Phillip’s latest reveries

  • Pinching

    November 12, 2019 by

    I am stuck
    at the beginning,
    pinching
    at rice like
    the expectant mother
    pausing
    out of breath
    mid-stair.
    The other side is often pregnant.

    Intention grows
    even in
    chilled winds,
    germinating while
    we fixate elsewhere,
    though
    I don’t always recognize
    its birth.
    Tomorrow takes its own word for granted.

    Ambition shoves us
    forward,
    though I wish
    I could
    stop long enough
    to admire
    the track, rushing,
    stuck at the
    start.
    Light thaws in its own time.

    read more Pinching

  • Colors at dawn

    November 11, 2019 by

    What does one say to a sky
    glowing in scarlet brilliance
    at this early hour, blinking sleep
    casting long shadows over dreams
    half remembered, if all?

    These vermilion pigments dance
    among clouds, warming to the idea
    of another day and whatever
    unwraps the blues of normalcy,
    mundane. Routine.

    I’ll not let this complexion slip
    to ordinary, even as trees
    envelop us in shade, days creep
    shorter, and shadows — those

    dark false realities that smooth
    us out to remove a dimension
    on chilly, fallow ground — lurk
    behind but never catch us.

    read more Colors at dawn

  • Just breathe

    November 7, 2019 by

    You look confused, eyes tangled
    in bewilderment, unsure what comes
    next. Flustered words slowly swim
    upstream, tangled in the waterweeds
    and obscuring the direction
    of the current sweeping
    your feet out from underneath.

    Breath. Collect your thoughts — they are
    but two-cent pieces taking
    up space in a piggy bank you had
    hoped fattened by now, or full enough
    at least for the both of us.
    I’ll be here when you’re ready.

    read more Just breathe

  • One perspective

    November 6, 2019 by

    The caged butterfly beats wings
    against captivity, hostage to forces
    beyond the walls imprisoning it.
    Arresting (and attractive) orange
    (dotted with black) elegance —
    I am enchanted by such
    spunky thrashing against its netted bondage,
    beauty bound for something more.

    What makes me move on past
    the incongruous scene (set behind
    an inhibiting screen) is the thought
    (or is it hope?) that the lattice serves as shield,
    protecting the gentle innocence within,
    armor against the elements — a matter
    of perspective authentically mine,
    beset with doubts until I’m out of view.

    read more One perspective

  • In the black

    November 5, 2019 by

    What mystery lives in the black,
    those dark corners where light
    fears to enter, abandoning
    sharp edges for the comfort
    of round sides and smooth edges.

    The charade may encircle us (eyes
    blind the gust of puzzles pointing us
    in the wrong direction) binding us
    to this place in knots of fear
    that only the unrevealed can tie.

    I choose to embrace the dark,
    the baffling ambivalence that bubbles
    when we feel underwater, though
    the lake remains half full
    whatever lurks beneath.

    read more In the black

  • The in between

    November 5, 2019 by

    I revel in the in between, the moments
    that cling to my swiftly failing memory
    like a sock from the dryer that refuses to unhand
    my shirt — something electric to embrace
    the shocking windfall overtaking me.

    I feel fortune’s stroke in this,
    a lamp post spotlighting those moments —
    unforgettable dots on a map
    they blur past scurrying to the flashier dots,
    leaving the in between her to us.

    read more The in between

  • Serenity Now? – Phillip Knight Scott

    November 5, 2019 by

    Originally posted on Marysa Writes:
    Hello Hello! I know, I am terribly, horribly late in posting the winner for this contest. My only excuse is the business of life! Congratulations Phillip, with ‘Serenity Now?’ We are all connected. The woman in line at the grocery store too tired to say no to one more question. The young man scanning the Skittles his arm a pendulum absentmindedly marking time. And me at attention with the world while my phone shows zero bars and I long to march on. We all crave serenity. The woman thinking of a euphoric cacophony of silence that a mouthful of candy may bring. The young man clocked out and finding ecstasy absent the din of beeps, glorying in his moment. And me raptured from this world and returned home where my wifi vigorously absolves me. ?

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