poetry

stand off

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 22 November 2010

Total views, at 2 May 2016:

Stand Off? A lament on distance and separation

Two figures standing face to face but separate.
A drift of dandelion seeds stirring in the space between us.
The light here is pale green diffused by a thick canopy of summer leaves.
Where to go from here?
There are no boundaries, no limits
to the many escape routes –
But I don’t want to escape.
Who is the hunter, the hunted?
The roles seem fluid, malleable, transferrable.
The distance is short, but seems eternal.
Cannot move closer:
The fear is overwhelming.
And were I to run, would you chase me?
If I turned and fled to the cover of the forest
Would you follow me?
Or would you abandon me to the elements?

 

My swamp

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

As I wrote on the original piece here, swamps are a powerful symbol or archetype for me, and a theme to which I continually return… as long-time readers and followers of my blogs and art sites will know.

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 24 November 2010

Total views, at 2 May 2016: 277

My Swamp; Or, a moment of paranoia

It’s lonely here in the swamp.
Only frogs and waterbirds for company
and it’s not like they can talk with me.
What does a duck think about, anyway?
I could stand in the murky depths all day
until my skin is stained with dirt.
Still it seems to me that they’re better company than humans.
People are hurtful, painful, messy.
Full of horrors.
They plot the many ways they will hurt me.
Here among the snakes and fish and mosquitoes,
the creatures, they do not plot and plan and invent ways of evil.
They exist, they act, they behave according to their ways,
but they are not man that they should seek to harm or destroy.
And so I cloister myself in nature’s monastery,
in the solemn solitude and darkness of the waters and the trees
and meditate on that which drove me here.

 

convincing myself I can wait

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 13 December 2010

Total views, at 2 May 2016: 274

Convincing Myself: I Can Wait

In the long lonely months of solitude
In the broken scattered sunlight breaking through the tangled dead canopy
Watching the years fade into dim memory with no shift in the routine
I must wait.

If I try to claw my path through the tangled woods
If I try to escape the confinement here
Where would I go, I could not return to you, I would only destroy you.
I must bide my time.

Were there a chance to meet you here
When in meeting I could stand my ground and look you in the eye
And no longer desire to devour you
Then I would seek you out and find you.

I must wait.

If I am here for all eternity awaiting a time when we will be made new
And there will be no divisions, no secrets, no barriers
Then that is what I must do.
The isolation hurts
but it is the only choice.

I will wait. I can wait.
I will hide here for as long as it takes.
I must wait.

 

I have something of a hate relationship with love

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 10 April 2011

Total views, at 2 May 2016: 328

Love: I was not made for this

In the harsh light of day, as the sun chases away the outlandish fictions of my heart
(those cruel tormentors that whisper hopeful lies)
I return to the clarity of reason.

Those long nights lost whilst staring at the ceiling with a wandering mind,
Or the quietly joyful hope wondering what might be:
They were mere distractions.

I am not, and cannot be, the creature of beauty and the object of desire that I wish to be.
Something as wild and exciting, as passionate and alive as love, is not meant for me.
And it can never be; I was not made for this.

It seems I was made for solitude: to be buried in the earth, and made one with soil and silence.
To be hidden from the eyes of the world lest my visage offends them.
I am a spirit that longs to be alive, trapped in imperfect flesh.

Love: it shuns me, perceiving my faults and inadequacies.
Love moves on, reserving its passions for the beautiful and the deserving.
Love tells me that I was not made for this.

 

monster

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

As I wrote on the description for the original post: before anyone overreacts, this is imaginary. I have more than enough people in my real life who mistake my creative writing for being self-disclosing hard news journalistic reporting (in their defense I *did* minor in journalism… so I guess I can see where the confusion arises… maybe).

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 14 April 2011

Total views, at 2 May 2016: 285

 

Monster

the blood running down my hands and arms reminds me
that I am only one choice away from becoming a monster