Do you know how I
picture God myself?
As one single fish,
enormous,
creative,
scattering millions
of lucky little accidents
like caviar –
deep in his dark sea
caverns,
each tiny black marble
waiting their turn
to wash up
on life’s sandy
shore.
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I wish you could see
the spectre of depression
haunting my days…
dragging his knuckles
through the miry muck
and leaving a trail
of icy numbness behind.
(Poetry by Maranda Russell, marandarussell.com)
Sleeping Poetic Genius
By: Maranda Russell
I wrote a poem
in my sleep last night.
The words, colors, and images
now blur in my mind.
I try to pin them down,
only to have them
wiggle away
like a puppy
desperate to escape
a confining embrace.
The poem was grand,
of this I am sure.
A masterpiece of language,
now shriveled and dried up
like an unlucky worm
laying dead
after a rainstorm.
I have found myself
at a loss for words, but here
they come anyhow…
All the lighthouses!
All the lighthouses!
Yet there’s no light to be found.
Pointless monuments!
(Yes, I know the second one is irregular form, but I felt it sounded better with the first line repeated, so I broke the rules!)
Does the popcorn
make the movie
and the beer
make the bar?
When you
willfully separate
that which has been
forever intertwined,
does the sum of its parts
create something new
or do you simply
destroy
all parties involved?
~ Maranda Russell
On the Railway
Written by: Maranda Russell
On the railway,
no one studies your face.
No grief is given,
but neither is grace.
The wheels are loud,
and the engine is hot,
bringing to mind
all things better forgot.
With the changing landscapes,
and nature’s colorful hue,
remember this thought
that will always ring true:
On the long ride back
from wherever you roam,
never return the same person
as when you left home.
