Barefoot Poetry

SS Matthews


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Gossamer Whimsy

Once half-full
or conversely vacant
fearful of change yet admonishing stagnation
the glass rests paradoxically empty
silent as infinity or the space
between these ears
where nature
in despising a void
might seek to refill
with understanding more substantial
than gossamer wings
and whimsy.

SSMatthews 4/25/18

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Driftwood

A ceaseless current rolls its course as surface oscillations-
archetypes of the human mind, in endless fascination,
seek the swifter water where the elemental flows.

Barnacles bleached and drying cling to underlying form,
all my expectations wash like driftwood to the shore,
tossed to beach and dying in the aftermath of storm-

One more piece of flotsam set adrift from isle to isle,
powers unperturbed propel this raft of dreams I ride.

Overhead a field of blue, a blazing, sullen sky,
erases known horizons,
conjures islands through refraction,
life is liquid in reflection,
on a string of faceless landfalls spread
in giant strides apart.


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Sunrise

Deeply introspective images of an inner landscape
barrenly, quietly, screaming for truth,
honesty and self-love. Hope is faint,
not feign, but fading, falling
as the last petal of a scorched rose.
The tower of psyche, the last bastion of ego,
crumbles in a wash of acid tears.

Still, what remains is tomorrow.
A new sunrise
buries the night freshly rinsed in despair.
It is a glorious sunrise.
Watch her burn!

SS Matthews improv