Like a geyser, I gush,
spurting my rage,
but it’s all underneath,
turmoil engaged.
From the top of my head
to the bottom of my feet,
the swells of unrest
continue to heat.
The storm grows stronger,
destruction in its wake.
Still, I try to breathe calmly,
fearing I might break.
And nobody ever knows
the misery I endure;
It’s all just a façade,
a superficial blur.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/grief-woman-cry-destruction-pain-5501796/
Here waiting
by this old rusty door,
the key to my future
and all its splendor.
Walking through the door,
a brilliant light floods my path;
darkness dissipates behind me
as I make a mad dash.
Finally, free of all
I’ve ever known and endured,
your outstretched hand in front of me,
so gentle and concerned.
At long last, finding the place
where I belong,
wrapped in a love so tender
and yet so strong.
Your embrace whisking me
away from this world,
the depths of our desires
at last unfurled.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Writing prompt: Here waiting by the door
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/heart-castle-love-symbol-romantic-603214/
Sometimes our minds
deceive us,
thoughts oft spilling over
as introspection takes flight.
Our minds tend to steal
our boxes,
those fancy ones filled
with practical reasoning.
Our minds can be
negligent and hurried,
blundering through the day,
then seizing up at night.
Our minds are uniquely etched
with thoughts and desires,
each personal contemplation
deliciously our own.
Our minds can get lost
in the depths of depravity
or swing gracefully to the side
of decency and honor.
Our minds are full of reflections,
ideas, and wonder,
serving as a haven
for the things we must hide.
Our minds can be enigmatic
or effortlessly understandable,
typically only ever failing us
if we give away our control.
And sometimes, we obsess
and overthink because we’re human,
forgetting that our minds
have a mind of their own.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/water-beauty-model-reflection-4658769/
There’s magic to be found
on this midsummer day;
quiet reflections prevent it
from skittering away.
Gilded rays of light
affectionately dance;
it seems almost as if the sun
is looking for romance.
The rippling river responds,
flowing joyously round the bend,
sweeping along sparkling waters
which seem eager to descend.
Dainty green grasses dot
the edges of the stream,
always the perfect place
to curl up and dream.
Breath held deep,
eyes shut good and tight,
yet even behind closed lids,
the sun still shines so bright.
The larks seem unbothered,
flying straight overhead,
collecting more fluff
for their soft downy beds.
Cracking an eye
at the snap of a stick,
a pudgy little lizard
scurries away so quick.
Lifting to lean,
face cupped in hand,
fighting the obligation
to get up and stand.
Gaze suddenly caught
by unexpected delight,
endless rows of sunflowers
stretching towards the light.
Energized by excitement
as more wonders abound,
amazed by the brilliance
while looking around.
Every curiosity of nature,
free for all to share,
nothing else in this life
can ever compare.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/trees-riverbank-summer-nature-6541315/
Better than anything,
her cuteness makes me smile.
Underneath the maple tree,
we laugh for a very long while.
The next thing we both know,
the sun is nearing its stage to set.
Time seems like our enemy
when we realize that’s all we get.
End-of-day loveliness
stretches across the carnation sky.
Remembering the late hour,
still deferring the day’s goodbye.
Yesterday’s such as this
often leave a feeling of bittersweet.
But those memories, they fill us
on days when we’re incomplete.
Illusions of everlasting delight
remain cradled upon our chests.
So many things a mother suffers,
the losses are hard to digest.
Come what may we say in quiet,
as the years start to pass us by.
Until the end draws nearer
and we’re left with all the why’s.
It’s the not knowing that hurts the most;
the answers never found.
This life is never easy,
but we do our best to be around.
Silently we pass; still, nobody ever knows
all a mother suffers and endures
as they watch their babies grow.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/mother-child-family-daughter-girl-3793521/
Writing prompt: Buttery biscuits – given to me by my very sweet daughter, Autumn Rose.
Her Writing Haven 