I could tickle the shade
on a day like today,
musky odour (I admit)
emitting from my “delicate” temple
whose flustered
along with my will
to make happy with
they
who step lightly and grin
while I drip
and drop
and drag myself onward
through what seems like concrete Sahara
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
When my daisy
Came to life
I hinged myself forward and tickled her petals
Then plucking her up forcefully
I cradled her and twirled her up overhead
Dangling her between sky and ground
And like a rabid saltshaker
Her pollen milled through the cracks on my fingers
And seeped into my skin.
T DM
How intently and with purpose the wind blows
with every gust and turn in direction
it is the sweet laugh of God
combing through my hair
and untangling my scarf.
TDM
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
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
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
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
the trees are polite
they bow to the wind
whenever it pushes through clouds
and knocks upon their cracked bark,
their aged and writhed skin,
contours of time shaped by the hand
of everything,
blushes as gusts brush upon them
like the touch of a lover’s face
pressed against a lover’s face,
comfort, sweet and warm
to contrast rough and gritty,
overwhelm these monuments,
make their leaves shake and whisper
to one another, excitedly.
TDM
I heard once
That slumping through
Moss was enough
To satisfy any
Lust for adventure,
That turning
Pebbles over in my
Hand would be
Rugged enough,
That I should not
Dirty my dress
Or get bugs in my hair,
But I have also heard
That rolling
Over hills and under
Starry skies is never
Enough for a
Single lifetime,
It is never enough
To quench a thirst
For dipping toes in lakes,
Washing hands
In rivers and falling
Asleep to the crickets
Buzz, humming in my ear
Whilst grass and
Earth so cool
Under my body
Tickles before I become
A treat for tiny
Bugs whom I implore
To be gentle
To leave a little something
For myself.
T. DM
P.S. I would love some feedback on this piece, mostly regarding whether or not it sounds incomplete. Cheers readers!
The snow is falling now, and I am happy to walk through the village and let it cover me like a cloak. The flakes tickle my eyelashes and for once I am okay with giggling to myself and smiling, even though passers by can see no reason for a grin or a smirk on such a grey day.
Grey days hardly bother me. I like the stoic feel of the sky, to find the peeking light in other places when the sun is not shining amuses me and brings me much pleasure. And how amplified the little pleasures seem on days when there appears to be no light. The want or need for them is much greater.
I do not want the winter to end. I really do not. I like the way it makes me feel. I love the coziness of coming indoors from a frosty walk and warming my cheeks by the fire. I like how hot chocolate is smooth and how quilts are heavy warmth wrapped around my legs.
I like the woods when it is snowing. How the birch looks behind a sheet of falling snow. How the evergreens become white monuments with green needles poking through. How tracks outline a walkway of otherwise white roads and guide me anyway and every way. And if I find a lonely path, I would hope that my own tracks would not be covered by the ceaseless snowfall, though beautiful and silent, that I might, when I desire, be able to find my way back.
T. DM
Poetry and Prose by Teresa Di Matteo 