No Disney Mermaids, Here No Disney mermaids, here, in a predawn net of dreams that won't let me go. But that's not quite true. I hold onto them, too, over reality because life is the nightmare that's real. And so I drown, at long last, in tangled water, choosing the insanity, where water becomes a hand. And I hold onto it, too, because I'm also scared to drown, even in this wonder of dreams. We're not Disney mermaids; not svelte, with lovely voices, and it's suddenly fine that we are our real selves. The ones battered by storms and rocks, that have many scars, and that we drown together in this space between worlds. Because that is the love we need. A something real one. A strong one. But our waking thoughts try to rip us apart. I feel your hand in mine, still, and I don't let go, but it's hard to make the tea that will bring me back to the world I hate. But it's that world that brings me your message in a drowning bottle. And I'm glad I haven't let go.
In the Unknown Space
In this imagined space,
you are the hardest to believe
that you aren’t real
just a ghost among all the other unknowns.
But I still meet you here, playing among
unicorns and fairies and a lost-forever
garden of childhoods never had.
And this poem fails to capture what you are.
Stilted and awkward but always hopeful
for the day I wake, and you are here,
dreaming me into something known.
Of the Heart of the Storm
Madness swirls, here
this world of paradox and confusion
where ravens are kind, and
On their wings, I fly into the eye
of my storm, where
in ice and shadows and all things secret,
your light softly shines,
bringing me home
for the last time.
In this maze of dreams,
we are both lost and found
chasing each other like ghosts
up and down corridors and
I follow lipstick’d messages
that blaze scarlet in this
Sometimes I hear you crying
in the looking-glass
I can’t leave you anything
but smeary hand prints.
Your rooms, caretaker,
are gathering more dust
with each passing year.
I want to find you,
bring you out of this madness, our ancient storm
into a world without walls and shadows
where we dance on rainbows
and fly away on butterfly wings.
The Glitch is Constant
Just like every other day
the reboot has failed
I’ve examined my insides
but the how-to-fix-things
button remains hidden
I’ve looked to the outside world
for the caring techician
to bring both expert knowledge
but no such thing exists.
Sometimes I still wonder
who will fix me
even though it’s futile
so I just wait in this state of decay
for the reboot of my soul’s time
or even the reset of eons
to erase humanity for sake of the animals
It’s the only hope I have left.
I hope everyone is happy, warm, and safe in their little time pocket of the multiverse!
If you signed up for the newsletter, I look forward to reading and sharing your New Year’s creative thoughts (if any). I’ve scheduled this post in advance, just in case I was able to make it to another realm for New Year’s. Thanks to those who participated.
The Green Stars Project New Year’s resolution: “My not-so-secret wish is to practice ethical consumerism and to also encourage others to do so. I have a specific plan, and I’ll know that it’s starting to work whenever I see another person writing a Green Stars review! My latest post, which starts with a brief discussion on liminal space, pretty much sums it up. https://greenstarsproject.org/2017/12/29/resolution/. Sometimes, perhaps when I’m faltering on my path a little bit, the universe sends me a sign – it usually comes from an animal. That’s kind of where it all started – with my cat and other animals. Baggins the cat is no longer on this plane (or maybe he is back on it in another form) but I think he still guides me.”
New Year’s Poem by Willow Croft:
“I think time is broken,”
you tell me, in my sleep.
It’s my 365th attempt to fix things
but our clocks are lives and years apart.
With each tinkering,
more pieces of me
pile up in the corners,
and I’m running out of places to hide
from monsters under the bed and
in real life.
So I seek my way out of these worlds.
At the harbour, I’ve missed the boat.
At the airport, I’ve missed the last plane out.
At the station, I’ve missed the train.
And my carriage never arrives
at its destination.
Always a day late and a dollar short
and a hundred years away from you
in the dark and cold
of another new beginning.
© Willow Croft 2017-2018
“One Hundred Years” by The Cure: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBtBD2WwvGY
My lovely holiday newsletter is ready to send out!
Even better, I decided to create a wishes-come-true contest to go with it (A signed copy of my poetry book to eleven lucky winners!). Details will be in my email newsletter, so sign up by using the link to the right on the widgets sidebar (MailChimp), or go here.
Good luck in the contest!
Happy holidays, and have a lovely winter season to all my follower friends!