Hour 8 – sevenling
it is a pulse of light
a twinkle in the night
a fairy spark full of magic
it is a creepy-crawly
a six-legged beastie
a bug
it is a firefly
Hour 8: Stars
The stars were once bright spots
But now they are spots of fire
Burning all that they touch
Once full of stories
Now full of horrors
We don’t name them for our gods now
But of poisons and death
The stars shine for pain now
No linger for beauty
I wasn’t feeling the form prompt so I looked through Pinterest instead.
…And I Lied Down (Sevenling)
…And I lied down
I came down
For a spin, a jig
And a rhapsody
I drew the strings
The canes, the blinds
The bedspread neat
…and lied down quietly
Hour 8
@varenyas
Prompt ten hour eight
I will go under,
the maple, hiding from the rain,
feet deep in mud.
I will go above,
ever changing leaves and rainbows,
finding clouds to drop from.
No matter the weather, I will.
C. Churchill
Sevenling
He was such a precocious child
He was such a warm-hearted child
He was such an affectionate child
He has become so apathetic
He has become so cold
He has become so hard
Yet I love him still and forever.
(OK, this one tested my poetic mettle, as I’ve never been keen on form poetry.)
The Final Revolution
Indulgence in pleasure
A poly-addiction
Dull your pain and abandon conviction
The patience of a saint
The stillness of a monk
More learned than all ancient scholars
Wake up and check your inbox
Hour Eight – Sevenling Form
Tree limbs falling
Leaves flying
Branches thrown about
Saw is buzzing
Deeply cutting
Removing all the rot
Wife watches husband work while sipping away on her wine
gj
Soften
Soften
Unclench fists
Unhitch shoulders
Thread breath
From crown to sole
Blur focus
Shape dissolves to color
Heart chamber door open
Jaw unhinged
Sigh exalts
From rib’s rafters
Muscles unknit
Joints unlock
Swaying hips
Wax and wane
Soften
Into time’s rhythm
(a sevenling)
Getting the diagnosis was
unbelievable, sobering,
confusing to the max.
Adjusting to this new reality
is requisite, impossible,
unfinished as of this writing.
Update at 10 (years, we hope).
Love the Hate
Learning to love what I hate
I hate cleaning yet I’m learning to love it
Because I can’t stand a dirty floor
Learning to love what I hate
What I have strong feelings for
This way or that way
This comparison can be applied and connected
To so much more
Copyright © 2019 by Angelica Stevenson
All Rights Reserved