Tag Archives: poem

My life as a play

i have lost my taste for the everyday

a maudlin, empty theatre play

scenes dehydrate…

the set walls slide away

and

dramatic briskness falls bland

exit directed by a lone stage hand

doors bolted

 

seeking solace instead

i seek a grander outdoor stage

my soul bindle wrapped tight

grasping firmly, this new page

so captivating a script

 

in which

I wander along barren sands

an enlightened journey to me

as ocean laps, rubbing stones to shine

a hand reaches ever gently for mine

and we walk

untethered to place

and time

us two, centre stage

under warm spotlight shine

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

Dust

when my world

spins against your clouds

birds will fall, breathless from the sky

and magnetic poles derange

with n’er a reason why

 

no longer shall the moon

coax the tide with cyclic draw

no spring, nor seasons come

all lost to time before

 

the stagnant sun shall blush

and melt the amber sky

as the desert winds’ soft hush,

shall fall still,

then oasis dry

 

The Word

Let us not say

the word

for once it is spoken

it cannot be

unheard

 

instead

 

feel it

on my skin

as morse code under feathered touch

dots, stray dashes and such

 

hear it

in dawn sighs

and half dream whispers

that mesmerize

 

taste it

in a collapsed soufflé

that with excruciating attention

brought laughter to our day

 

smell it

as the morning scent of jasmine flower

missed by sleeping neighbours

we rejoice our private, shared hour

 

and see it

when our eyes meet and gently hold

in blink free wonder

that word

is told

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

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!