The Wild Places

There are wild places
in every human heart
sometimes mere steps away
from our well traveled tracks

overgrown by brambles
unkept promises
still reflect the sun when it hits them right
each brief blinding flicker to the sight unseeing
indicating
a might have been

growing into might have beings
called monsters only because
too genuine to encompass lies
in lives of civil compromise
they are on the outside of our inside
alive with parallel possibility
like lithe gazelles bounding free
from the raking claws of our hunting pride

there are wild places
in every human heart—
can we cultivate them
not to desecrate them
but to integrate them?

until made wild ourselves
by the promises we've reclaimed
we are home at last
in every wild place of our present
at peace with every wild place of our past


Witnessed: 8/21/2012,
while on the way home
Copyright 2012, MadelineB
   

Those wild places in my mind
I go to see all kinds
Mysterious and deliriously funny
Fire drenched dragons and soft bunnies
Nature's canvas colored and bright
Crazy painted pictures unrefined

Inspiration, a tune I ride
finding those from which others hide

Cindi

Few of us indeed
have the courage one must need
to practice speech or diction
in the land of writing fiction
but if I had such moxy
I would be both wry and foxy
were I to follow the lead
of my dragon riding, bunny flopping friend
Cindi you've enough wildness within
for ten

Oh, she writes and rhymes
More words than I'll ever find.
Words flow from my fingers
and they're not all that smart.
They create what they remember
but it does come from the heart.

No, Cindi cares not to meter
nor find words she can match.
Sometimes she finds rhythm
or a phrase that can catch
an interested eye.



Cindi

Oh,
I put the dog in doggerel
I drank the rum in rhyme
I'll slap good taste on the shoulder
and belly up to the bar a second time!

My verses are like curses
I swear they're growing worses
I shall be needing hearses
to carry my meaning home

when iambic pentameter
no longer fits my diameter
fattened by the fatuousness
of my verbal excess mess

my old skirts pinch and hurt
so with mumus I shall flirt
or the verbal equivalent
flash boom bam post sent

Oh,
I put the dog in doggerel
I drank the rum in rhyme
I'll slap good taste on the shoulder
and belly up to the bar a second time!

-MadelineB