Anastasya Shepherd

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Tag: life

  • Choices

    Choices are difficult.
    You choose life and passion –
    of course you do!
    But there,
    in the centre,
    in the shadows and folds,
    death lurks.
    Decay of complacency,
    lack of emotional investment today
    breeds the boredom of tomorrow,
    black mold overgrowing your passion,
    smothering it in a soft, furry blanket,
    killing it through comfort,
    illusion of safety,
    abdication of control…
    To keep life
    you have to keep choosing it
    every day,
    every hour,
    every minute.
    And you do –
    of course you do –
    until you tire
    and let the mold take over.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Lavender Roses

    Symbolizing enchantment and splendor, these blooms are meant for royalty. One of the rarest colors, lavender roses are often a sign of love at first sight and carry an air of regality. It’s truly the perfect rose for a budding romance. [Sarah Dimarco, Veranda – poshness-aspiring magazine – March 22, 2021]

    When I was young and trusting I was told to seek and I’ll find
    My lavender roses would wait just ’round the bend.
    Around the bend I went all out in body and mind
    But roads bent and twisted and would always end in dead-end.

    I went for unaffordable and always got it for free.
    I stood on words and principles in unsustainable poses.
    They gave me what I wanted and I screamed that I disagree.
    And all that I had left to me were pure lavender roses.

    My road to salvation went south while heading North.
    A thousand bipasses appear when the straight path closes.
    While finding my direction I only tied up in knots,
    My body cut and bleeding from the thorns on lavender roses.

    I made my own way into the middle of the deep dark wood.
    I found a crystal coffin where the perfect place of repose is.
    My peace is on my terms and I have now done what I could
    But all that I have left to give are broken lavender roses.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Further Reductions

    Urban spaces –
    they do their best to define us
    as we do our best to push through the visual noise,
    through the cultural pollution of busy streets,
    through life thrust at us easily and cheaply –
    consumed, discarded, unlived…

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Life and death recursive

    Viscerally, the most gruesome part of death is life feeding on it.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • A tribute to Omar Khayyam

    Little yellow flowers grow on the crumbling bricks of a ruined building.
    They dance in the warm spring air, they bring life to stillness and desolation.
    Their faint smell mixes with the sour odour of decay and makes it complex:
    no longer one note of sadness, but a palette to chose from.
    They bring joy to my eyes.
    In time, my eyes will turn to dust and – who knows – may be made into bricks
    for little yellow flowers to grow on.
    I would be glad to repay the favour.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Life

    Life passes through the pool of light:
    a happy couple, oblivious to the world, seeing only their dreams reflected in each other…
    a lonely thinker, looking in astonishment at how small the light is compared to the vastness of its absence…
    and they are gone…

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in
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