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The Imaginarium:  A creative wasteland

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The mermaid's oyster

11/13/2009

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It's time to clean the house, she said
and I looked on with pride
as years of dust and scattered thoughts
were presently swept from mind.
Though little bits of half-eaten things were
sprinkled amongst the cobwebs,
She didn't stop or stoop to examine
whence those old distractions led.
Oh ho! she cried when a pearl she spied
Remembered a lost love past,
But with a flick, and not even a flinch
It went to the mounting pile of trash!
And then what wondrous speed she took
with gutting her old space!
Acquaintances and memories
were with one stroke erased!
Then when the house looked fine and shined
Though felt an empty shell
She went to her pile of broken things
and burned it all to hell…
And by the glow of a thousand burdens
suddenly set to rights,
She bathed and laughed and danced and prayed
in the crackling golden light.
And I wept with joy to see her face
Shone renewed determination
As she flexed her muscles and stretched her fins
To prepare for life's new destinations.
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    Nakedness

    For many years, I hid my poetry and writings.  It would seem that fear of judgment was an obstacle, the shadow of which I was all-too complacent to hide in.     

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