Full-Spectrum Brilliance

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Disillusionment wraps warped tentacles in flesh

and drags her to Marianas Trench.

She’s been chasing the pot of gold

at the end of sopping rainbows,

concluding that

Life just doesn’t want to be lived,

not the way it was drawn

in her limited edition compilation of Grimm’s tales.

Submerged,

not daring to breathe,

she finally sees the Light –

and He is beautiful,

tangible,

with eyes as blue as the seas

and smile as dazzling as the lightning

that shames the dark.

A love so purely crimson,

a strength so gorgeously verdant,

a mind so violet in its superiority

wraps her with a golden glow,

a sunset’s blush.

She sees that

chasing rainbows is but

clutching broken bits,

segments split into infinite bands of separate strands,

and is captured,

enamoured,

mystified,

entranced

by the wholeness,

the boundless energy and electricity

of

Full-Spectrum brilliance…

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Mirror, Mirror

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Mirror, Mirror, frosted pane,

Frozen glass of snow’s domain,

Is this reflection true to me?

A frozen heart in frothy sea,

condemned to lie in icy form,

forgetful of a world that’s warm;

frigid with unbending stare,

becoming one with Arctic air.

Rewrite

It was rather a shock,

that first realization that the rice thrown for good luck

could become so much grist for the mill;

that life would not all be sunshine and roses

and petal-strewn paths in the shade,

but hard labour under gruelling taskmasters called Self and Ego.

Who invited these to the party?

Shock gave way to compromise,

lowered expectations,

a regular everyday Ordinary

that slunk around the house and infected you both

with its insipid stagger.

No Fairy Tale, this –

the Prince’s fine suit has turned to rags

in this land of perpetual midnight.

The Princess has packed away her ball-gown;

she has no need of it, for she has forgotten the steps,

and he doesn’t ask any more.

He shuffles to work

and performs his duties

with grim determination.

She busies herself in her career

and loses herself in motherhood’s frenzied tasks.

‘I promise’ – until Life is hard,

and Love is harder.

As Narrator of this tale,

I remind you –

you are still Royal Ones.

Pick up your pen and rewrite this Tale of Two Pities –

insert roses by the dozen,

heroes wearing your clothes,

and with a flourish, gift Stamina with flesh and bones.

Life is not about happy endings and ever after, after all –

it is laundry and hiccups,

storm clouds and backed up toilets,

bills and glints of joy in the fabric of the peasant.

Why look for magic

when it lives within your spirit?

Why wait for your knight in shining armour,

when he lies next to you in human skin?

This is your story –

it is never too late

for a re-write…

Tearing You Down

Detroit crumbles

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It’s time to tear you down.

You’ve executed well, and served Purpose faithfully.

Erected under inky skies, with window-curtained cheeks stained pink,

you covered rawness and hid inadequacy

within wooden walls.

Your shingles protected from prying eyes and prodding glances,

a roof of glass sharper than blade.

It’s time to tear you down…

You fought the Big Bad Wolf and the huffing and puffing

and chimney climbing and door knocking

screamed for strong structure.

But now,

you keep the Princess behind bars

and the Prince from the tower

and the Good Genie from granting your wishes.

And your blemishes multiply

in dawning daylight.

So –

I’m tearing you down,

plank by plank,

nail by nail,

gutter by shutter,

until all that’s left

is

me.