Tag Archives: journey

Wilted

I have all the time in the world

for you

Which is to say

I’ve found a little fertile patch of ground

Sheltered from the sear of the day

And there place, with gentle press

You, single seed

In state of pre-pumule* undress

..

But the early spring

Is cooler

than most

And the frigid ground

a near inhospitable host

for your translucent roots

..

So you turn from my hesitant gaze

You course through weeds,

their maze

a convolute of root and thorn

such wayward course, I try to warn

..

you

wilted shoot

I shall not mourn

*The plumule is the part of a seed embryo that develops into the shoot bearing the first true leaves of a plant.

Morning

dismal morning you came too soon

with tentative glare you shrouded the moon

casting acid on this heart of mine

contented in shadows

allergic to shine

cowering ever from daylight divine

dare I step into the fleeting bright?

when all I have known is velvet draped night

nay, let me retreat to the calm of dark pure

for the void is my mistress

her iced fingers

my

lure

Words

“Parole” to Italians

“Les Mots” to the French 

an abundance of words

upon you

i shall drench
You shall emerge

from such a verbal sea

dripping with heavy

and longing for me
let them not evaporate 

for they indeed eviscerate

from a heart undone
perhaps press them between pages

with dried forgotten flowers

to hydrate when needed

come someday 

lonely hours

Will You?

Have you lost me to the evening air?

a balloon floating free at the country fair

a child dismayed

eyes flooded by glare

from the sun so bright
Did you lose me to the forest green?

a barefoot nymph, dancing unseen

dashing through thicket

shaded

labyrinthine

dried moss to misted dust
Will you find me now the song has played?

the concert over

a sparse crowd dismayed

violin bow lowered

had but we stayed…

haunted yet by the music

I fell….

I have been meaning to write for a very long time. Words of encouragement from a teacher in my youth had me second guessing my chosen vocation in health care even. “You should consider journalism, really!” Wouldn’t that be something to write for a living I thought. When you have a mind that never stops playing with words it did seem the obvious choice.

But instead, I chose a “sensible” career that has served me well. And my words became background whispers that have comforted me through decades, fuelling an imagination without limits. But the time has come to write now. You see, first I fell (my heart, most dramatically). Love offered, to arms open then withdrawn in fast order. Devastated. For a moment in time.

Then I fell again. On a clear winter’s evening when I didn’t see the iced treachery underfoot. My head striking the ground with cold force, setting into play a cascade of physical symptoms. As if destiny, shouting with fury into my ear “I will strike you now as you must be truly awake from this day on.”  Crippling anxiety visited for a short time, then it was gone with the spring. Like a crow resting momentarily on the rail with it’s dark glare. Then jump, glide and away.

Once you experience true fear it redefines your perspective. I’m no longer scared of those things that made my heart race in the past. I’m learning to breathe deeply, live more in the moment and challenge myself. Nothing rushed, as a wandering armadillo stepping to and fro. Shield intact though, as falling is a peril for one such as I.

If this becomes a ponderous journal, so be it. A compendium of poems and my own photography would be more what I have in mind. A mid life thought journey even. It’s time to live, to revel in the music, to sing at a moment’s notice – to write and read voraciously. To explore my deep as I float through landscapes. Carried along by my words, though my mind, on foot and by motorcycle.

No land end, no borders.