(imagechef.com)
I am waiting for the perfect moment
to make my move and call.
I am waiting for my calendar to clear
to be able to sit for awhile.
I am waiting until I know
that we won’t be interrupted,
I don’t want my message to be
misinterpreted or corrupted.
As I wait for the perfect moment
I know the years are passing
but my courage is also growing,
expanding and amassing.
And now here I lie
on my deathbed ready to expire…
I never found the perfect moment
to which I had aspired.
A restless energy
prowls through my being
pacing, nudging
looking for answers.
Old behaviours
that pacified unease before
now only add
to restlessness.
Winds of change
disturb pond
the surface ripples
and distorts reflection.
Light is absorbed
not reflected.
Under the rippling surface
energy gathers
twin to restless energy
pacing on shore.
Static air has hairs on end
in this tense, waiting energy.
(image credit: Njuguna)
The world is my oyster
waiting
pacing in nervous anticipation
All is ready
to burst in glorious colors
raucous symphony
Seams are taut
stretching in excitement
doors bulging with opportunity
Creativity has arrived
Smile is broad
wide
grin is captivating
twinkle in eye
cannot be denied
This is my reality
my excitement
my joyful ammunition
“You make a life out of what you have, not what you’re missing.” – Kate Morton
disappointment
again
lump in throat
waiting for a call that doesn’t come
mind racing
to account for reason why
thoughts toss and tumble
adrift on rough waters
of stormy emotions
tears surface but do not fall
a blind barrier
camouflaged by past hunts
to make sense of behaviour
has arisen
resignation
sadness
suffuse the room
blocking sunlight
covering all with a blanket of grey melancholy
although much has changed
much remains the same
(photo credit: http://www.fanpop.com)
Page waits
anticipating touch
caress of pen
Pen arrives
BOLD strokes
forceful, powerful
a demanding petitioner
desiring full attention of page
Entangled disarray
left in aftermath
Restless spirit
a feisty colt corralled
longing to leap the fence
gallop freely among swaying grass and meadow flowers
turbulent energy spilling into a reservoir too small
to contain mounting power
a storm brewing
lightening about to strike when least expected
vitality swelling
looking for meaning not mere existence
exuding spunk and sparkle
a glowing ember about to burst into flame
consuming all with its brilliant radiance
Restless spirit
waiting
biding time
anticipating
eruption of Vesuvius proportions
no planning
no warning
no apology
ScribbleDartsfromtheHeart 