Mysterious Push

fire

The drive within, that mysterious push,

enraged orange fire, twists its fingers,

around my red throbbing heart, my blood is hot.

Cold statues entombed in green moss,

an overwhelming warm yellow light from my eyes,

dances for a moment, across their empty faces.

 

Fingers desire, to dance upon ‘clicky clack’,

Letter keys, become faded,

Stories, become clear,

Warm paper erupts from whirling printers,

releases a flat inky odor, and electric puff.

 

Reader, and Writer, embrace within,

cozy blankets of words, and worlds.

Life’s moments captured in text,

a waterfall of ideas, water of the mind,

The mysterious push of the flame,

forever, overwhelming.

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

Rattlesnake or Butterfly

A Mountain trail, gives off a sweet scent, like exotic perfume.

The taste is sweet, like a warm cupcake, seductively placed in the moment.

Silence permeates surrender, as the trail chooses a hikers fate.

Rattlesnakes are under the rocks, and butterflies are in the air.

Devil’s Backbone, juts out near where the Rocky Mountains reach the plains in Northern Colorado.  Rocks and dirt, iron red, dry and crunchy, populate the trail.  The thin air blows in a warm swirl one mile (1.6 km) above sea level.  Trails twist and climb amid sparse vegetation.  The view is amazing, tight shoulder muscles and stiff necks, melt into natures embrace.

Rattlesnakes like to bask in the warm sun.  Their fangs are like needles that deliver a murky white venom.  It is a powerful coagulant that makes the victims blood congeal, and turn into a red gelatinous mass in seconds.  If anti-venom isn’t administered quickly, the tissue becomes necrotic, and limbs may be amputated.

Butterflies float on the breeze.  Silent and beautiful.  They land on bright mountain flowers and drink sweet nectar. Dusty wings colored yellow, and black, open and close.  Their tiny legs cling to flower petals with poetic grace.  Butterflies don’t sting, bite, or hurt anyone.  They are beautiful.  They don’t force their presence.  The moment is fragile and soon they fly away in the bright blue sky.

On the trail of life,  hearts are vulnerable,

to what lives in the air and under the rocks.

One shakes a rattling tail,

bites hard,

gooey poison is spilled

through curved fangs.

One floats silently in warm air,

loves peacefully,

content in its own business,

sharing beauty, in tender flight.

Rattlesnakes and Butterflies,

resist each other

in purpose,

in function

.

The two,  live within us all.

Of the two, which one,

will arrive,

when our paths cross?

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

 

Ten

There were ten of us girls waiting on the windy shore of the island.  We were certainly overdressed for a beach, but we were all waiting for a party.  We were all dressed like bridesmaids.  There was flowing baby blue fabric dancing around our shoulders.  Everyone’s hair was getting trashed by the wind.  Luckily, we all had our beauty bags, to ward off any abnormalities we would face.

The ground shook.  Behind the dock, blanketed under thick green vegetation, was an active volcano.  It had been rumbling and smoking for three days now.  I was glad all of us were leaving the island to go to a wedding.  I am too scared to stay here.  Another deep rumble under our feet.  The tide rippled, the sky grew darker.

The girls around me became more and more scared, and more and more agitated.  I pulled the invitation out of my bag.  It was a thick cream colored paper, it felt like think leather under my fingers.  Gold leaf letters stamped in cursive, read…

Wedding!

to be held,

on a summers evening,

(bring plenty of charge,

for your cell phones)

or, without you,

we’ll be leaving

I thought it was a very odd request.  I downloaded a several apps in preparation.  I bought and charged seven extra batteries.  Time seems to lose its teeth on the island, and the wedding party would likely show up, whenever.  Another rumble.  The girls were getting used to it by now, I guess.  They began laying in the sand of the beach, they looked like mermaids sunning themselves as the sun seemed to fall into the ocean.  They had their phones out and were playing games, and checking social medial.  We bathed in reddish orange light, and waited for the evening. The glow of cell phones, danced on the beach like fireflies deep into the night.  I burned through 3 batteries waiting.  Then I fell asleep.

I woke to the sound of shouting.  The wedding party had arrived.  There was a big boat anchored way out in the harbor.  Men in a row boat were yelling at all of us.  My phone showed 3:17 a.m. My 4th battery was at 7% charged when the bridegroom arrived with the bridal party.  I switched it quickly for a fresh one.  Several ushers yelled out that they needed to check our phones for some sort of confirmation to get into the boats.  The volcano bellowed a deeper rumble than what we had heard before.  5 of the girls began to scream, cry, and beg for extra batteries.  Their phones had run out of charge, and they weren’t going to be allowed on the boat.   5 of us had enough charge on our phones, we loaded into the row boats and then onto the ship.  The other girls, tried to wade out into the ocean, but were pushed back to the beach.  We watched the volcano explode into gray smoke and hot orange melted rock.  Like spilled honey, the beach was coated in seconds.  I saw a burning baby blue sash float in the air, and land in the white water in the wake of the ship.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

Water Your Thoughts

Water, the heavy universal solvent,

Only so much is fresh, so don’t waste all of it.

It magically falls from the sink, cold on my hand.

Cities rise, limbless metal trees in the sand.

 

Water may hold invisible vermin, who often infect and kill,

A suburban lawn, drinks clean safe water until it has its fill.

Mighty stone fountains, hidden from the thirsty and sick.

The entire world, has a thirst,  “A cool safe drink, quick!”

 

Water, in a storm may cause a cities devastation.

Children unhealthy, and swirling, in a dirty water situation.

Water.  Lost in a desert without it, a dry mouth, longing for a sip.

Soon, water and people, may need to rethink their relationship.

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert