Naked Guise

You will not find poetry here
Here, no poet resides.

But perhaps you’ll find some magic,
(Which cannot be defined.)

Summoned by a gypsy soul
Hiding behind a naked guise.

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Naked Guise: Poetry Undefined

The reality is, this isn’t working out the way I’d hoped.

But, I refuse to torture you with yet another dramatic exit from the blogging world, explaining why…

It’s not you. It’s me. (a conversation I avoid at all costs).

Instead, I’m offering a detour of sorts.

Until otherwise inspired, I’m focusing on a collection of words, presented in a form so foreign to my fingers, I don’t dare call it poetry.

I’m not a poet, after all.

So this isn’t goodbye. We’ll still meet in the same place we always do. It will just look a bit foreign (more to me than you).

It’s not as mysterious as it seems, although some say it’s where magic resides…summoned by a gypsy soul, hiding behind a naked guise.

For most direct route, take detour to the main menu and follow Poetry Undefined.

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This time it was the apple, but I’ll keep trying.

I received a request for something a bit more substantial than “just a quote,” and another for something more, “I don’t know, about butterflies or what you did in Australia. Something happy.”

Right, okay. Butterflies. Happy…

So I sat down, opened up a new document, and took a bite of my apple…

Mushy apples, wet peanut butter, cigarette smoke.
Caged animals, plastic straws, tree stumps.
Distended bellies, oppressed souls, false hope.

Hiccups, parking tickets, splintered wood.
Sirens, screeching brakes, raised fists.
Apathy, the sound of pain, someday I should…

You deserve the best, cold feet, flights home.
Broken promises, resignation, empty words.
Rainy days, sleeping alone…waking up alone.

Starting over one more time, one more time.

I’ll try again next week…or maybe the next.

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Okay, here is my offering to make up for the absence of butterflies. The thing that always feeds my soul, even after the mushiest of apples.

Courage

That moment of truth. Your truth.
When you stop running. Because you have to.

Because your soul implores you.

That moment you discover, what you feared most
was, in fact, what you’ve been searching for all along.

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Images by Ionut Caras

Forbearance

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No Love, you are not broken.
There is nothing to be fixed.

You are just beautiful in a way
most can’t understand.

But you don’t want most, do you.

You don’t need to be understood by someone
who can’t see the beauty in imperfection.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               * by Shawna Erback