Regarding life

Life can blow in gentle wisps
or suddenly seize the day
in consternation.
So whenever I sense a billowy riff,
I look to the sky for clarification.
Of course, I realize that many storms
pass without peril,
and there is often radiance
after the rain.
But when a particularly vile storm
causes all the flowers to sag,
I know each one understands me.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sunflower-flowers-plant-helianthus-4339701/

Meandering thoughts…

As spring bleeds into summer,
I know fall will soon usher in,
and the memories of you
will just become more vivid.
This was your season,
the one my dream foretold.

You were happiest here
amongst the acorns
and the cottonwood trees.
And you never missed a chance
to tell me how it was the song
of your heart.

As more memories flood me now,
I wrestle with the wind
as it disrupts my tears;
a cold hand for comfort
is all it can offer my soul.

The light of you
left my path long ago.
But I still see you
in every golden leaf
that glides my way.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/tree-nature-grass-landscape-4339191/

Bent bristles and blended bananas

You were the bent bristles
against my skin,
causing me to rethink
the situation I was in.

Your continuous brushing
left me wanting more;
I could finally see a rainbow
peeking through my door.

The color you displayed
forever touched my heart,
and my world turned so gray
when at last, we had to part.

Sort of like blended bananas
when they’re left out all day,
their pretty yellow hue
turns the color of dismay.

And it’s so very sad
the way we both had to leave;
the mere thought
is still so hard to conceive.

But at long last,
I’m seeing color once again;
my rainbow was always here
nestled deep within.

I think I was holding on
too tight to your light
when all along,
this was really just my fight.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://pixabay.com/photos/reflection-woman-silhouette-umbrella-1082159/

Writing prompt: Bent bristles and blended bananas

Gibberish gents and dog-eared doohickies

I once spent a tarnished red cent
for a man who was undeniably hell-bent
on being an obnoxious
and gibberish gent.

And I knew for certain
I shouldn’t have wasted my token,
but I felt so sorry
when the man’s doohickey became broken.

To this day, I still wonder
if I’ll ever finally learn
not to let a man’s problems be
of any of my concern.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/girl-woman-depression-3629520/

Writing prompt: Gibberish gents and dog-eared doohickies

I keep track of all the days…

I keep track of all the days in between;
the ones when you don’t say you love me.
And during those days,
my heart beats a little less enthusiastically,
the sighs are a little longer,
and my shoulders slump a little more.
Sometimes the longing and the aching
can be almost unbearable.
But then I think back to all the times
when those three little words
were never spoken at all;
all those years filled
with such a lonely longing in my chest.
I know I will never be in that place again
because you always remind me of that
with your steadfast presence every day.
And when that realization hits me,
that you’re not leaving me,
I’m finally able to stop myself from falling,
cradling my mind, and finding comfort
in my own embrace.
It’s in that nurtured state
that I somehow find a way to let go
of the demons which harbor my weary discontent.
And eventually, that nagging feeling
starts to evaporate, disintegrating bit by bit
in every relaxing exhale,
calming a little more in every deep breath.
I’m never quite the same, though,
as my own strength can never carry me
all the way through.
And so I wait patiently until you’re here again,
reminding me that love is more than words.
But because you know I need to hear it,
you expose your stubborn soul to me,
finally giving in to my neediness.
And that’s when my heart explodes
in reassured joy
because your loving words mean everything to me.
And even though I already know you love me,
the reminder frees my soul and refuels my spirit.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/natural-woman-in-park-female-4646384/

Vibrant verbena and alabaster artichokes

The verbena still grows
lovelier than ever,
vibrant in violet,
ever reaching toward
the noonday sun.

And yet here I am
in a state of utter confusion,
still looking at the world
through the dullest
shades of gray.

I’m increasingly in awe
of all the flowers in the fields,
the way they sit so simply,
poised in elegance
and imbued with grace.

I reckon I’m more like
the alabaster artichokes,
colorless and thorny on the edges,
still waiting for my chance to revel
in the realm of my full potential.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/flowers-verbena-violet-blossom-756181/

Writing prompt: Vibrant verbena and alabaster artichokes

Foaming oceans and secret potions

Foamy, translucent blue swells
give birth to an abundance of tiny seashells.

A few find their path and scuttle away,
but many more find themselves lost in the vast array.

The stranded ones lie in crevices hoping they’ll be found
before the savage sea pounds them into the ground.

A few get noticed by curious little hands,
but most get tossed back into the abrasive sand.

The ones that survive are mostly made of pristine perfection
while the others bide their time in a constant state of rejection.

Silently they wish for secret potions that do not exist,
at last being pulled under, lost to the murky mist.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/water-surf-nature-sea-wave-ocean-3194377/

Writing prompt: Foaming oceans and secret potions

Say goodbye to the war

Detach and draw away
Under the covers
Cold and gray
Endure the cycle of decay
Bury your head
And fill it with dismay

These are the fallacies
We choose to believe
Filling up our heads
Causing us to grieve
Not even worth repeating
Such thoughts are just defeating

So push through and release
While all your troubles
Beg to increase
Say goodbye to the war
The one that’s hidden
Behind your door

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://pixabay.com/photos/cold-frost-winter-the-disease-2722002/

Something to cling to…

Amid the chaos
of our cluttered world,
sometimes we have only
but a past moment,
something distinctly different
from all the other colorless days.
And that one solitary moment,
the one we treasure
with fondness and love
gives us something to cling to
when we can no longer see
a single thread of light.
Those rare moments exist
to reassure us during the times
when the dark dares
to snuff out our light.
That one blessed memory
is often what unexpectedly
sees us through.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/black-and-white-monochrome-people-2590418/

I remember that day…

I remember the way the branches
curled towards me that day,
the way they swayed to and fro.
It was something
beautifully unexpected,
a miracle of nature,
a divine curiosity.
And I remember standing there
in wide-eyed awe,
losing myself
to the sheer loveliness,
lost in a state
of childlike wonder.
Chills crept down my spine
in delightful little bits,
and goosebumps erupted
as a plethora
of tingling sensations
washed over me
from head to toe.
But the thrill
wasn’t meant to last,
and after one breathless sigh
I blinked,
and the exquisite array vanished.
That was when
the heaviness began to gather
at my feet,
and an unforeseen darkness
approached from a place
I’d never been.
As the winds altered
their direction,
everything changed.
And the wondrous splendor
of that unforgettable day
is still nowhere to be found.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo taken: July 10, 2020 in Milton, WI

Loneliness

Loneliness
it comes in many forms
and I have known them all.
But I think the loneliest times
are when I’m surrounded
by a sea of expressionless faces.
Those empty-eyed, silent beings
always appear to be lost in
mind-numbing, alien-sweeping,
brain-snatching activity.
And if I stare intently enough,
focusing long and hard enough,
I can almost see those denatured
souls being surreptitiously sucked
out of every finger-tapping mortal
who has unknowingly fallen victim
to the technological advances
of our times.
It often leaves me queasy
and fearfully uneasy.
For I must admit that I too,
have fallen subject to the
interest of self-isolation
within the matrix.
Using it as a security blanket
for companionship
because community
no longer exists
within the confines
of my existence.
There are instances
when I do attempt
to turn the world around.
And with desperate breath
I try to disengage
from the illuminated rectangle
nestled nice and neat
between my pale palms.
But then loneliness sneaks in,
finding me once again.
And the screen in my hands
becomes the only life left
to be found.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/portrait-woman-black-and-white-2308893/