Tortured

disturb me not when I write

for I seek answers in the night time sky

between wisped clouds

that pass,

by and by

 

as moonlit parchment draws my quill

poised in shadow

trembling still

a cursive trail of sanguineous ink

tell me true

what dost though think

of these tortured, bloodied late hour pages ?

recounting anguish

on sordid stages

 

 

Image courtesy of M.Korlaet, my beloved sister. State of the art Cinematic rendering technique from a low energy CT Scan. Breathtaking.

Not Yet

when you ask me to explain

why I love, fierce yet new

i throw up my arms

exasperated… as you do

 

must I really explain?

in choice verbal refrain

the cyclical tug of the moon

the surges of the tide

the longing, the familiarity

when you are … inside

 

in our last life

at our final hour

you said “never forget”

but, you have darling

yet not I

 

not yet

In Dreams 

Haunted am I
by your face in dreams

where lips move but I cannot hear sound 

and even if utterances profound 

my heart would mute the words 

to a faint melodic hum

a staccato stutter 
So you hold up cards

glyphic serif font 

Bold

but my heart shields my eyes

her strong hands I cannot prise

only cracks of daylight

fuse 

with  

fading goodbyes 

A branch’s tale

I sit amongst fallen leaves

achingly curled dry into final poses

over scattered shrivel of scarlet roses

the sun warmth now diminished

as my own

 

what of the diurnal promises of spring?

when I bent proud

grimacing through hail storm sting

just to feel the graces of your summer

 

resplendent in my naïveté

with buds this passion was born

till branch from tree

was

torn

The Human Ark

Two by two they came

up the ramp of a fleeting life

the bitterly disappointed 

the blissfully burdened

the ardently amorous 

fingers entwined, twisted to intricate puzzle form

some with arms swinging with metronome unison

without touch

others looking behind with an uncertain air

halting momentarily

with slight domino sway

 

We stand on the pier 

contemplating 

“Should we pack anything?”

you ask

 

“No, we have all we need”

 

Then slowly up the gangway 

leaving our wide eyed unicorn

motionless on the shore

The Frail Seasons

Oh

but you are exquisite!

 

You

are the rich sweet of jasmine flowers

scenting my spring morning

the unrestrained warmth

infusing a parched midsummer noon

the faded golden of autumnal dusk

reflected in

soft gasp swoon

 

yet

 

your heart belongs to winter

and to her

you shall be wed

with shards of iced desire

adorning your nuptial bed

 

The Pool

i’ll cast the words to find you

in yonder starlit pool

and when you find them sinking

no longer I … the fool

 

collect them all

with a butterfly net

stuffing ripped pockets

before we shall forget

 

for upon tomorrow’s fickle wind

emotions are swallowed

and words

rescind

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.