Poetry In Progress

 A couple of things that have been running around in my head lately.  One actually made its way almost complete onto paper before I got here with it, the other had to be extracted on the spot, and I still may tinker with them both in the future. 

Seasonal Changes
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
September, 2014

Already the light
Is from a different angle,
Has a different character,
A different feel.

Already the sun is less intense
The breeze a bit cooler,
The shadows longer.

Some of the trees are
Already beginning to
Turn a bit gold
Only on the edges.
It hasn't been cold enough
Yet to change them much.

Only a few brave marigolds
Hang on and bloom,
And the mums are starting
To dominate.

This is the season of not-quite.
Not really hot enough to be Summer,
Not nippy enough yet to be Autumn,
Even though the calendar says it is.

I am SO ready for the shorter, cooler days,
The symphony the wind in dry leaves plays,
The rough bluster of the weather
And being able to wear a sweater.

Listening To Silence
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
September 2014

And silence
Is the loudest
Thing there is.
Blocking out hope
Enforcing barriers
Covering all
And nothing.

But sometimes
It is necessary
So we can hear
The quiet voice
And learn more
Before we make
A choice.

Rather than say
A word that may harm,
Silence is at least
More warm.
It leaves a comfort
That a cruel word
Removes
Like a scab torn off
Of a healing wound.

Yet silence can also
Fester
Letting miscommunication
Linger
Breeding sadness, anger,
Misunderstanding.

So. 
To let Silence grow,
Or to break it?
Much depends
Upon the reason
It is there.
Listen to the Silence.
It will tell you,
Perhaps,
What sort it is. 
Or your heart will.

Random Inspiration
C.K. Armistead
September, 2014

So much potential
So many words
And ways to use them
And yet
I sit. 
Nothing finds its way
Out of the circles in my head
And onto a page.
The sense of power
And mystery
I have always felt
When there seems to be
A verse, a story,
An Image
Just about to reveal itself,
Just almost
Within my grasp.
The trepidation
That reaching for it
Will scare it away
That the lovely thing
Will vanish
The minute my mind
Sees it clearly.
Such fear holds me captive
Most of the time.
It takes courage
To reach out with words,
To try to capture
The beautiful, fleeting image
Or the pitiful dark pain,
The vision many have seen
And described, and shared
That still must be experienced
Oneself
In order to complete itself
In order to join us all
In this soup of human experience.
We are so alone, really.
Closed up and singular
In our own minds,
In our own bodies.
Yet,
We dream the same dreams
Often have the same nightmares.
We need to share them
And learn from each other's
Experience.
Seeing that one CAN
Capture the vision,
Survive the darkness,
Wake to the beautiful light,
We NEED that.
But it is often so very
Difficult
To formulate
Our own piece
Of the puzzle
To share.
Fear stops me.
Holds me captive
Like a fly in amber.
Caught
Frozen
Incomplete.