Posted in Life, Poem, Writing

Far Away

When it is far away

I am trapped inside an empty space

Where life demands I function

And pretend all is connected

And for a million days and a million dark nights

I wait

With sealed lips and a heart half full

Until it returns

 

 

Posted in blogging, Poem, Wordpress photo challenge, Writing

Opposites

As the mountain darkens with the dimming light of day the skeletons of the past emerge from behind the trees that cover it’s surface as black as night it hides yet it’s eyes are wide op…

Source: Opposites

Posted in Photography, Poem, Stories, Writing

Opposites

Photo 1-07-2016, 21 12 37

As the mountain darkens with the dimming light of day

the skeletons of the past emerge from behind the trees that cover it’s surface

as black as night it hides

yet it’s eyes are wide open.

 The fluffy crimson sky that floats freely above it’s apex however,

provides comfort inside fiercely beating hearts

by lifting ones eyes from the solidified deadened black,  up into the endless scarlet wonderland and beyond into the infinite blue.

~Nicole Martin

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Opposites

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Posted in Deep, Poem, Story, Writing

Me Today

image

Sometimes

 the only thing I want

is to bury myself within the quiet

and hide there

until the noise has passed

Posted in blogging, Daily muse, My wordpress, Poem, relaxation, Story, Wordpress prompts, Writing

Yawn

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‘I notice an impostor staring back at me from deep within the glass’

( YAWN )

WordPress Daily Prompt

Yawn

Author

Nicole Martin

….

My gaze is fixed on the coffee table.

I’m stuck here

and I’m not moving

this is where I stop.

Just me and the fine layer of dust that’s also comfortable here.

I notice an impostor staring back at me from deep within the glass

Who the hell are you?- I ask

They ignore me.

Disinterested, that’s how I’d describe them.

A timely blink forces me to refocus.

The face is gone and the dust is back.

That happened fast-I thought

I only wiped it the other day

A large speck of white catches my attention

It’s just sitting there, parked off on it’s own

making friends with the crooked glass corner

A toast crumb?

A feather?

A butterfly wing?

A diamond?

My eyes are burning,

-damn you

I close them.

and then I feel it.

A rapid accumulation of energy in my throat that wants to escape

It starts in my chest and explodes out the nearest exit-my mouth

This unwelcome yawn disturbs the edge of my stare

A tear escapes-I feel it on my cheek

“Wake up lady” My brain pleads

“NO WAY”-I reply

I dispense of the tear like a dirty old rag and re-position my solidified gaze to please myself

This time in the direction of the Kettle

Here Kettle, here little Kettle, kettle, kettle, kettle

I’m not getting up-I thought

Although I probably should

If only it would grow wings and fly to me

or sprout little robot legs and run

I’d kill for a cupppa

but my legs are chained to the couch

It’ll have to wait.

My burning eyes blink, and before I know what’s happening my head decides to lie down

I told it not to do that, but it didn’t listen

“It’s only for a minute” it reassures

-I relent

I can see the ceiling now

round and round and round it goes

purring with every revolution

it’s arms are also dusty

the fan did NOT get cleaned last week I remembered, unlike the table

I’ll have to do it another day

not today

I’m not moving.

My legs misbehave now and embark on making themselves comfortable.

-I should get up and do something useful.

They stretch themselves out like they own the place

‘The king has been overthrown’- I am no longer in control of the moment

They stretch their bones

they stretch their muscles

“but it’s only for a minute”-they inform me

“Ok. But just for a minute” I warn.

Round and round and round and round

gone.

Photo credit: DanieleCivello via Foter.com / CC BY-NC

Featured Image: Photo credit: origami_potato via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Artistry is about reflection not suicide

When youth leaves us

To my Boy