On this alter to say I do

My body walks up to yours, your sweet shiny smile welcoming me to our forever
The priest coughs into the mic, we stop staring at each other to look at him.

Oh lover, we are here and I cannot believe it.

Before we stand here to swear to God and man, expressing our undying love, there were days our love withered from the drought of affection
We were unable to love, our souls were unreceptive and I cried on those days, never imagining they would pass.

Oh lover, did you know we will get here?

Those days our emotions were the only things we saw. Days we let our pride go first before our heart desires.
Today we stand before each other- and this priest who is asking the congregation if anyone opposes our union.

Oh, lover, my heart flutters sweetly

We dance and jump the broom to honour your tradition
Only days ago, I’d danced around my father’s compound, walking in the midst of the guests
I’d sat on your lap and we drank wine from a cup, honouring mine.

Oh lover, I am glad to walk this path with you

On this alter I say I do, I walk back to our past, I am glad at our future, and my heart is full of joy.

Hour 13 image prompt

Stripes

Make my eyes

Hurt so much

Stripes

Change the lanes

From roads

To crosswalks

And I

Wear striped pants

That hurt my eyes

As I cross

Striped streets

With my eyes closed

A horizontal crosswalk black and white striped being crossed by a pair of legs in vertical white and black stripes

Hour Twelve: Closeted Clutterer

Open, close, open

white panels blending in a white-walled chamber–

Close, open, close

hidden disarray, a mind, a mess, a material amassment–

open, open, open

white poly-blend shirt, patterned harem pants–

close, close, close

move along, all clear, nothing to see here.

 

What is love if it aint me (Hour 10)

Love is doing good deeds when no one is watching.

It is the absence of your self within your actions.

Love is that which all require, but none is willing to acquire.

Love is that which all aspire for, yet, dont inspire.

Love, the thing that everyone wants and nobody wants to give.

Love, is that which seems to be of no importance to the culprits of disordinance.

Love is that which is counterfeited and sold as fools gold in the form of flesh and bone. Moist kisses of cognac and Menthol scented regrets.

What IS love? A drug? A natural herb that one can tea and boil and spoil.

Is it soil that saw you young as you stepped upon its ground, is it mother who has left, was she Love? Is love dead?

Is it only in our hearts, in our minds, in our dreams?

If not us, then what is love

Then what is love,

If it ain’t me.

Symphony

The air in the wind grinds your nostril into an

Ammonium confirmed compound of lost.

You do not choke and you do not falter.

A street with ghosts must only gather

A confederation of darkness, your skin

Kind is the first to assemble. Ghosts are whites

So even in this holy ground you’re discriminated.

You leave the one places that calls you son, two

Roads diverge in a yellow wood. You take none,

You take all, you cling to the illusion of righteousness,

You put your hand again, today, against all the odds

Yet, you cannot count yourself among your people

And you cannot clasp and not shake in silence —

So all the nights music, lay quietly before the soft

Lip of the broken town of ghosts and my kinsmen.

What Do I Do? (Poem 13)

 

Glorifying life and relationships

Making people believe

That love exists

That happy endings are possible

 

I lie and fake it all

More faff than fact

I make people assume fiction is reality

 

What do I do?

I weave tall tales

 

In response to text prompt number 13:

Describe your profession through a funny/humourous poem.

Hour 13 “Dunes…”

Hour 13

9/2/2023

 

“Dunes…”

 

I’ve wandered far – both life and world

coasts and deserts

both salt and clear,

and life itself – God’s touch was near.

And found the “dunes” of life that entrap the living

with the sands that bind within hourglass forms

’til life is held so tight and dear.

 

Our dunes bear no Melange to guide our sight.

Nothing to pause the mires of life that draw

and imprison our very souls.

Each step, each pause, each breath – brings neither peace

nor surcease… the motion of emotion buries then embalms.

 

And I’ve wandered the echoes behind our eyes

seen the release of wormsign to come.

Prayed to a silent God who KNEW what was

and will be.  And felt the Son bring a smile.

 

Walk with me…

beside – neither behind nor ahead.

Share the vision that holds us close and free.

And understand what it is to be “we”.

 

Chris

(C) Chris Twyford 9/2/2023

 

 

 

 

One day at a time

ONE DAY AT A TIME

I will write another spell of words

To share with You

I will collect the stories

Shape them into sentences

I will infuse random thoughts

With inspiration

I will gain the courage to tell You more

About my life in search of truth

I will express another piece of my soul

One day at a time