Stiff was the stringed bow as it was laid to rest
Upon the pile of ferns after a long hard test
The quiver empty and the arrow about
The beast had fought, yes it was stout
A hunger had settled upon my community
Til it was left only to me to do what I could see
To make it through the winter
A puff of smoke from my mouth stood starkly in the air
Reminded me of last night's frost and the snow in my daughter's hair
It's not a woman's place to hunt for her families table
A husband lost to a war so unstable
The blood stood bright against the white of the snow
Warm almost comforting against the sudden cold
I cut and I skinned right straight to the bone
So close,
So far away,
Ubiquitous,
Non-existent,
I feel your warmth when you’re near,
The times few and far between,
The laughs and smiles that we share,
Before you vanish from the scene,
I call to prompt conversation,
Never certain that you’ll answer,
Naively hopeful for a response,
Typically ending in disappointment,
Out of the blue you call,
To talk and catch up,
Feeling the same chemistry as before,
Feeling as though we never stopped,
Dressed for dinner, she
leaves out water for the crows
in her coat and mask
Low hangs a boiled moon
fingers stick up through the sand
farewell to low tides
No one notices
much about anything
so I think I'm safe
Dry dirt tossed over
my blind brain at mid-evening
three layers of black
Wakizashi
behind glass at the museum
whose hand drew it last?
Little girl chases
Softly floating around the town,
The snowflakes gently fell
So quiet they scarcely made a sound.
From each delicate lace they were bound
To hold a secret they wished to yell,
Softly floating around the town.
Intricate details carefully wound,
Dirt or blood you could not tell.
So quiet they scarcely made a sound.
Each landed gracefully in a mound,
Hiding the fate that she befell,
Softly floating around the town.
The snowflakes twisted and turned around,
Much like performing for clientele,
So quiet they scarcely made a sound.
With beauty carefully crowned,
A freak of nature lies on a bed of soft snow
The air is still
The world is quiet
The sky is clear
The stars look down upon this freak of nature
A million eyes gaze kindly on this twisted form
There is no judgment in this night
It is beautiful
In the morning
There will be no trace left
No one will know this freak of nature was here at all
But for now it rests sweetly and all is right
Bright, yet beautiful
Light fills the room with a glow,
Almost like Heaven.
Autumn shaded leaves
Fall gracefully to the ground,
Lighter than laughter.
The constant burn of
The sun, lingers on your skin
More stable than love.
A winter wind blows
Snow, across a field of black
Like our differences.
A hard rain falls down,
Causing a pool to ripple
Like problems we face.
Poised, and elegant
Its spine broken and torn
Leaves left devoured by silverfish,
Corners crumbling with age -
My hands tremble as I open the book.
Carefully, tenderly, I turn the frontispiece -
Shabby, tattered yet holding up together
With a dignity that only books can have -
I shake out the dust and faecal matter.
The book is still silent, slightly embarrassed
But not showing any -
Like my mother, paralysed
As I clean her with wet cotton blobs.
In the left corner of the first page
The book said -
‘With all good wishes to my son’
Signed, my father, forty years ago.
Illusive whiteness covers the ground
on the happiest of them all.
Fantastic. Festive. Familiar.
Where there are joyful faces, lit with expectation, lit with innocence and hope.
Where there is wishful thinking and dreaming, perhaps, for the daylight to make all their needs into flesh and blood.
Flesh. And blood.
On the happiest of them all, the fog, the dim light, the cold silent darkness is subduing the image.
My image.
On the happiest of them all, my bones ache and my muscles are tearing.
I apologize.
For you to have remembered the features of my face.
For kind, soft words we've spoken so many times.
For being the representation of a lot less than you deserve.
I apologize.
The snow's falling.
Slower...faster..hurricane.
Led by the song of the wind.
Faster. Slower...Stop.
Gosh, I wish you were here.
The snow's changing.
Pearly, white... innocent.
Silence in a hurry without a worry.
Light, whole, covered.
Oh! I can almost feel your warmth on my feverish body.
The snow's hiding.
Always. Awaking. The silence.
Nostalgia comes to life.
Over. And over. Again.
And I'm still yearning.
Alone, I walk fields and woods we loved
Seeing you with every step
Hearing your laughter
Smelling you sweet as a flower
Keep you safe within my heart.
Years slipped bye so fast
Old age slowing down my pace
Hair white as snow
Thoughts focused upon
Memories we shared
And I keep you safe within my heart.
I find myself smiling as I walk, lost in our future.
Holding hands and smiling,
seeing adventures in hidden places:
rain, sun, snow, through any storm you are mine.
nothing can drown our parade, not now; not ever.
you aren't a guest like the others before you,
they only stayed until it was no longer convenient but you,
you seem to be permanent
always there.
I lose myself in daydreams of you and I,
lazy mornings and busy afternoons,
having fun and loving...
when you love.. oh god you love with your whole being,
you love with your heart, your mind and your soul;
you bore your soul to me and I felt that love too.
I understood how you gave everything for one person,
they pass & i turn
but you know this
the act
revolves around itself
my time
goes marked by letters, some
enthusiasms vanish, in arguing
with you i've used up many books but
the work is too much. i have no
energy
to mould them sky darkens now
the snow is grey sounds of cooking a
movement of plates
this room is cold
and i'm in trouble