Fleeting streaks of starburst

We would fly, wannabe fairies,
Light as air, fleet of feet and limb,
Nimbly leaping onto tiled floors,
The pads on our soles, absorbent springs;
We would fling ourselves with all
The exuberance of dare devil speed,
A bottleneck on the curve, as varnish
Friction burned on bunched up nightclothes,
We raced, chased ourselves on haphazard
Courses that had seen a century or more
Of youthful verve careering in ecstasy.
Our breath beating in shallow waves
And the sparkle, god the sparkle
Of all those impossible dreams
That we never thought could be destroyed.

I can still hear the echo, of shrieks,
Freaks in the dark, from attic to ground,
The whoosh and the whish, the hush
Of soft landings, youthful cushions
Sliding into a myriad of enchanted lands.
The staircase does not appear so tall now,
I allow myself the luxury, self indulgence
Of swinging my leg, becoming astride
But I am more cautious now, the
Abandonment of childhood, receding
As my adult bones adjust and I realise
How uncomfortable, how perilous
My descent could be. Stone floors
Are merciless upon my forty years of steps
And the creak, I fear the break of more
Than just varnished walnut and bones.
This is the when childhood turns to tears
And all the fears of dark nights,
ghostly breaths, weigh just as heavily
you cannot leave the essence of you,
its written in the fragment and
embroidered handkerchief of salty streaks,
the streaking descent on to terra firma
which was always suffering its aftershocks.
My lights have been turned out now
And I eschew the ghosts of little girls
With high pitched voices, voiding
Time and space to land, misaimed
On a floor with heavy Italian tiles,
That are so unforgiving on the light of heart.





Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 676 times
Written on 2010-03-21 at 18:39

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something is new forever inside you
cheers
2010-04-04


Brian Oarr
I was a 4-sport athlete once. Now my body is riddled with arthritis. --- This is the poetry of a 4-sport writer!

You told me once you didn't consider yourself a poet, Elle. If you still think of yourself in that light, take a long look in the mirror. That reflection you'll see writes verse straight from the cosmos.

Brian
2010-03-26


Eli The PoetBay support member heart!
Sometimes I have words - usually too many - but this time I do not.

This is excellent.

Thank You.
2010-03-22


jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
wow emma you are certainly back with a bang!
the imagery and use of words here is worth me falling over backwards.
bookmarked for excellence
2010-03-22


shells
I look at the bannisters tempting me, but maybe I am older and a little bit wiser. Loved the speed/youth of your first stanza followed by a more cautious second.
2010-03-21


NicholasG
Some of us grow up...others learn the ins and outs of casts and crutches:-) I am happy that I tested that rubbery resilience for all it was worth, while I still had it. Today I wince when I try to pivot on my left knee, but with the wince always comes a slight smile.
Thank you Emma. It's a pleasure to see you posting again.
xox Nick
2010-03-21