Growing Pains - 55

There is treasure all around

but you blacken and turn inward.

You are an ink blot

on an illuminated manuscript

a burning nettle

in a field of wildflowers

a sliver

in the knuckle of a pink finger

Let me help you pack

your blanket and suitcase.

You no longer belong

or want to be here.


This is 55 words for Hedgewitch at Verse Escape.  It's regarding a dream I had two nights ago.

Lil

    Image from Tess Kincaid

Do not wake me

from my green dreams.

In them we are blameless

perfect, and the garden is ours.

 The marbled world, blue and new

grows through me

like the pit of a peach

I cling to,

fruit sweet and ripe

and dripping

with juices.

No, do not wake me

from my green dreams.

Here are 55 words (including title) for the toads at the Imaginary Garden about the picture from Magpie Tales.  

tenWord Winter

    Photo by Mary Bach

Tracking my grief

through winter woods

this all looks familiar

       ~ ~ ~

Time stops

in the winter temple

drifting at the door

       ~ ~ ~

We shiver

in the winter room

while dreaming of green

       ~ ~ ~

As dusk curls

around my shoulders

stars beckon me, "Come!"

These are ten word poems about winter, sort of.  The tenWord from is in response to Victoria's dVerse prompt.  The form itself is from another member, Brian, who (rightly) stated,     "...after ten words no one is listening anyway." The subject of winter is from Fireblossom at Real Garden with Imaginary Toads.  I'm not sure if I quite captured the human emotion she asked for but, oh well!

Dream

    The Sleeping Gypsy by Henri Rousseau

Pull another dream from your jar

my Bohemian love.

Are you naked?

Flying?  

Chased by wild animals?

Or lost in the empty spaces between the stars?

Check out The Mag, formerly Magpie Tales.

The Other

I am the mist

on a raw autumn night

obscuring your vision,

making the familiar strange.

I am the path

you didn’t choose

leading away from your home.

I am the breeze

murmuring in your ear

of adventures that never were.

I am the dream  

you almost remember

dissipating as you rise.

This is for G-man and his FF55.  Click on the link and check it out.

Drought

We drink dust through cracked lips

swallowing nosily.

Our skin hangs in loose folds,

dull, flaking,

bones ache, joints rub against one another

with soft, scraping sounds.

We stand lighting matches in the fire,

dreaming of rain.

For November PAD.

Waking

    Image from mlrayner.blogspot.com

A tender slice of dream

perches  on the surface of morning

before dissipating.

This is for IGRT and Grapeling's challenge to use words from his list.  I've used the words Tender, Slice, Perch and Surface.  There are many more though, so click on the link and check out the whole list.