the grand small vastness of it all

Photo: Totomai Used with Permission

Photo: Totomai Martinez
Used with Permission

there is such loveliness out in the wild.
(and i have fear of heights
and of small, closed in spaces.)

were i to fly,
i’d mount on wings of egret
or of eagle.

to span the breadth of freedom,
circle in a rhythmic dance above
wide open skies and crystal waters.

(for cities—i eschew the crowds),
i’d flee to mountain slopes
of flowering lavender and paper-whites,

and walk in fields of wild grass
and poppies, brilliantly adorned
in colors—Wordsworth’s meadow—

then open wide that span of wings
to swirling winds that rise
and thus within those arms

i’d surf in pure abandonment
the currents
of the breath of life until

beside a calm, still lake
i’d wait, alone, for death to come
then gently,

in the early morning light
go back to earth
once more to nourish all that is to be.

For the prompt at dVerse Poetics please join us to view and be inspired by the amazing photography of Totomai Martinez. It would be hard to miss the poetry in his work. Thank you, Mary, for sharing prompt this with us. And special thanks to this talented photographer.

The doors open Tuesday at 12:00 EST.

Panic

I began writing this for the contest celebrating dVerse’s first year anniversary, (for the urban theme)  but I wasn’t able to complete it in time, so I thought I’d link it to OLN. I’m beginning to think I’m a rural recluse at heart!

Photo: Google Images
howtogeek.com

Panic

I fear the city.
I fear gang-
ly groves of trees
that prowl,
pursuing bedlam.

I fear unknown
faces, unfamiliar voices
lurking in night-black
alleyways,
their purpose
fraught with pain,
ambition,
ill-intent.
I fear their primal rage

and I fear FEAR,
that hurtles toward
destruction
or success,
anonymity amassed
in closed-in space
that sucks stifled
stale air.

I fear the loss
of open fields,
of earth’s dank smell
and Gaia’s grainy touch.
The loss of birdsong,
and of honeysuckle scents,
of water running clear.

How I fear height,
the towering structures
pressing on my freedom.

I long for mountain tops,
escaping expectations.

Join us over at dVerse for some wonderful poetry and good friends. The pub doors open wide at 1500 EST on Tuesday.