I am a complicated thing
I am metaphor and simile
I am strings of carefully chosen adjectives
I am freeform and feelings
I am lyrical pauses and dramatic imagery
I am deep truth and sharp honesty
I am unapologetic wit
I am rage and grace
I am vulnerability spot lit
I am raw and unpolished
I am real
I am a writer
I am a poem
-gws
Where I end is not where you begin
It's where the space between us lives
The space where we both can stretch and breathe as individuals
It's the space where my dreams manifest
The space where my thoughts untangle
The space where my mind gives birth to the words manifested as my heart beats
This is a sacred space for me
My moat
My wall
My well worn path in front of my garden gate
Where I end is not where you begin
It is the absence which makes the heart grow fonder
The place where longing pushes up blooms of desire
It is the ocean between our continents with endless depths to explore and mysteries to discover
It is the chapter break between each new story we write
It is the fence that protects us from each others' demons
It is the tower spire where we can see each others' kingdoms
It is the bridge over the pond whose shores we share
Where I end is not where you begin
It is the picnic blanket we sit on beneath oak branches on an early autumn day
The breeze dancing between words read aloud under an azure sky to a soundtrack of busy bees
It is the place where we stand eye to eye
It is the place my voice crosses to reach your ears and yours crosses to reach mine
It is the space where the music plays that we dance to
It is a precious space that hosts the alchemy which manifests where our boundaries touch
It is the breath
The heartbeat
The sigh
The birthplace of connection
The space where I end is not where you being
It is the holy place held by two individuals to nourish one partnership
If it is smothered, it's bounty cannot grow
And the relationship will whither and die from lack of air and light
Hold the space
Honor the space
Tend your boarders and I will tend mine
And we might just produce something prismatic and beautiful
In the space between you and me
-gws
The artist moon is calling The one that makes the blood restless And the mind discontent The one that replaces sleep With lightning storms of inspiration The moon raises the spirit of dreams unrealized And fantasies unlived It whispers of wild woods and scented winds Of primal needs and elaborate, lucid dreams I am held captive in the moon's tides Ebbing and flowing as I map my own constellations in its sky And so my mind churns My pen moves Channeling the lightning into art Painting the moon's energy with barely adequate words In a desperate attempt to contain the results of its demanding influence -gws
Please excuse the mess This house is under construction Held together by scotch tape and string The foundation is rotten and weak And there are bats in the attack Making a terrible mess of things At least the curtains are nice -gws
I wander amongst the damp earth and moss covered trees. I walk by the water where the stones are worn smooth and reflect on how life has polished and refined me. -gws
I am invited by these blank pages
to bear into the light
the secrets of my soul
my night visions and wild imaginings
fantastical whimsies
and deepest truths
born onto these waiting lines
magic erupting from my soul’s well
each babbling bubble brimming
with something eager to be fixed to paper
transfigured from infinite potential
into eternalized reality
a golem of ink and words
let loose to walk unknown paths along others’ souls
leaving quiet footsteps which will fade
like water on concrete after a rain
my eyes follow the pen strokes
they are rhythmic like the rising
and falling of meditative breath made manifest
casting a spell of freedom and release
-gws
Poetry is my word therapy
It is where I take the overwhelming abstractness of my emotions
And mold it into something comprehensible
Taking the feelings inside
And creating a scaffolding made of words on which to hang
Stanzas containing descriptions, analogies, and written visualizations
I am able to take what is chaotic and undefined
And give it structure and meaning
Like a potter transforms a formless lump of clay
Into a beautiful piece of finished pottery
A manipulation born of skill, practice, and talent
Which creates a piece that describes, conveys, and evokes
The essence of the soul on fire
-gws
I am made of witchy fire and Goddess light
I dance with fairies and sing down the rain
My soul grows wild with roses, sandalwood and sage
I am the storm and the calm
I am the raging wildfire and the tumultuous ocean
I am the sweet-smelling meadow and the forest cathedral
I am rooted in soft, sweet earth
I am dancing with twinkling starlight
I am the chasing wind in the trees
I am a cherished daughter of the Universe
I am a force of nature
-gws
I spill ink in controlled rivulets across an unstained page, setting down with curves and flourishes the tangled, unintelligible, intangible emotional illiteracies of my mind now transmuted into words and phrases, provoked into life, and now chained irrevocably into place by pen, hand, and mind.
-gws
Diving deep into the spirit well
Pulling deeply from the stillness there
Submerged in the star womb of the loving Mother
Surrendering my struggles into her loving arms
Hearing her lullaby whispering gently to me, “Be at peace.
You will fight again tomorrow, but for today, rest with me.”
-GWS
