poetry pondering the curious things that arrive
with morning coffees, wide skies and whispering ancestors
I am missing
'I am missing', said the Rabbit
'You are here', said the confused Badger
The Rabbit began to search for I
The Badger scratched its head
Underneath its pillow?... 'No'
At the point of the horizon?...'No'
Inside, the inside of stuff?...'No'
3 days the Rabbit searched
3 days the Forest, the Rain and the Wind observed - amused by such a search
'It seems I have left', declared the Rabbit after 3 days
'Who are You?', asked the Snail
'A Rabbit who has lost its I'
The Snail pondered for a while
The Squirrel wondered if it too had lost its I
The Wind smiled and blew through the Trees
noise
living room
filled with voices
kind voices, important voices -
in the whirling storm
I come up for air,
Silence smiles at me...
trying
chocolate on her tongue
she's trying to feel better
this place is heavier
than she anticipated
colours on her skin
she's trying to look better
living deep
behind clocks and things
smile lines curving
she's trying to move better
looking through
this world to reach
'make my imitation real'* - said a man she had never met
fidgeting with astrolabes
fumbling through traffic lights
she's trying...
suspicious
Hello Moon.
I am suspicious of you.
A light bulb in the night sky.
I read somewhere,
that You arrived.
I arrived too.
Perhaps we are the same.
We are after all,
both in love with the Sun.
the glorious funeral
Heavy, a weight on her cheeks,
from a long time ago
with the breaking of Worlds.
She’s walking in the labyrinth of a Rose,
and marvelling at the designs of Water,
a home fit for the King of Kings.
Intricate as the lace of Her home, a Spider
sits in the corner of this realm
pondering the Wisdom of Love.
Giants, and their invisible footprints,
walk with Angels on concrete highways
wondering,'when will we be seen?'
Inside a heart, the Beginning mocks an End,
as the sum of something, explodes into a
million possibilities.
Boxes,
Lines,
and Walls
drawn by grey beards
stand ready for cremation.
Their hearts soften at the sound of clapping
from Butterfly wings...
labbayka, labbayka….
By the River,
under a Great Tree,
from a window looking across a foggy street.
Anchored sometimes
with that piano song playing on repeat….
she waits.
Curled up,
held,
with an orchestra of Colour,
...ingredients added to
feel wholesome.
The cold whip of misery,
brings a change of direction
and those coffee stained deaths in boardroom meetings….
...Created to make
it
less linear.
No!
Summons a figure
wandering
in this quest.
And finally at an edge,
Silence makes His
grand entrance—
...And Quiet is crowned.
Until …
the shriek of MURDER...
folds a scaffolding
holding an idea,
...bringing
the curse of movement.
And so it begins
again.
Inside the golden prism of Sound.
Caught for days in the breath
of a thousand Stars.
At a bus stop, swept in a love story with Rain…
Here I am…
'Hello', said Flower
'I am here, and you are there'
...Pauses between things
Beautiful pavements
Beautiful curves in movement
How else to live here
Smoky sways
in golden halos
Rustic band plays
Light cornered by stuff
Flowers squashed in a glass vase
Sleeping winter tales
Ladybird on a train
with sweaty commuters squashed
Mirage of green air
Still, sat crossed legged
on a carpet of Spring Green
The spider builds home