Static Days

Turnback Thursday;
One year ago……

Chimera Poetry

Another morning walk to the train station
only to stand mannequin-like on the platform
I feel the train approaching 
and the wave of movement starts  
but I stay still
letting the people break around me
I don’t go forward.
I don’t go backward.
I am inert
and my mind has gone underground
while the trains pass one after another…
I stand at the window 
and listen to the hush breaking under the weight of the birds song
and gaze at the sunrise painting the sky
and I should gather that gold into my arms 
to carry through the day
leaving light in the spaces I move through
But all I feel is sunset
I am sinking beneath the edge
and darkening
and there is only farewell in the music my heart beats in time with…
These are static days for me
 I am unchanging in a…

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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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