deepundergroundpoetry.com
Midnight Walk
the air fills its icy lungs,
huffing at the tartness -
disrespected once again
by Winter’s lack of regard
for personal space;
my old brown boots
scraping salted pavement,
their hollow voices
echoing
- always getting the last word -
against cheap siding
lining these boring rows
of hastily-built garages
every experience has value
wise words
from a wise friend
Pain teaches me mercy;
it’s hard to mete out
the ragged blades
of punishment
without bleeding
a little myself;
all those scars
eventually
make it hard
to form a proper fist
Loss brings perseverance;
the world doesn’t stop
roaring through
the universe
whenever mine
stops spinning;
life is perpetual motion
and I’ve learned to grieve
sharply and fully,
alongside
a basket full of hangers
on laundry day;
this is a blessing
Mistakes are the gift of grace;
I can’t look shortcomings
directly in their downcast eyes
without catching
a glimpse
of my own staring back;
compassion is the horn
for fitting another’s
too-small shoes
onto my own feet
I choose to be grateful for the lessons
the moon enjoys
a bubble bath
among frothy,
rose-dipped clouds
the stars are giving her
sly eyes,
winking at her beauty;
I feel so small
under her
knowing smile
huffing at the tartness -
disrespected once again
by Winter’s lack of regard
for personal space;
my old brown boots
scraping salted pavement,
their hollow voices
echoing
- always getting the last word -
against cheap siding
lining these boring rows
of hastily-built garages
every experience has value
wise words
from a wise friend
Pain teaches me mercy;
it’s hard to mete out
the ragged blades
of punishment
without bleeding
a little myself;
all those scars
eventually
make it hard
to form a proper fist
Loss brings perseverance;
the world doesn’t stop
roaring through
the universe
whenever mine
stops spinning;
life is perpetual motion
and I’ve learned to grieve
sharply and fully,
alongside
a basket full of hangers
on laundry day;
this is a blessing
Mistakes are the gift of grace;
I can’t look shortcomings
directly in their downcast eyes
without catching
a glimpse
of my own staring back;
compassion is the horn
for fitting another’s
too-small shoes
onto my own feet
I choose to be grateful for the lessons
the moon enjoys
a bubble bath
among frothy,
rose-dipped clouds
the stars are giving her
sly eyes,
winking at her beauty;
I feel so small
under her
knowing smile
Published 5th Nov 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 11
reading list entries 9
comments 14
reads 312
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
5th Nov 2020 10:58am
Wow, fantastic! The lovely images of a moonlit, chilly walk are perfect bookends for the profound wisdom you've shared here. Bravo!
5th Nov 2020 2:51pm
Anonymous
5th Nov 2020 1:10pm
Nothing snaps you back into the present like a walk in the brisk. It's the only place we can truly take stock of our blessings. This is a beautiful offering of warmth to carry us through Winter when walls of framed memories begin closing in on us moreso than usual. Thank you for sharing this.
5th Nov 2020 2:52pm
That icy air tends to bring those memories sharply into sharp focus. Thank you 💜
5th Nov 2020 3:17pm
Stunning, Luna! Fantastic message woven throughout. I agree about the icy air! That we have a warm place to go is blessing enough when so many don't.
5th Nov 2020 4:04pm
5th Nov 2020 9:14pm
There's so much emotion and hidden meaning underlying this brisk walk... You really painted quite the scene. I loved the personification of winter, and thought it was a clever way to express the pain of a loss. It's cold and biting at times, but maintains a bittersweet beauty throughout.
"Pain teaches me mercy;
it’s hard to mete out
the ragged blades
of punishment
without bleeding
a little myself;
all those scars
eventually
make it hard
to form a proper fist"
This was an especially powerful verse... The more we experience pain, the more compassion we are capable of feeling and understanding the pain of others.
Great writing, Luna... an incredible tapestry of emotions and words. Well done ❤️
"Pain teaches me mercy;
it’s hard to mete out
the ragged blades
of punishment
without bleeding
a little myself;
all those scars
eventually
make it hard
to form a proper fist"
This was an especially powerful verse... The more we experience pain, the more compassion we are capable of feeling and understanding the pain of others.
Great writing, Luna... an incredible tapestry of emotions and words. Well done ❤️
5th Nov 2020 9:20pm
6th Nov 2020 8:27pm
Nice to meet you lady hawk:)
I absolutely adore this wonderful piece of art you have written here . It’s chock-full of vivid imagery. I am in love with your pen Poetess!
Considered yourself followed LOL
Listed
Zazzles 👍🏻
>>> disrespected once again Genius!
by Winter’s lack of regard
for personal space;
my old brown boots
scraping salted pavement,
their hollow voices
echoing
- always getting the last word -
against cheap siding
lining these boring rows
of hastily-built garages
I absolutely adore this wonderful piece of art you have written here . It’s chock-full of vivid imagery. I am in love with your pen Poetess!
Considered yourself followed LOL
Listed
Zazzles 👍🏻
>>> disrespected once again Genius!
by Winter’s lack of regard
for personal space;
my old brown boots
scraping salted pavement,
their hollow voices
echoing
- always getting the last word -
against cheap siding
lining these boring rows
of hastily-built garages
6th Nov 2020 9:18pm
7th Nov 2020 6:05pm
Pain transforms into power. Here is the living truth of it. Gorgeously intimate, perfect proportion of voice and details, haptics, diatribe and milieu. Roar light into darkness and watch it shrink.
7th Nov 2020 8:03pm
7th Nov 2020 11:52pm
8th Nov 2020 00:35am
