In a world of shrivel and wilt
When what we need is seed and sprout
I am neither gather nor grow
I am wither and rot
TDM
Tag: Blog
Hug from Nonna
I hug my Nonna twice a year:
On her birthday
And on mine
But only because I engage
I announce the occasion
Buon compleano!
Lean in
And wrap one arm around her shoulders
I love you
I love you too
A kiss on the cheek
Maybe
But more likely reserved
For milestone occasions
TDM
Ugly
I have forgotten myself many times
mostly on purpose
I have made days go by without saying hello to
a mirror
and have been even better
at making nights disappear
suffocating myself under blankets
the easiest place to be
where words are muffled
and sounds elude me.
TDM
Word Vomit of the Imaginary Traveler
I have gone on many paper adventures, pages and pages of text have carried me up and up, far, far away. Daydreams and sleepy dreams have comforted my thoughts and set an imaginary trail behind me. Footsteps through cobblestone pathways, sipping dark coffee, following lamppost moons. Then tracking through snowy banks, heavy feet and runny nose, breathing in crisp frost, windy tears wiping away snowflakes that land on cheeks. Sun baked faces turning red as gazes are lifted, trailing the side of ancient monument and sand castle. Silk or linen draped across wandering eyes, highlighted colours amongst sepia and terra cotta. Crickets keeping souls awake in the night, a reminder to feed the fire to keep the warmth from escaping the tent, so that catching fireflies is a little bit more interesting. Though harder to see them in flame light, it is better for roasting marshmallows. Stopping by a stream to sip or splash water in the cracking faces and worn boots. Stopping by the side and peeling off jackets to rest heads on, stones to prop tired feet upon. And finally listening to ocean swells with active ears and quiet faces, being sprayed with salty mist. Then to squish toes in the sand when the water has not covered them, scraping a heal on a little shell, a tiny home built in repetitive beauty, swirling and twirling curves. The shell made of soft pinks and yellows, like the canvas stretching far beyond the rolling and bouncing waves, going going on until hidden by blues, lighter, then darker, then burst of silver overhead. Twinkle to preserve some light for walking home in, howls to bid goodnight.
TDM
Child Grin
i can tell
when you lean in quite close
that you wear the fragile grin of a child
on your face,
to hide behind gritted armour
has done you well
but you leave a trail of feathers behind
whenever I walk with you,
a hurried look on your face
to peek through fences
and burrow in the mud
excitement for any difference in the day,
what wonderful character that is,
to fill my head with thoughts of
daisies and falling
leaves and perfume
staining the air,
innocent charm that
scoops me up and tosses me
onto a bed of golden leaves
stealing sweet smiles
that become gentler
and soften into tiny baby giggles
as you frame my face with your hands
and lean in quite close
Stray
This piece is yet another work in progress. I would appreciate any feedback on composition or completion (is it complete or does it feel incomplete and abrupt).
A stray took to me
Like a fox to a fawn
And in so doing clung to my skirt
With such grip that she
almost tore me loose
From my garment
So instead of resisting
I guided her
along with me
And took rest by a bank
For I knew she would like to investigate
Just as much as I
What company had befallen her
TDM
Breeze
While she lay in bed, she felt the breeze rush in from the open window. The curtains danced along with every gust and whip the wind took. What pleasure the night had brought her. What utter content it was to have the light of the moon hover outside, as she lay cloaked in sheets, sinking into cushion and feathers. Every inhale took her deeper under the covers, every exhale was a cuddle and a relief. The chirping crickets sang to her, or were a steady beat, keeping with the rhythm of her breath. If she could stay this way forever, she would.
TDM
Skipping Rocks
I would skip
rocks
with my feet plunged into moss
curl my toes underneath mud
grip myself
turning a stone over in my hand
weighing it with every rotation
to make sure it wouldn’t just
plunk
to the bottom of the brook
though if it did
it would not be lonely
because there are plenty of others
who have
sunk
to the
bottom
and nestled themselves
even after they’ve skidded the rapids.
TDM
A Little Nature
If only i could lie
in the grass for more
than just a little while
I could graze the atmosphere
with my drifting eyes
turning my head this way and
that way
I’d twitch my ears
to tune them to the sound
of daffodils being kissed
by tiny insects
I could wipe my nose clean and
inhale perfumed stardust
that would shake itself off
and hitch a ride on currents
golden flecks falling through my hair
hovering first like a halo
and I would not mind nibbles
from creatures polite enough
to make their presence known
take what they need and then leave.
TDM
With So Many Tears
With so many tears
A dismal life of clutter
And not
Having anything of value
Not a one
Decent face
with whom
To bid the morning anew
Sallow and pale
A cause for no real
Alarm
Nothing permanent to cling to
Not in object defying
Wasteland
Sleepless nights
Tangled sheets for one
With so many tears
For lights out
Without any bed time story
II
With so many tears
A hopeful breath familiar
And with
Attentive nods and grins
Always
A lovely face
with whom to
Tuck away the evening and
bid the morning anew
A smitten tide of
Suitable love,
Of comfort,
Of
Mind at ease and
Simple pace of thoughts
Heart still racing
With excited touch
Lights out
With promise of bed time stories
TDM
Wings and Tied
It has been a long time
Since I have listened to chirping or
A flutter
A far cry from usual territory
Out of range by a long
Shot
Beats
Like a propeller, where there is a chill
In the air
Retreat
Or do not if your bones permit
If your fragility
Has not caught up with you
And your garb is puffed and fluffed
In flight you are
Formidable
On solid ground
You are canvass and backdrop
All in one
Swoop
And glide
In a most translucent way
That there may be less chance
Of foul and etched irritants
From gilded feathers
Plucked
Of a nuisance.
TDM
Poetry and Prose by Teresa Di Matteo 