The Capture

I wait

for the sun to pass behind a cloud

for the breeze to still

for the shadow to shimmer sideways

for the chance of a split second

of immeasurable beauty

gentle squeeze of the exposure button

with breath hold, unblinking

you my love

captured in time

 

The process of macro-photography is a low yield labour that requires inspiration, breath holding and total disregard of cramps. A bit like a budding relationship.

 

Last man on the Moon

I love you to the moon, and back” 

said he

not realizing that such a trip was impossible

on account of the crippling hypoxia which occurs

when drifting, maskless

through the lunar firmament

 

I love you, like there is no tomorrow”

said she

realizing that indeed

there would be no tomorrow

for her bag was packed beneath the bed

and she would slip away by moonlight

letting her lover dream

of solo space travel

Green symphony

Finding rich solace

beside the moss tinged splintered bark

of the scarred Sequoia

 

Sit I

 

Under a haphazardly sprung canopy

where shy saplings shimmer sway

to an inperceptible breeze

as finned ferns

unfurl

 

Web strands catch tunneled sunbeam

“see me, yet disturb me not” in stunning symmetry

 

And evening bird clamor couples with

muted wing percussion

in Shinrin-yoku delight

A rhapsody in green

opening night!

And so …

And so it is

that I have expunged all memory of you

the treadmarks of treachery

as molten rubber soul etchings

cleared with vigorous applications of rubbing alcohol

inhaled as ether

as I lay, lifeless limbed yet longing

 

But instead of prolonged numbing

instead of diminished feeling or disillusion

I emerge with understanding

for you ….

for you were the rusted signpost that a weary traveller might value

and you pointed me in the right direction

as your sun-warmed post burnt my hand

and the blisters stayed for too long

from spring, through a winter bleak

colder than your heart

Living in fear

I’ve decided to share Sara’s poignant piece, because in it I find hope, and the ingredients for a way forward in our troubled times. Also, I shall be able to re-read it from time to time. A recipe of hope.

Sara in LaLaLand

If we take the time to look at the world outside of our personal bubbles, what is it that we see? What is it we feel? What is really going on out there?

We are the most advance species on the planet, yet many of us fear going anywhere in the world these days because of the chance of never seeing the light of day again.

If I am honest with myself (touching on my previous post on leaving social media), I can see why people distract themselves with puppy filters, memes and silly polls. It is either seeing those or the scary reality that is currently happening all around the world.

I recently had to do a course on how to act if I were suddenly attacked at my place of work, with a dramatised video of people being shot dead and a group of scared civilians figuring out…

View original post 497 more words

Mistress Ice

She appeared to me first on a crisp winter’s eve

black veil, lace frayed and scented of forest pine

barefoot and wild eyed

distracted by amber dusk hue we both

 

Yet there was mischief in her step

I did not feel her fingernails grip my arm

I did not feel myself slipping

 

I saw her narrowing eyes squint from where I lay

“how easily you succumbed, I only meant to play”

Smashed skull, hair matted damp

I lay alone by the frosted street lamp

Gathered stones

Did I ever tell you that I collect gems

and once with a discerning eye

like a crow diving for gutter foil

it was fake shimmer I couldn’t pass by

 

I pressed my hopes on a diamond cut

deeming it worthy to treasure in hand

but watched in dismay as it crumbled

into grey lustred grains of sand

 

Sift carefully the gathered stones

with tarnished imperfections to feel

treasure them as old friends

for they are in truth the most real

I am the "little armored one", moving gently through life. Hoping to safeguard my sensitivities with layers of words and the expression of thought. Shielding my mirror neurons at times, or tasting music and spinning till I'm dizzy. Every moment here is a gift.