or simply pretended
At one time tears of joy and laughter
Though how that then quickly ended
How l longed for some happy after
But guess on her part never intended
What now seems like a closed chapter
As the relationship never trancended
Another abab wrote during pandemic
Artist: Henri Matisse
Painting: “Open Window Amalfi Coast Lemon Tree”
Canvas Art, Impasto Italian Seaside Town, Positano
Bright, vivid colors splash the Amalfi Coast
of a summer day in Positano, Italy.
Beneath the warm Italian sun, brushstrokes
capture the charm of both mountains and shore
dominated by the splashes of bright, golden fruit
that hangs from the fertile lemon tree.
Vision leads to a cluster of village homes
topped with terracotta roofs, contrasting
the pristine white siding, all nestled on the hill.
Heavy, textured strokes wake the sparkling sea-
the Mediterranean, dotted with sailboats
reflecting upon shimmering blues and greens.
And past a cobblestone path, which reflects
the vivid splashes of beaming, sunny colors,
boldly capture, with the Impasto technique,
suggested reflections on the water, pathway,
and building, bringing forth a feeling of reality
amid a dreamlike atmosphere of artistry.
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