Imagine being
. . . at the very end of the world.
Imagine being
. . . into utter homelessness hurled.
Imagine being
. . . in the eye of the storm.
Imagine being
. . . in the center of the vortex.
Imagine being
. . . in the depths of the abyss.
imagine seeing
. . . the earth the color of the lark.
Imagine seeing
. . . the sea the color of the sky.
Imagine seeing
. . . the sky the color of smoke.
Imagine seeing
. . . cloud cover the color of lead.
Imagine feeling
. . . the wilderness of virgin forest.
Imagine feeling
. . . the savagery that stirs the wolf.
Imagine feeling
. . . the heart of the jungle.
Imagine feeling
. . . the swamp and the bayou.
Imagine feeling
. . . the hearts of wild men.
imagine envisioning
. . . the unimaginable, the incomprehensible.
imagine envisioning
. . . the unthinkable, the undesirable.
imagine envisioning
. . . a mystery that offers no revelation.
imagine envisioning
. . . a secret that bears no invitation.
Imagine stepping
. . . into the depths of the wild.
Imagine stepping
. . . Into the savagery of the storm.
Imagine hearing
. . . the sound of first thunder.
Imagine seeing
. . . the first vision of snow and ice.
imagine confronting
. . . the brute force of the savage heart.
Imagine having
. . . the strength you feel amid the weakness of others.
Imagine having
. . . the weakness you feel amid the strength of nature.
Imagine
. . . the incomprehensible mystery.
Imagine
. . . .the irresistible curiosity.
Imagine
. . . the desire to conquer.
Imagine
. . . the desire to invade the darkness.
Imagine
. . . the desire to brave the unknown.
Imagine
. . . What it feels like to imagine.
A different take on the John Lennon view, but all the more intriguing. Some of these imaginings are quite familiar and experienced by most of us. However, some are insurmountable or downright strange like, "… Seeing the earth the color of a lark?" The sea tends to reflect the color of the sky.
If we didn't know how to imagine, we would be in a deep pit dear John, I thank God every day for the gift of "imagine" oft all we can do is re-arrange ourselves amid the storm, you made me pensive this morning, nice way to start the day before church, have a great day, love x
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Rebecca
Never Stop Writing!
m
Love ya!
Jane
Still, a lot of curiosity expressed here.
Ron