Poetry Love

Poetry and I understand each other. We are old school friends. There for each other during the good, the bad and the downright ugly.  Over the last years though, somehow I had let that relationship dwindle, without realising really, without rhyme nor reason. So when I recently took part in Liz Lamoreux's Create Space course where she included some delicious poetry, which spoke so directly to my poetic soul, a part of me was reawakened. I sat in wonder as I realised just how much I had missed this friend. And so of course I signed up for Liz's current course, Poem It Out, and it is turning out to be the most inspiring  course I have taken part in in recent times (and there have been a few!) Not only am I discovering many new (well, new to me) poets, who totally get where I am coming from, even though we have never exchanged a word, but I am writing more poetry than I have done since adolescence. Liz offers depth, inspiration, thought provoking angles and so much joy. I feel mighty lucky to have a poetry angel to guide me on this particular adventure.

Today's poetry offering is quite a solemn one (I promise there may well be more joyous contributions ahead). I sat in front of my laptop, in the early hours as sleep had yet again left the building, and the words poured out. When I read the end result I oddly felt a sense of closure for addressing the insomnia, for defining how it feels to me.

Insomnia

Dusk.

Cradling whispers envelop.

Stuffed with iridescent motes, a satchel

Blurs the too bright glossy images of day.

A face of fine parchment, 

Creased softly,

Voices delicious promises

Alongside the tumbling particles 

Flowing through spindly fingers.

A feeling of muffled petticoats

As slumber winds through the shadows.

The edge of a tattered cloak

Vanishes beyond a windowpane.

Stricken eyes search for and deny

What they know is there.

Forced, I clamber back into night.

Unwished for clarity startles,

Tangled with fragmented thoughts.

Echoes of what has been

And the might bes and the what ifs

Grip vice like without escape.

Weighted down I lie in the shadows.