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november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind

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thoughts

Foggy

A film of moisture
covers the window
as silken filaments
of fog wrap around
the building,
hovering,
waiting
for my thoughts
to take on
the same vague quality.

 

© Novemberchild
Photo credit:  Edwin van Buuringen via Flickr
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The War Inside

I cannot even recall how many battles
I fought, but I know there were many.

I have spent hours, days, sometimes weeks
thoroughly planning ahead, gathering data
obsessively, checking and rechecking facts
until my head was spinning, and
my strategy was meticulously laid out.

I cringe at the waste of energy
as most battles never even took place,
yet in my mind, I already had felt
the pain of injuries I was expecting,
and had treated others cruelly,
some of them very dear to me.

And in the end, the most painful thing is
that I can never be sure
if the negative energy of my thoughts
reached my unsuspecting opponents.

 

© november child
Artist: Owen via Photobucket

 

Quiet

It’s quiet, too quiet.
Freed from the shackles
of preoccupation
with everyday activities,
thoughts raise storms.

Fractured abstract syntax
interrupted by obscure symbols,
too speculative
for immediate grasp,
yet eerily familiar.

This feeling
of just needing to retrieve
that one missing piece of the puzzle
to understand the mechanics
of the Universe.

 

 

 

© november child
photo credit: wallpapersafari.com
Abstract

Intrusion

Nobody knows me as well
as you do, but it is not enough,
bared to the bone is not enough,
nothing is ever enough, is it?

You always dig deeper
in search of jewels and pearls,
I share with no one else,
so you can add them to your crown.

I can feel the holes in my mind
where your curiosity extracted
parts of me, the scraps and bits
that caught your interest.

And I wonder what will happen,
when my neural pathways dry up,
no longer retrieving juicy details,
when I have nothing left to give…

 

© november child
photo credit: EskiPaper.com
Arid
Juicy

Purgatory

‘How’s purgatory?’  he asks,
his pointed ears twitching
with curiosity, his purple eyes
fixed on a point behind my irides
in his usual, disconcerting way.
He rocks back and forth with this
strange, rhythmic movement,
a sure sign of his impatience.

‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve never
been there.’
I feel uncomfortable
talking about this. I hadn’t planned
on doing purgatory. I’m more the
heading-straight-for-heaven
kind of person.
With him, you never know if it’s
just nosiness or rather a hint of
what is to come.

‘Funny.’  He giggles, he always
thinks I’m hilarious when I’m at
my most serious. He notices my
consternation, his laughter trails
away and his little face turns serious.
‘You do know where you are, don’t you?’
That said, he pops out of existence
into whatever spatial dimension
he calls home.

 

© november child
photo credit: wikimedia commons
Rhythmic

Business As Usual

You’re dressed up again
in your corporate uniform.
Grey three-piece suit today,
striped tie, light blue shirt,
the upcoming board meeting
already on your mind.

Frowning slightly
you ignore breakfast
and hit the keyboard,
rechecking numbers,
last changes in your presentation,
predicting questions, preparing answers.

You’re hyping yourself
as if for a sports event.
Work has become another arena
where you go for the competition
with a killer instinct,
always aiming high, in for the win.

My thoughts have taken on
a momentum of their own,
spinning in their usual erratic circles
where all I can think of is,
you look damn sexy in a suit
and I’d really like to
make you late for work.

© november child
photo credit:  Craig Garner via unsplash.com
in response to: The Sunday Whirl Wordle # 277

Echo

Your words still echo in my mind

your touch still echoes on my skin

I wait for them to subside
so I can remember
who I used to be

 

© november child

photo:  artist unknown

Echo

Tranquility

Recurring thoughts
have carved
deep canyons
into my mind,
eroding
my tranquility.

 

© november child

photo credit: curtesy of Pix to Words

in response to: Tranquility ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #57

Cotton Candy

I sense the sweetness
floating
through your mind
in white cotton candy clouds.
I cast my net
to catch and keep
those delicious saccharine flakes.

I detect the sentiment
threading
through your thoughts
with tender caressing strands.
I catch the ends,
unravel the knots and keep
those delicate silken bonds.

© november child
Photo credit: photo (cropped) by Gerhard Jan Nauta via flickr

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