WFSC Creative Writing Facilitators Mike Deregowski and Kelsey Hoople challenge you to participate in national poetry month. 1 poem a day for 30 days with no working ahead. 😉
Overall theme 'The Great Escape'.
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Day 1 | April 1st | Away to Paradise
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Away to Paradise
Sun’s kiss on my face,
Warming. Ocean’s surf, lulling.
Salt air, lungs gorging.
Fingers graze blonde sand
Cocoa colored toes wiggle,
Euphoric with calm
Pineapple’s sweet tang
Sticky; lingers on my lips
With rums, slaking thirst.
Tropical dreaming
Ravages worry and stress
Freeing me to Be.
Lana O’Neill
April 12, 2020
1. Away to Paradise
I close my eyes - images rise
From deep within, memories flow.
A stream of tears fall from my eyes
As thoughts recalled from long ago.
My heart yearns
My soul learns
Nightly sojourns
Take me away to paradise.
There is no rhyme or reason
No road too short or path too long
Travel no matter the season
Hold my head up and stay strong.
My heart beats
Memories repeat
Temptations compete
Take me away to paradise.
And when upon waking I remember
A smile replaces the tears
It was fall in the month of September
But... wait... that was so many years...
My heart aches
My heart breaks
Longing fades
Not going away to paradise.
Away to Paradise
I cannot escape to the still and the calm
I’m anxious and holding chaos within
A necklace you gave me is clasped in my palm
It reminds me of where I need to begin
I close my eyes and recall your advice
Our minds hold power to create and imagine
In a moments time I’m away to paradise
Capturing stillness in a mountainside cabin
I embrace my minds full artistry
Allow myself to release all tension
I’m away in a place of ingenuity
Paradise is my creative invention
Amanda O’Driscoll
April 1 2020
Away to Paradise
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It is in the dappled light
Of a moss strewn forest
Where a silence is broken by the babbling
And laughing brook.
Where stories of a fanciful sort
Of kings and queens, the Elvish and the fey,
Can take root
Like the shoulders of mountains and steps of tree.
In these dappled woods,
Amidst the mist of shrouded hill
And the call of wild-bird-jays
I can always find my way,
Into the dreams of childhood
And away from the bustle and drear
Of a world material, unimaginative,
And oh so full of fear.
Amidst the dappled golden lights
And the canopied crowns of evergreen, redwood, and willow,
My feet will always find…