LONGING
I long to return where my heart’s song began
The quaint city by the ocean I once knew so well
How I long to play along her sugar white shore
Swim in her ocean as deep and as blue as my longing
I long to jump up and down amidst her ocean floor with it’s scattered sea shells that tumble and stumble, all the while, tickling the tips of my toes
Crash about in her ocean waves as if I were a discarded cork, bobbing freely, just me…
©2011 Angela C. Soelzer Ragosa
photo: Getty Images
No excuse
by Samantha Reynolds
Don’t tell me
you are not inspired.
That is no excuse.
Creativity doesn’t land;
it is earned.
So wrench your eyelids open
cackle at the keyboard
stomp your feet
You talk to your loved ones
at night. It is a kind of modernism:
color sees into you, thinks a warm
path, a tint of meaning brought
from how you feel. Then, you are double:
Birth
You entered screaming, anointed
with blood and vernix—
our tempestuous goddess,
weighed, cleaned, rubbed, recorded
by your priestess-nurses.
When I held you in my hands,
I was the small one.
Hello, lovely disguise. Come swing short and loose
around my thighs. Cowl my neckline, let my throat
rise out of your yellow folds like a virgin.
Cup my shoulders; cling to my breasts so closely
that my skin accepts you, sister, knit and pieced
by strangers’ hands, but closer to my body
― Sylvia Plath
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
by Chaka Sichangi Stubborn, So much to teach you,
Unsown Seed
Like your eyes will you have the traits of your father?
Visionary,
Destined a legend will you be like my father?
Maya’s phenomenal, a genius like your grand-mother,
I can’t help but wonder…..
What will be your life’s path…my child?
So much to learn from you,
So much to tell you but not enough time for the telling,
All my love to give yet not enough for the showing,
See…I can’t help but wonder…
Will I be the ‘world’s greatest dad’?
Marked by the Muse
“Standing on the bare ground,–my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space,–all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
