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/
We get ourselves up,
and the magic begins;
stretching for miles,
inspiration spins.
Winding its way
from shore to shore,
sorcery floods pages
with creativity galore.
None can get enough,
so we suck it all in,
not a single word
goes in the bin.
Ideas flow freely,
our pages complete;
every word written
a mesmerizing treat.
Images spill out
on thirsty pages;
hungrily, we feed
as momentum rages.
The mind a playground,
every heart, a child;
the results of a writer
full of wonder and wild.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/child-forest-lights-magic-7035625/
As the day drifts by,
I sit alone,
lost in the land
of blackened stone.
But the air is clear,
and the sky is blue,
and it’s the glory of this place
that sees me through.
If I’m stranded knee-deep,
stuck in regret,
this is my chosen place
to toss my net.
Then I sit and wait
for my mind to lift;
a gentle breeze
allows my thoughts to shift.
My quest for answers
consumes my brain,
but sitting here stills
what my body can’t tame.
Then I forget the years
and the people I know
and allow the earth
to choose where I go.
Whispers of peace
tickle my ears,
reminding me to let go
of all of my fears.
And the day carries on
as I jump to my feet,
seeing the good
in everyone I meet.
Blessed for the time
I’ve had in this place,
a sanctuary of love
filled with grace.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
In whispers along
those distant easterly winds,
I hear you yearning
from deep within.
A hushed desire,
a shushed thrill,
waiting and wanting
as the cold night stills.
Desperate longing,
so loving and sure,
making all these miles
so hard to endure.
Racing thoughts
as cravings run rampant,
yet suffocated by sheets
where warmth is absent.
The days tick by
while our breasts lay bare,
but dreams they beckon,
flourishing in the air.
Our fantasies morph
into realistic pleasures
and dancing after dusk
is our favorite endeavor.
But it’s there in the shadows
where we truly find our way,
into each other’s arms,
where we strive to stay.
Desperate for one kiss,
appeased by a calming sigh
hidden in our hearts,
all the many reasons why.
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-nude-body-erotic-sensual-5815695/
Originally written: June 2020
The past still beckons me,
though my future is clear.
Still, it’s hard to leave behind
all the things we once held dear.
Unfortunately, people change,
and our hearts wail in disbelief.
And those unspoken topics
are the bearers of our grief.
Woeful whispers in the night
tend to fuel my disheartened spirit.
I try to bandage my bleeding heart,
but nothing can ever cure it.
So many things I want to forget,
but there’s nothing I can undo.
So I spend my days looking for ways
to begin my life anew.
Written by, Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/sci-fi-fantasy-moon-couple-7143964/
Writing prompt, courtesy of my hubby: Nighttime whispers.
Her Writing Haven 