Abracadabra

     Image from magictobuy.com

I create what I speak.

The word made

flesh

and stone,

water and bone,

hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium

and so on…

the most elemental magic.

Before time began

it issued forth from the source

sent out over the abyss,

into the darkness

before there was darkness.

Then into the dark

a spark was spoke:

Abracadabra!

This week I learned Abracadabra, translated literally means, "I create what I speak."  I had a little fun playing around with this for G-man's FF55.  Click on the link and check it out.

And Then November

I don’t see you come

but I feel your cold breath

on my back.

Your gaze stoops my shoulders

and I wither

inside,

curling in

around the dark

like the petals of a flower.

A dozen shades

of brown and grey

fill my eyes.

A killing frost is coming;

I must prepare the ground.

This is for G-man and his FF55.  I missed you all the last couple weeks! 

And this is also for d'Verse where Claudia wants us to write about color, and for  Writers' Digest PAD (writing prompts for November's poem a day challenge).  Today's challenge was "appear" and I tried to do it without using the word itself.

After Dark

    Image by Daniel Murtagh

In the long winter nights

when time eclipses thought

and dreams bleed into waking

I question the turning of the stars.

Which of them is already dead,

how much longer until 

their lights go out, 

and how will I navigate

through the treacherous dark?

Spooned into the hollow of your arms

I count on your tenderness.

The image above was provided long ago by Tess Kincaid as a prompt for The Mag.  I never managed to write anything at the time, but the image haunted me until I recently paired it with something I wrote for G-man's FF55.  Check out both of these links for some wonderful poetry.

Dark December

In her holy dance

Earth turns away,

            from light

            from warmth

            from life

With each inspiration

of cold, sharp air

lungs ache

Visible breath,

ghost at the lips,

dissipates

leaving jewels of condensation

on all it touches

The austere landscape

is covered by

a night sky

of extravagant beauty,                       

hung with pulsing diamonds

As we run

tears freeze in our eyes

cold burns our ears

we taste darkness;

            no light

            no warmth

            no life

Yet this is the dark of hope-

the cold that sets the bulbs- 

the death that brings resurrection   

What are we running from?

Grace surrounds us.


This is a poem I wrote some time ago, which I am linking to Poets United for their prompt Winter.  Check out their site here: PU Thursday Think Tank I highly recommend it!