Futility

Distract

destruct.

Resist. 

The inevitable

silence 

ensues.

© Cat Hill 2012

dVerse open link night hosted by Grace.

Connection

The white

eight-foot bride turns

dead presidents into

flowers. Her intense eyes unveil 

my soul.

© Cat Hill 2012

Image used with permission, copyright Andy Ihnatko flickr.com/photos/andyi/

Image sourced via TED.com

Written for dVerse form for all prompt to write a cinquain. This gave me an opportunity to write about one of my favourite musicians, Amanda Palmer. She started out as a living statue, often as 'The eight-foot bride'. After listening to her recent inspiring TED talk (link here) about the 'art of asking' I wanted to get across the true connection she had with strangers. She still makes this connection by making her fans feel loved, appreciated and heard. I found it really difficult to put this concept into 22 syllables... There were many attempts. If you think it's easy have a go!

Reality

The noise so sudden and shocking

makes me cling to you.

Blood smears across

the window pane,

feathers flutter.

Its neck broken.

Part of creation lays motionless

on your patio.

Its watery crimson blood

taints the garden. 

Shattered wings now only controlled

by the wind.

A birthday gift, parting with a kiss.

Yearning to be closer to you;

stifled by this death.

The horror of reality stares

at us through the lifeless glass eyes

of a pigeon.

©Cat Hill

Open link night 84 at dVerse poets

Blue Curtains

A DO NOT ENTER sign.

Temptation 

is great. If I open

them, what will be behind?

Maybe the truth? Maybe

Answers to an unspoken

punctuation mark,

pregnant

with denial

© Cat Hill

Open link night dVerse

antiSocial

The person you are

calling is currently

unavailable,

please leave a message

after the tone.

Inbox empty,

you currently have no

new messages.

My phone vibrates,

a moments elation

deleted

by a network text.

Only Facebook asks me

how I feel.

I tell it I feel

alone

and twenty ‘friends’ respond

sending hollow hugs and

‘thinking of you vibes’.

You are not one of them.

Log-in to Yahoo messenger,

your name fades to

grey.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll see

your face.

But then I remember

you’re

one Hundred miles away.

© Cat Hill 2013

Inspired by dVerse prompt with focus on the Media