Tag: Yellow

Luck

Published on by annwjwhite1 Comment

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/luck/

Luck has waxen wings;
Flying through rays of glorious yellow
With a tail of radiant red.
Glaring and daring the sun
To deny it a future.

Luck has paper wings,
Sodden and ground-bound, stricken,
Laden with gravity, a leaden power,
Which pulls it kite-like
Through puddles of tears, betrayed.

Luck has feather wings,
Ignoring words of failure, mockery.
Moving in between tears.
Dropping lightly, butterfly like,
Starlike, super star, nova.

Luck has eternal wings,
Laughing at the crowds who flock
Like joyous crows before a feast,
Who beg her for a morsel. Teasing,
Recreating herself endlessly.

Luck has lunar moth  wings,
Dominating the nighttime, peeking
Into dreams bereft of reality.
Children's dreams, hopes, parent's prayers,
Planning a voyage into time.

Luck has nimble wings,
Speeding past the impossible,
Ringing the tones of celebration,
Paying out at pinball machines,
With paper strips and silver coins.

Luck has steam powered wings.
No misfortune, nor even tasks 
To pull one through for she is not idle
Hands search, alone in the dark. For her wings
Are gossamer ideals put to work.

copywrite 2017 Ann WJ White
All rights reserved

Wings of Fire, of Illness

Published on by annwjwhite2 Comments

Touched by fire I fall like Icarus,
My wings melting as the fire spreads.
My brain a foggy heaven,
Misting in a gelatin broth,
Fatigued but burning inside,
The shout from my integrity,
As I do not want your pity,
Falling past you, falling through your arms
As you try to understand.

Touched by fire, I heat the wind
And spread my wings upside down.
My hopes an icon of burning, a pillar
Of crimson light. Opening before
You showing the beauty of my soul
Still within my grasp,
Still building from the basic blocks
Of my childhood.
Blocks that built towers of power.

Touched by fire, I dance
Like the phoenix, rising above
Climbing, soaring, breathing.
Orange feathers, yellow feathers,
New ideas, new prices, new cures,
Grasping hands that circle in a form
A bloom, a purity, an honest clasp,
A heritage of standing tall,
A woman warrior, rending illness.

Ann WJ White, whiteawj@mac.com
@June27,2016 Ann’s Eyes