s.d.t poetry

[scripted-ink]

don’t give way

when you misplace one thing and everything begins to fall out of place in a mind buzzing, pulse racing kind of way

don’t give way.

remember to take a step towards what you can and never let mishaps tear up the gift of day or deter you from lending a helping hand

- s.d.t // 9.24.17

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9/11

the thing about the collision is that it happened so fast the thing about its impact is that all of it seems to last the way concrete cries continue to amplify the  heaviness of the sky and the thousands  of hearts that bled continue to soak  through the cement We will never  forget. We  will never  forget.

- s.d.t // 9.11.17

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close

some doors slam close others in slow motion close to the way bare feet approach  the place where the sea and seashore meet each receding tide tiptoeing to a close before rolling back in and drawing you close

- s.d.t // 9.10.17

[scripted-ink]

if an experience is what we make of it then why do we so often forget to take in the beauty of it all and make something of our breath?

for everyone tonight (s.d.t // 9.5.17)

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some roads

some roads change as you go; diverging into lanes fast and slow. other roads stay the same; pine trees, feathers, ferns, and stone all guiding you as you set your pace and grow. - s.d.t // 7.24.17

[scripted-ink]

free to be

the breeze the way it ripples boundless and free indescribably whole within the patient realms of simplicity

free to be

the reflection on the surface of a lake cradling the entirety of the sky in both its brightest and darkest states

- s.d.t // 7.23.17

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prisoner set free

behind bars of invisibility once a prisoner; a dreamer nonetheless of the sunrise/sunset. now a dancer for life; boundless and free.

- s.d.t // 7.12.17

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flying through lightning

what more  is a lightning bolt  than an electric, ephemeral ring that proves itself eternal  upon impact igniting flame

- s.d.t // 7.8.17

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fabric of complexity

i spend days ironing the fabric of my words back and forth the motion seems linear until I find scrap pieces of once pleated skirts ripped at the seams torn between what is and what should be be careful not to choke on the fabric of complexity - s.d.t // 7.1.17

[scripted-ink]

book bath

I want to spend these summer evenings bathing in the presence of books; let the words glide over my skin as bubbles float full of similes and imagery then pop! at times unexpectedly.

I want to drain the meaning from every page then dry off with the comfort of knowing that at any time in any place I can fill the tub and pick up right where I left off.

- s.d.t // 6.23.17

[scripted-ink]

resilient woman

I once was asked if I thought I was pretty I shrugged with not much of a reply how easy it is to be tricked into wishing to shrink in size ask me today if I think I’m pretty I’ll say it’s in the arch of my foot in the strength of my calves traveling the circumference of the world plus a mile and a half I’m a woman resiliently. resilient woman, that’s me.

- s.d.t // 6.20.17

Inspired by Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman”

[scripted-ink]

By lifting others This is how we rise Like golden lights Like fireflies in flight We rise

lights (s.d.t)

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awake listening

in the morning i lay awake listening to the sounds of nature awakening and i wonder what kinds of sounds i make in the rustling early morning

- s.d.t // 6.5.17

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Until

Until the petal has forgiven The sole that has crushed it It shall seethe with pain; its beauty marred, disgraced.

Until the earth has forgiven The siren sounds of falling trees It shall quake with sorrow; its children lost, remembered.

Until the silence has forgiven The thunder that has shattered it It shall consume absolutely; its quietude destroyed, forgotten.

Until the sun has forgiven The mountain that has swallowed it It shall burn with vengeance; its strength recognized, restored.

A collaboration with the lovely @kixxie (Her words are italicized)

Thank you @writerscreed for the challenge!

6.2.17

[scripted-ink]

waiting

always waiting for something the way leaves await the gentle breeze the way bare feet await the edge of the sea

I wonder what it would be like to speak the language of the sea or to become the breeze or some other entity that isn’t always waiting for something

- s.d.t // 5.16.17

[theolivebird]

Or the breeze cajoles the leaf to fly; and the sea invites your tip-toeing to its edge; so it may be that others are waiting for you too.

[2slow-2poison-blog]

Like an answer That was given Without a question.

Like a location That was found Without a direction.

I too, Wish that I could Be this entity that You’re wishing

[scripted-ink]

lavender grey

if tomorrow dissipates at a faster rate than the time it takes to blend pastel purples on a page let your rage stain the sky in clouds of lavender grey

if yesterday’s distance bruises your present state let your pain be the rain that enhances the colors of today; that sifts through space then soil, then petals of lavender grey

- s.d.t // 5.21.17

[scripted-ink]

Currently in this intense state of self analysis where I’m trying to make sense of the human kaleidoscope through which I view the world.

s.d.t // 5.5.17