Autumn Storm

Dirt flecks spew the ground as I
dash through the puddles
like rivers that seep on tarmac,
water moulds my skin;
a black lava
mirroring the growling sky above.

My limbs flail through
a moment of stillness
as raindrops shudder,
waiting for that beam
of sunlight to illuminate
all in sparkling white and gold.

Dissolving into grey,
raining dust
as the heavens split their seams
humouring the belly
of a carnivorous beast
as the light fades.

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Copyright © 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)

The Parcel

4311804508_5e3cc7f43bI believe people are like parcels.

They start off nicely wrapped and taped

stamped with fresh ink;

destination marked in black biro.

Some are dropped from the van

others get crushed

as they leave the sorting office.

Scuffed on the floor

kicked and dented as their tape unravels;

words smudged

lying in a pool of rainwater.

Some don’t reach their destination

and countless are lost in transit.

The parcel that arrives at the end of its journey

is stronger;

branded with battle scars.

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Copyright © 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)

Inspiration #6

swirl-divider4Going Home

They say there’s a place where dreams have all gone
They never said where but I think I know
It’s miles through the night just over the dawn
On the road that will take me home

I know in my bones, I’ve been here before
The ground feels the same though the land’s been torn
I’ve a long way to go the stars tell me so
On this road that will take me home

Love waits for me ’round the bend, leads me endlessly on
Surely sorrows shall find their end and all our troubles will be gone
And I’ll know what I’ve lost and all that I’ve won
When the road finally takes me home

And when I pass by, don’t lead me astray
Don’t try to stop me, don’t stand in my way
I’m bound for the hills where cool waters flow
On this road that will take me home

~ Mary Fahl 

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All through my life these words have followed me, and sometimes I find myself repeating them due to the comfort they bring. Hopefully we will find this place, or at least have something closest to it, that we can call home.

Inspiration #4

il_570xN.495878438_nf94“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore –
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door –
“‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door –
Only this and nothing more.”

*

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.”

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~Stanza 1&2, from The RavenEdgar Allen Poe

Inspiration #2

Serenity - painting of a woman reading by Sherree Valentine Daines.

swirl-divider4“Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens.”

— Carlos Ruiz Zafon, The Shadow of the Wind