Mechanics love their machines.
Repairing the damaged
Listening
Cleaning the trodden
Protecting the worn
They find a quiet, amniotic space within the cab
Underneath a machine, they are invisible
Inside a machine, they are invincible.
Machines love their mechanics.
Repairing the damaged
Listening
Cleaning the trodden
Protecting the worn
They take shelter within their garages, homes, boxes
In the mechanic’s hands they hum,
Well oiled, contented.
Sparrow sings, happy
Solid stream, frozen insects
Spring sun forgotten
I got into my journals and copied down a few of my old poems. This is one of my oldest “keepers.” I wrote it for my friend who loved fairies. I must have been… thirteenish? …at the time, so excuse any clumsiness.
This was back when my brain was on 24/7 Lord of the Rings marathon setting. Can you tell? 😀
For Ellen
They flit through field and fen
They wantonly roll and rollick
Wings that are gossamer thin
They employ in their carefree frolick
A delicate build they bear
With faces exceedingly fair
They’re strong but lighter than air
With flowers in their hair.
They have an aire of peace,
Gaiety, innocence, love,
They do what their hearts please
Worrying they’re above.
They drink dewdrops in the morn
They suck sweet nectar from flowers
For laughter they were born
And to play away the hours.
I drew this as a card for a friend who is retiring. He’s leaving the rat race, get it?
The Inktober prompt for today was Tranquil, so that worked out.
So far, I feel like Inktober has forced me to draw, but it’s also rushed me to finish in one night. I won’t make that mistake on the next one though. I’m going to take my time on it! …hopefully.
It’s easy to forget
But happiness
She always comes back
That emptyheaded little bluebird
Flutters off
God knows why
She has everything she needs here
I do all I can to make her comfortable
But sometimes she just
Has
To leave
And I wait for her
Looking anxiously out the window
Refilling her water bowl
Putting out her favorite treats
Trying in vain to lure her back
And hope
That she didn’t leave for good this time.
I need her
To fill my day with songs again.
Sarah D. Silvey 