never call the kettle black
it shines inside and out
needs a polish now and then
perspective insight and action
miracles and blessings happen
when the time is right
and the privilege is granted
therefore I dived into the cauldron
a baptism of fire so to feel
and the magic potion sizzled
cold blisters of angst and resentments
vanished meta-morphed into the light
an inventory thorough cleaning
of the house that is my Self
a ruin of sorts it had been
rubble carnage wreckage
and I could not choose
the colour of my rescue boat
the size or model of the life preserver
it would not have done to plaster over
the cracks in the pot
I could no longer attribute fault
reason or blame to others
it had to become an inside job instead
an act of desperation and gift of recovery
no one pushed me when I took the plunge
I forgave yet did not ask for forgiveness
became able to love and allow to be loved
today I swim with hot passion once more
accept the good with the bad
found peace and moments of serenity
enjoy enchantment and gratitude
no witch craft at all
but a fairy tale story
narrated by a cauldron
of magical proportions
Writing into the night,
attempting to fill voids
of an empty life and
plaster over the pain.
Words offer false hope,
daylight, harsh truth.
What would i ask my soul
What words would plaster over cracks and cuts
that binds it together
Where can i find it
for when i look inside
echoes of my sight rebound
And if it could be found
would it turn around
Ignore my pleadings
to be healed
Soulless creature
forced to watch
with empty jealous eyes
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.