The Chapter Closed

Meandering musing; poem below!

I’m not a big fan of change.

Mostly, because women’s pants don’t often come with pockets and I hate having to carry a bag; it’s inconvenient if you’re not into bags and it’s inconvenient, but slightly less annoying, if you are into bags.

With pocketless women’s pants, where are phones and jingly, coin-filled wallets supposed to go, save for carrying a bag? Why do I have fake pockets, that look like real pockets, that would be real pockets, but for seamingly one easy step? Where am I supposed to put my hands when I want to look like a cowboy? Why am I being denied this opportunity for coolness? I could go on.

I’m also not a massive fan of change in the broader sense of exploring the unknown because you have to. Environmental change scares me.

Recent events have kept my mind abuzz at night imagining how awesome seals would look like if they weren’t grey. Give me fluoro seals! Red, green, blue! Give me sparkly indigo ones and stripey turquoise ones!

Moving along, erm, recent events have also turned my mind to the idea of change and dealing with change. I have had various ideas about dealing with change—they all have something to do with cake, coffee, and maybe ice-cream. Three quite essential items to solving the bewildering array of day-to-day dilemmas I face.

An example, of the kind of dilemmas, comes to mind. It happened two nights ago. I was in a quandary: kill a scorpion that had found its way into my room and sleep soundly; or entertain the tiny chance of it not being an average boring scorpion, but a freakin’ amazing one, that would bite me, thereby allowing me to become Scorpion Woman, and reap the benefits of my new found abilities. It sounded more cool in my head.

I decided on killing it. Midnight bloodlust aside, my decision had its roots in a tasty midnight coffee. That beverage allowed me an extra hour awake to research scorpion powers. Armed with newly-acquired knowledge, I wasn’t exactly keen. Scorpions just aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, uh, not that people crack them up to be anything. I’d rather take my chances on getting bitten by spider. Careerwise I’d be set, I mean, web designing is where it’s at with those abilities, right?

I really digress.

One thing led to another and I ended up trying to write a good poem. (The keyword in that sentence is ‘trying’.) It isn’t a format I’ve used much of in my posts, but it is something I enjoy that I want to make a go of in future.

This piece is a little dire, I feel; a little reflective, and a little inspired by the past.

Finally, I give a certain Knight a shoutout for his part in entertaining a few of my early attempts at poetry! And for his general Knightliness. I raise you, if you are reading this, meaded reader. ☺️

#suddenlyinspired ☕


The Chapter Closed

Bricked teeth.
Sandblasted skin.
Ice foisted into fisted hands.
The hurt, of intrusive thoughts between temples.

A present coddled
unfinished, wrapped;
the haste unwarranted.
The series of trials,
just entertainment
to the idle empowered.
Dissolved like aspirin in water.
The closure, she sought.

the intensity,
the wait,
the promise.
Blissful flows meeting ebbs of reality.
Impassioned actions,
empathy decayed,
magnified and mercurial.
The addiction, her vice.

Waves devoured
the lines in the sand,
the castles she built,
the shells he collected,
the footsteps imprinted in fun and foolery.
The chapter, she mourned as it birthed stillborn.

Stained and damaged pages,
bloodied words.
But the tale:
pristine and untouched.
Time slowed and sped.
Prized past moments
rehashed and retold
to supplant
the absence of
new memories,
impossible affections.
The fantasy, she suffered reliving.

In the wake of the chapter shut:
giddiness and laughter.
She grieved time. And he:
the seed, he tried to grow.

Parking lot emptied.
for distance and speed,
for inroads,
for freedom
fear drove away.
Not a race,
not a chase to end,
but a journey, inspired in,
the car, he once warmed for her.

Outstanding green meadows,
the home of ambition,
her guide
through the seasons.
Winter rains
washed away inhibition,
gave life to his quest,
bathed her in joy.
The memory, too perfect, a reminder for her.

Tea with milk and two sugars—not one,
and jam scones—blackberry not strawberry,
With butter, no cream!
A penchant for polo,
sneakers on weekends,
jeans ripped at the knees.
His gaze, her weakness.
His voice, her lullaby.
Dangerous fragments,
hidden splinters,
immovable stray remnants:
emotional triggers.
Things of him,
that bothered,
that weighed on,
that toyed with,
the heart, he broke.

The chapter,
a bunker door sealed shut.
A necessary, momentary, evil
to dull the smile,
the swing in her step,
the glow on her skin,
meant for him,
when feeling blinded her.
Within safe shadows of night,
the truth, she conveyed.

Puffy red eyes,
and silent wishes,
seen and heard,
by sympathetic eyes and ears;
those of the shining moon,
the mother of oceans.
Her consciousness moved to rest,
in the comfort of clouds,
as her aching body the moon caressed.
‘Unravel, release, and notice:
The tides, they change.’

Pearls restored,
Pinked skin, the blush of excitement.
Palms flat, facing the heavens, gifted, receiving.
Protective white light:
engulfing a beach of dreams;
loosing the past into seas of serenity;
energising and
pouring esteem and equinimity into the lost.
The chapter, closed, her page turned.

The next, a new, chapter of change.

© enchirist

8 thoughts on “The Chapter Closed

    1. Thanks a bunch, bluebell! Cheers for your superkind comment and thrilled that you identified with it.

      Haha, I getcha with the existential thoughts. I chew on things, and try to make sense of the world as I experience it, a lot.

      Perhaps, it is because I am but a mere piece of conscious, ancient stardust, bound in this form, to exist in my mind and in my being; and it is my fate to think such thoughts in my nights and my days… I believe, today and now, the ball may already be rolling, haha. ☺️

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts, John. 🙂 I really like the interpretation.

      This was a bleak one and the dfficulties with closure and the sense of, I suppose, responsibility in some ways are definitely themes.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Cheers, Silver, rant on—completely relevant to my post!

      Fake pockets disappoint and unduly enrage me. I’d much rather practical pants to a pair of possibly-more-fashionable, pocketless pants. Sadly a good pair of the former are a rare find.

      Pants that could be improved so much, by so little. #petpeeve

      Liked by 1 person

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