On the run
I'm always doing a million things at once, always on the go,
but if I see something interesting, I'll be sure to let you know.
Endings
My beautiful bird,
if I set you free
then you must fly away.
Don’t be tempted to land again—
rise up and be beautiful.
Shine in the sunlight
so I can let you go.
(Source: blindrapture.blogspot.com.au)
Blind Rapture: Hand (2004)
Just read it, okay?
Calm (2004)
To love without question
And to feel with no regret
Is the sweetest taste of life.
It’s been quiet today,
So quiet.
No thoughts have rushed in
To confuse me
And cloud what I know to be true.
The facts have rested,
Settled in,
And I have grown accustomed to their presence.
The pain is but a whisper,
Drowned out by the rapturous cries of life.
This is how it feels
To be free.
(Source: blindrapture.blogspot.com.au)
Blind Rapture: Believe (2004)
Just in case you were starting to think everything I write is dark.
Blind Rapture: Me
Why would someone wait another five and a half months after writing this? Perhaps…to learn? After all, we writers need some source material.
Blind Rapture: Not Love, Just Sick
A poem I wrote before entering into a narcissistic/co-dependent relationship. Only I didn’t realise that’s what it was at the time…or so I thought, until I read this.
Burning
she’s a flame that’s burning bright
that every night
you try to fight
to crush her down to ashes and coals
but she’ll keep burning on and on
yeah she’ll be alright
she’s a flame that’s spreading fast
let her past
she’s made to last
here, then gone, she’s moving on
you put her down but she’s not out
no she’ll keep burning on and on
yeah, she’ll be alright
storms may blow in
seas may rise
her glowing embers spark alight
if rain and snow can’t put her out
why’d you even try?
why’d you even try?
don’t you know
she’ll keep burning on and on
yeah, she’ll be alright
(Source: blindrapture.blogspot.com.au)
Karen
I was up late and not really sleepy, so I decided to write a little something for Trifextra: Week Fifty-Two. Click the title of this post to read it. Or click the Trifextra link and find me in the list, if you can.
Whatever happened to the mystery?
Once upon a time, words were mysterious as it was deemed they should be. They lingered longer, invoking a magical languor that tied us to the pages we slowly turned. They spewed forth and spattered over us, filling all the spaces. They always said something, but it wasn’t always what we heard. Sometimes the words shape-shifted in the aether and became new beasts in our minds. But now the masses beg for plain-talk, forgetting the art of expression; the mystery is gone.
(Source: blindrapture.blogspot.com.au)
William Harris: The HyperPoem Project
When Harris created these works, he was in his early eighties. Rock on, old dude. I love your work, and I hope you are resting in peace.
Before My Time
Granny told me…
June Shenfield Poetry Award 2012
Yep, that’s my name—second place. I even got prize money.
There’s a little typo in the version they’ve posted, though. The seventh line should read ‘It does not find me wanting.’
After checking my original entry form again (just in case I’d done something terrible and mistyped my own poem), I asked the organisers to correct this for me.
