This Poem is a Spider, a Scream, a Regret

This poem is a small spider.

This poem is a woman screaming.

This poem is shame and regret.

This poem is a tickle on my shoulder

just as I’m stepping into the shower.

This poem is brown, with radiating legs.

This poem is a small spider.

This poem is me screaming

(I always do, I can’t help it)

then jumping up and down to shake it off.

This poem is a grown woman screaming.

This poem is a woman stepping out of the shower

looking for the spider’s landing-place (surely it ran?)

then seeing in a corner its drowned body.

This poem is her shame and regret.

This poem is a small spider meaning no harm.

This poem is a woman screaming and not thinking.

This poem is shame and regret, and a failure of courage.

This poem was written for Poets United's Midweek Motif: Courage.

This poem is in the form Boomerang Metaphors, invented by Hannah Gosselin.

This Poem is Healing, Recovery and Light

This poem is an instrument of healing.

This poem is a recipe for recovery.

This poem is filled and surrounded with light.

This poem must be read with an open heart.

You can take it into you, into that heart,

then let it spread it throughout your body.

Now see it extend as a cloak to embrace you.

This poem is an instrument of healing.

This poem is a set of instructions

which you can follow step by step.

Try not to vary the key ingredients.

You want the taste just right, and the nutrients.

This poem is a recipe for recovery.

This poem is soft yet radiant.

It is all-pervasive, but you can direct it.

Look at the colour. It is blueish-white.

Or is it in fact whitish-blue? Ah yes!

This poem is filled and surrounded with light.

This poem is yours, your instrument of healing.

This poem is a secret recipe I share for your recovery.

This poem, if you let it, will fill and surround you with light.

This poem is an example of Hannah Gosselin’s Boomerang Metaphors.

This poem was written for Susan’s ‘Recovery/Healing’Midweek Motif at Poets United.

“Everything in creation, everything in the universe moves in the flow of Light. This subtle Light has a natural stream of flow in your circulatory system. The circulatory system of your body is a river of Light. It is a very concrete flowing fluid, and the Light that is pouring in moves into your system to guide you into the flowing current of new life that is changing your whole physical body.”

–  DivineMotherOnline.net

This Poem Is a Cup, a Woman, a Late Hour

This poem is a warm cup of cocoa.

This poem is a woman resting.

This poem is a late hour alone.

The cup has been drunk

as she leans against her pillow.

She has almost drained it now.

Its warmth comforts her.

This poem is a warm cup of cocoa.

She decided to come to bed early.

She has propped the pillow

to support her back, so

she can pretend there's no pain.

This poem is a woman resting.

Her eyelids droop. She ought to

close them, she had such good intentions.

But the poem has overtaken her.

She has no-one to tell her, 'Go to sleep.'

This poem is a late hour alone.

This poem is a warm cup of bedtime cocoa.

This poem is a woman resting on her pillow.

This poem is night, is reflection, is a late hour alone.

 At 'imaginary garden with real toads' we are asked to revisit an earlier challenge. I chose Hannah Gosselin's Boomerang Metaphors.  

Thispost is alos linke dto Poets United's Poetry Pantry #262

This Poem is Forest, Ocean, Air

This poem is a forest of green leaves.

This poem is an ocean without plastic.

This poem is air with no chemical vapours.

This poem wants to let you know

that the shade of green of the leaves tells you 

the state of the tree: old or young, ill or well,

and how close to dying. Then you can see

the condition of the whole forest.

This poem is a thick forest of bright green leaves.

This poem wants to make you remember

a time when the oceans were sparkling clean,

home only to fish and coral, rock and reed

and the great sea mammals that roam the earth —

a time when rubbish would sink and disintegrate.

This poem is a clean ocean without any plastic.

This poem means to show you

a sky without a chemtrail, air with no smog.

This poem indicates, with a vast gesture,

air of a clarity you never saw in your whole lifetime.

This is what air was created to be.

This poem is clear air with no trace of chemical vapours.

This poem is a thick, impossible forest no-one chops or burns.

This poem is a clean, impossible ocean free of any floating islands of plastic.

This poem is clear, impossible air from which we have eradicated

all traces of chemical vapours. ... This poem is impossible.

Written for Poets United's Midweek Motif, Sustainability. The form is Boomerang Metaphors, invented by Hannah Gosselin — with my own extra twist at the end.