Unseen

Tossed to and fro

a boat on peril fraught sea

I yearn for your attentions

and lose a sense of me

 

Unmoored

 

I tread gentle on your barren earth

catch sparks from an ashen hearth

offer hushed words from the shadows as you pass

from the mannequin beyond the  window glass

 

Unseen

Freefall

This love

is a fledgeling bird

Falling from a high perched nest

immature wings thrash unheard

at destiny’s sudden behest

 

Vertiginous spin

invokes panic within

and

at the mercy of chance

arrive you

my saving branch

Gone

 

Your ghost has gone

No longer the taste of arsenic-laced  lips

with treacle sheen

your searing salivary residue

wiped away

 

Where pyrotic solvents once burned

an acid hole deep within

calming enteric salve now soothes mucosal chasms

 

The antacid of time

The tree’s lament

And what of my life as a tree

Were you there to gather the dried leaves

when they shook free?

Were you there to place soil

when my roots were bare?

Gnarled ghastly by the sting of the frigid night air

 

Every spring you revelled in my richness of green

remarking such foilage you never had seen

Yet when fierce lightning tore branch from my core

You ran from my shelter

my lover

no more

Plutonium am I

Unstable, decaying

I began losing helium bullets

the day we met

my atom balance upset

my mind a neutron haze

 

Created from an exploding star

I wanted my half life to be

a

whole

life

with you

But you listened to the incessant tick tick of your Geiger insecurities

And you barricaded yourself deep

in a radiation proof shelter

for one

The City

Watch the swallows by the window

As they dive dance, spin and sway

Buoyant on warm dawn breezes

heralding the new day

 

Hear the hum of the city waking

Catch a breath of forest air

Know the chaos that is waiting

Carry stillness with you there

Seasons

Let there be meadows of green

with silvery dew

A sprawling wool blanket

with room just for two

 

Let our laughter ring clear

Over hill, over tree

Tepid toast in paper cups

A spring love decree

 

My own little dedication to the wonderful Sara Teasdale (1884-1933). Her simple yet beautiful poems were oft inspired by the seasons. Happy Summer Solistice!