…actually, why not?
asleep in the rise
of a star
set against light
passing
in lifetimes, twinned
against systems
nebulous
as far as they are wide
daunting
we circumvent
a sun
one look
the night sky
and the past gazes
back, calmly
ancient is the dark
that holds our sun
light so holy
so necessary
to us all
as we go
gently, gently
into that good
night
so bright
stardust, twinkling
alive.
© 2015 threegoodwords
 
 
green golden meadows
spread lush out
into the sky
seamed dark by cool pines
lemony white
a butterfly
fluttering in bright bushes
over at the birches, an argument
one nest chirps, the other disagrees
and two cats doze in the sun
listening
while mother and daughter
walk by quietly
one calm, the other happy
that first taste of ice cream
remember?
how the days go by
peaceful, serene.
© 2015 threegoodwords
in steps
word for moment
sight opens wide to the n’th light
of what’s meant
to be
to be seen
together now
far beyond and yet so close
one step at a time
like a toddler curving up
out to the hand helping, holding
one more, just one more
until the muse
that silent call
descends like morning fog
dewdrop stars
icily fresh on the soul
feet of the mind
running
…
beyond now
lies forever for a heartbeat
one
and one
fingers slip on keys
pause
a thought
yes, now
and then now and now
yesterday, today
and one more
tomorrow
.
© 2015 threegoodwords
trying once, twice
to centre the liquid
doubt on one line
of thought and feeling
where sight contracts
to lenses shaded black
pink, blue like smokey bayou
bars of light, filtering
a piece of silence curved
fitted around the word
less of a momentary slip
of mind opening the window for a moment?
and, there, right there
that silence, sudden
soundlightimage
shattered
gone
until another moment
hopefully.
© 2015 threegoodwords
like rivulets of silk
darkly smooth in
mellow sweetness
the soul of a melody
is lodged deep down
your heart and spine
right in the marrow bone
and you wonder for three seconds:
why fear?
for in the depth
there is a height so vast
so far
you’re the prophet
with the chariots of fire
the dark lady worshiped
with lute and lyre
the throned god ruling
the liquid gyre
all those pasts layed to rest
calling quietly
to be remembered, known
aspired
so yes,
this is the moment
this is the time, there is no other
there is always, only
now
now
now
.
© 2015 threegoodwords
Words, images & collages tossed from a window.
Essays, notes & interviews on why literary fiction matters to human living
small press. great publishing.
but don't take my word for it
Home hub & scribble space of Prose Writer & Poet Kristiane Weeks-Rogers (she/hers), author of poetry collection: 'Self-Anointment with Lemons'.
A journey from one end of the bookshelf to the other
three good words 