eugenfrédéricdaniel

It’s the essence
of passion:
the drive within
creative expression
that seduces me

into quivering
states of leaking flaccid ineptitude

within this mental posture
of artist’s mind

neither age,
nor logic,
nor formlessness

holds paralytic
the import
of so cherished
the left-brain world’s:
linear time,
blood-letting competition,
herculean feats of self-imposed deadlines,
and
stuff-gathering

where beating down
a greedily awaiting
death’s door
does not do

and our lives are ours
to live
with no rule,
but
to love one another’s creation

Contentment’s Guest

Like a child
being pushed
for the first time
on a swing
falling up and back and out
into space
gulping at cool air

caught

between screams of terror
and chortling delight

diaphragm drawn

taut

pushing heart and lungs
forth
ever closer to surging

from pallid lips
pursed
with anguished anticipation
of unknowable ends
to anxious dreams

He falls back to earth
contented
to regain
reassuring reconnection
with familiar
maternal
joyous, laughing
loving arms
and womb-like
repositioning
to gravity’s terrestrial pull

Joy is
contentment’s
welcomed, beloved guest
simply a lodger
lingering longer
than expected

Spring

Rousing from sleep

I know not
what
ever
may come

This day
yet known
to none

Pushing me back
Like a child on a swing
Into free falling
A world of anxious dreams

Awakening

I understand
Within

Acceptance

of all
that simply is

Lies low the license

To live
Spontaneously

With abandon:
Freedom from
Stunted
Spurious and cowering
Segregated Self

I am lured
Outward from my ursidae den
By optimistic
Curiosity
Into the dawning season

With greater expectation
From living out loud

Like the unmistakable
Soothing rumble
Of a distant spring thunder