Friday, November 17, 2017

Him (Day 303)

Snowflakes fall like coins 
from a lurid coral sky. 

Left out in the cold, 
he chases them, 

grasps at the shattered air. 



(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: 12019 via Pixabay

Thursday, November 16, 2017

One of Me (Day 302)

There is one of me
and one of me and none
of the other  an empty chamber
where sound and light are
deadened  the way they are
when leaves fall and pile up
in rusty old heaps  like shredded 
paper turning to dust in the gutters
or when the trolley stops running 
because the tracks lay beneath 
a blanket of snow  spread smooth 
and white as buttercream  surface 
excruciatingly unmarred  irresistible 
except  instead of two lines 
of footprints  there are only mine  
and only mine and none 
of the other in the empty space 
to my right  from where only 
the purest light glistens 


(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Pexels

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

A dream is... (Day 301)


A dream is a question, 
a lock, with thousands of keys 

A key is a dreamer of doors, 
a gentle-eyed carpenter, willing 
to feed your cat if you have 
to leave before he does

A door is its own kind 
of small death, a sacrifice 
on the altar
where the heart is

Death is a welcome 
mat, next to which is 
a basket with a little sign saying: 
Please take off your shoes 
before entering.


(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: BloggerStefan

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Trail of Crumbs (Day 300)

We sliced the days 
thin as fluttering kite tails, 

savored every hour, and, 
in case we lost ourselves 

along the way, we left 
a trail of crumbs, remnants 

of a life that love consumed,
to guide us home 



(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Illustration for Hansel and Gretel by Alexander Zick (1845–1907)

Monday, November 13, 2017

Unbroken (Day 299)


imagine
having a heart
that had never been
broken
or a spirit
that had known
only joy

the topography
of a life 
like that   
unmarred by yearning
unchanging   unearned
a bleak and  
featureless expanse
as far as the eye could see

like awakening
yawning and stretching  
into a nightmare
of eternal ennui
from a dream
rich with longing
and love
and loss


(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Saturday, November 11, 2017

On a Bench (Day 297)


On a gray bench she rests 
with faded hands  
eyes half open to the forest 
at her feet  a blanket 
of pink sand delights her 
senses  rinsed clean by 
pure turquoise 
dreams of Saturdays and 
lazy afternoons floating 
in circles beneath 
a gliding hawk while 
dogs barked and 
distant mowers groomed 
the knotted fringe of day


(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: MabelAmber