Tag: storypoems

  • Oscillations

    Oscillations

    —

    by

    Todd
    in , ,

    Of little substance, autonomous worlds of spinning matter interacting within a predominately empty space is who and what we are, she said. We were on a blind date prearranged by friends. It’s amazing we can communicate at all, she quipped, given the enormous distance between us, relatively speaking. Dinner was served and we talked and…

  • Clay

    Clay

    —

    by

    Todd
    in , ,

    His body displaced the air as he walked along a sunlit path and questioned the worth of his existence. What if anything would he leave behind? He beheaded a flower to examine its ephemeral beauty and purpose, sniffing then twirling it by the stem, before tossing it back to earth. As all things return again…

  • Blur

    Blur

    —

    by

    Todd
    in , ,

    He drove himself too fast. His life was a blur, punctuated by moments of clarity. At the altar, his wives, in the honeymoon suites, the kitchens, bedrooms, wanting love. His children showing him a toy, a picture they drew. Road signs. Looping overpasses. Changing signals. He felt maligned by the curves, forced to brake, always…

  • Amour

    Amour

    —

    by

    Todd
    in , ,

    Beside a fire on the beach, under a sky breaking into colors, we felt and heard the pounding heartbeat of our ancient home. Was it fantasy, this ocean within us, bound by voluptuous skin, as deep and unfathomable as our desires? Searching for answers, we explored the catacombs that hid our dreams. In the depth of…

  • Lucky

    Lucky

    —

    by

    Todd
    in , ,

    Lucky was his nickname. Like the scar on his jaw, both were given to him at the age of seven by his older brother who pushed him out their bedroom window. The three story fall was broken by the extended arm of an oak tree on which he bounced before landing in a bed of…

  • Playground

    Playground

    —

    by

    Todd
    in ,

    A child with monsters in her head ran screaming across the playground. As her feet left the asphalt touching cool bladed grass her demons transformed into swans and she flew with arms stretched flapping over water to her waiting friends. Excerpt from Light-Years in the Dark: StoryPoems (see more) photo-art design by todd crawshaw

  • Prism

    Prism

    —

    by

    Todd
    in ,

    In the vast shadow of a garden he was on his back questioning the moon and stars. It took more than the strategic leap of an astronaut’s faith to reach the blackness. The luminous net of clouds would be too soft and forgiving to stop or catch his fall. He had to first escape the…

  • Sound

    Sound

    —

    by

    Todd
    in ,

    At a city intersection stood a man who spoke of trumpets in his head, an entire orchestra that performed solely for him. Bloated and shirtless, conducting the air with his hands, he stopped to twirl the ends of his beard before grabbing the torn wings of his coat as if preparing for flight. Passersby paused…

  • Rainstorm

    Rainstorm

    —

    by

    Todd
    in ,

    She walked into a rainstorm of cobalt blue. Viridian green. Aquas. Emeralds. The colors fell around her with each brush stroke, spattering her clothes, her hair, the ground. She reached into the sky and brought down a shower of wetness with her fingertips. She fell in love with the droplets as they shimmered, trickling off…

  • Timing

    Timing

    —

    by

    Todd
    in ,

    At the subway station a man was talking to himself about the inaccuracy of time relative to his inability to do what he wanted to do and be where he needed to be in order to meet his deadlines. He had overslept. His alarm clock failing once again to do its job. His office assistants…