Chimera Poetry


white wind
wind of power
of change
breath of God
of spirit
of might
rolling across the nightblack spaces
breathing light into being
calling the stars by name
blowing across the vastness re-forming
and re-contouring
bringing the purpose into focus
white wind
wind of power
I want to be caught up into that mighty storm
I want to harness it
to speak my will and word into the fabric of reality
I want to spread my hands and scatter light into the worlds
I want to feel the wind growing
building within me
and watch the exalted bow before it
before me
white wind
wind of power
I want to possess you and be possessed
being merely human
all I am capable of
is the whistling of a bitter little tune
and the mightiest of winds merely blows through my hair.

*artwork by frances ann low*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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