Time Passing

it’s been over 14 years,
of chasing my tail ‘round and ‘round,
simultaneously bored out of my mind,
and saturated with touch and sound

5,177 days
of being lonely but never alone,
of being physically and emotionally drained, 
while my brain atrophied, shriveled to none

124,248 hours,
full of ideas and personal revelation,
so many things I’ve needed to say,
but no one with which to have conversation

7,454,880 minutes,
of creative thoughts popping into my head,
but never enough time to write them, 
to see where they may have lead

447,292,800 seconds 
wondering if I’ve wasted too much time,
worrying about the little things, 
instead of experiencing joy in this heart of mine

-image via Pixabay

Stormy

Forehead against the drop-streaked glass, 
Palms resting on window pane,
Foggy breath exhales ghosts of past,
As eyes echo mother earth’s rain,
And, as concave divots mark time’s pass,
With each ricochet hope is gained,
For, thunder is but a catalyst,
And lightning nature’s metamorphosis  

-Image is Winter Rain, by Marta Bevacqua; written as part of dVerse Poet Pub’s meeting the bar, using the form of the ottava rima. Go check it out and jump in! 

The Wind

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I cannot control the wind
or it’s constant metamorphose,
I listen to the rustling of the leaves
and watch the tree tops sway,
I feel it’s force against my cheeks
as my heels dig into the ground

I fight achingly against each sudden surge
and lean in with all my might,
while it gainfully gusts
and steadily swirls
any way it chooses,
with no conscience, no regret

until I’m left squarely standing,
slightly swaying like the tops of trees,
I close my eyes, feet firmly planted,
listening to more than the leaves

I hear my inner voice, shouting,
‘I have not acquiesced’

for, I know,
I cannot control the wind,
nor can it control me

-Image credit rhads.deviantart.com