Musing #4

pick me up
read me like a book
collect my whispers
carry them gracefully
to the nearest lake
let the golden fishes
feed upon my words
suckle vowels
and digest every flowing consonant

Birth

in rainbows of emotion
You came to
twisted at birth
naked and unknown
nursing, you awoke
curled, coddled, stroked
kissed and praised
given the promise
of all tomorrow's days

Amidst

It's that time
between the sleeping and the waking
between the ambience and the noise
between destruction and creation
between the reflection of the stars

and in between those unseen
I tiptoe across an unfinished yesterday
crying at tomorrow's arrival
collecting the dust of existence
upon my weeping brow

Stratum

carry me quietly
moving onward
one step to the next
making seasons bearable
in discontent
I stay afloat
in a white painted boat
where sunsets forever set
and moons always rise

~Emily Loren Moss Ferrell

Morpheus Revisited

on a cold morning he came
surrendering a promise to keep
a delicate balance between
the life within and the life without

with soft words falling into pillows of delight
where dreams become the sustenance
of a posture to stand upright
and face the sun

bathing one carefully
kissing away all fears
and resistance to disorder

his being and his caress
are the tides of timelessness that roll in

Subterranean Tide

at approximately 3:00 pm
eastern standard time
I feel the shore line
it rolls in and washes over
a self playing with sand
some days it rushes in rapidly
flooding soft green eyes
and crimson cheeks
and the sea, the sand, the waves
are all one force pulling me
into the same existence
residing among a willful cosmos
sitting on a bench in an ocean park

~Emily Loren Moss Ferrell

written 03/14/2010

curating an orchestra of unbeleivable moments

curating an orchestra of unbeleivable moments

that have passed by in slight increments

I watch sleep and life with my ears

twisted into an endless playlist
that rings throughout my most intimate dreams
and plays upon my obsessive brow

One Day

I am awake this morning
hoping the sun is still asleep
imagining I'm inside

I will shake the core
that twists and is taken
far away from me

and cradled one day
I will cry like a baby
I will beat you

kiss the hand of resilience
I will burn with it's rays
placed upon my cheek

and one day
I will cry like a baby
I will beat you!

~ Emily Loren Moss Ferrell

written the morning of 5/30/2010

Expressions of a Fool

reading and breathing
in the temperament of words
written by a fool
I wail for what I cannot express
but feel in the sensation of text

Cadence

a chill resonates
encircling my chest
strumming with majestic lights
that breathe in a tempo
of perfect timing

a stringed heart plays
carrying a collision
of emotions
into magnetic beats

Spring

soaked by the blood of a dogwood
pink buds emerge with emotional hues

underneath a picture window perfectly cut
framing the green of tomorrow
and covering the twigs of yesterday

Dysphoria

flowers bloom releasing their sentimental pain
air is smooth but thick
the clock moves a quarter past my emotion
brilliant hues peek through glass
stenciling clouds upon my brow
I wait for tomorrow
seeking the punctuality of my dear reflection
in the gutters of a refrained downpour
I find myself content
to sit amongst the lilies of my torment