Fairyland

Walking down the mushroom path
avoiding perfumed roses
colored trees
skies on the bottom
ground on top
I wonder where I am.
Topsy turvy 
how do I go
left
right
straight up the center
head cocked
I feel myself grow.
Staring down
giantess I have become
lost in a world
that mayhap I created?
Watch waterfalls flow upward
sprinkling mists upon
vast greenery
a home sweet home
I feel it in my heart.
Flying forward
wings erupt 
I surge towards the sky
spiraling downwards
euphoria 
smiles
giggles erupt
delicious chills
as the breeze caresses
bared skin.
Skim across purple water tops.
Skip through frosted fields.
Stroll down mysterious paths.
And now I ask……
riddle me this
riddle me that
who/what am I?
 
January 6/19
Photo by Simon Matzinger on Unsplash
Advertisements

Chaos

Chaos.
Beautiful colors
gold
mauve
crimson
dance around my arching body.
Weaving my fingers
colored trendles pulled near
I make a tether
a leash
to keep me close
to Chaos.
With Chaos
I find reason
I find understanding
I find truth.
With Chaos
I cry
I rage
I forgive.
Chaos
rainbow colors
twisting
tying
pulling me close.
A lover of color and light.
Sept. 29/18
Photo by Petra Brýdlová on Unsplash

I went walking

I went for a walk after walking T to school this morning. It was crisp and quiet. As I walked along listening to the silence I realized that I was looking forward and upward. I have spent so long looking at the ground I forget about the breathtaking beauty. I met the guy up top on his walk. The rest spoke to me.

Madness Refused

***Picture downloaded from Facebook. Work is credited to @treeowl
Tis madness that has grappled my mind
wrestling to submission
the good
the wonder of life
to a black void of nothingness.
Wrapping me in black strands of goo
sticky holding tight
the evil
the abuse I survived
will not chain my mind for long.
Gasping in great breaths of air
crystal clear,
crisp in my lungs
expel the tar
that sinks in,
like an anchor
on my soul.
Rip free from the cocoon
that has stifled my voice
hidden it
refused it
for oh so long;
and on trembling wings
spattered with paint
from all spectrums of color
I will soar above
reclaiming myself once more.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
Feb. 9/18