A new day

Yes, yes you

Frail heart Renew
Let love cradle you in sinewed hands

Warm comfort never known

You have travelled foreign lands

To find her left at home

 
Thus

Never to be released from her grasp

Trust

Remove all songs from the past

 

(Once again, another inspired photo taken on a clear night, gazing through a wine glass at the fresh spring bloom. Enjoy!)

The Umbrella

A frail cool breeze

Filters through the trees

As gentle as a patient lover’s kiss
Then the ominous grey

Transforms the summer’s day

The bored lover walks away
Be not as fickle as the weather

Carry an umbrella

Even when a heart is soaked through

Know tomorrow she will renew

Forest bathing

Refuge of forest green, I have found my joy in thy scented cradle

Sweet pine and tender spring leaf

Fronded fern, shade seeking solace

Inviting me down on undulating moss beds

 
Your bird lullabies lull my afternoon thought

Not a breeze to silence the hum of wings

Shall I take you with me?

Seeds in my trouser cuff

Arid

Your fields are monochrome faded

Blades of grass bleached by your treacherous bent

Paled petals loosened

Brittle branches fallen
Your fires have scorched the trees

Perilous gusts fanning

Rabbits tossed against barbed wire

Frenzied,wide eyed
Precious little can grow in your toxic soils

Where once I walked

Barefoot

Bally Ball …

Watching a young boy running in and out of the waves just now. Curly locks bouncing in a sun-backed silhouette.
The sound of his giggling grabs my full attention. He’s so thrilled, so engrossed in his child play.

The simple repetition of throwing the ball and running. The ball is white with a smiley face on it. He says “I love you Bally ball.”

And for a split second I loved that ball too. Memories of childhood and a fervent imagination returned.

May you all be reminded of youthful innocence ¬†and simple joy. In our complex adult lives memories of our own “bally balls” are worth revisiting. Often.

Sun on skin

I took a magnifying glass to your pearled perfection

Leaning close, inspecting pores
Was it beyond epidermal?

Subcutaneously suspicious. 
Then, with accidental intent

Angling a heated sun ray

Nerve endings responding to the celestial fire focussed

To remind you what it is to feel something

Anything. 

Every night

I found a poem I did not write

With my own hand, cruel words of spite

Addressed to you, I did not send

My shattered heart I will now tend

Yet every night, roused from my sleep

I’ll wake to paper cuts so deep
I found a song I could not play

And from the stage, I slipped away

Denying notes I’d surely known

Molto allegro now disowned

Yet every night, roused from my rest

The forlorn melody beats in my chest