Tuesday, July 24, 2012


As the temperature rises I know it is time
to revel again in anticipation
and how soothing it is to again project
all dreams into the everyday.

Perhaps it is fruitless some would say
for history attests to no dreams today
but, oh, when the birds sing strident and clear
I can’t help but picture you here.

But the picture is hazy for now I see
light blue from the chocolate brown
and I find there’s a subtle but definite twist
in my long held belief in the truth.

But mind, my mind, embedded in life
has succumbed to the strange and bizarre
and covers the heart with its reasoning
in attempts to still the beat.

And quietly I sit in anticipatory mode
listening with fine-tuned heart ears
and I know the beat’s deep, deep, down
too weak now to rise from the covers.

How sad when mind steps in to conduct  
the music of heart’s true rhythm
to make of the calm and harmonic
a blaring and off-key cacophony!

Sunday, July 22, 2012

To and fro

The news of the day repeats, repeats,
until instilled in my brain
and grows and grows to overspill
into the chamber of grief.

Now this chamber of grief is overfull
from the years of love’s desertion
and so it becomes a slow seep and creep
into my now life force.

This force must fight to the death
to retain its true attributes
and I wonder from whence comes strength
that fortifies the weak.

And so in the midst of this battle
I stand a woman unsure
as to where to place my bet
in these times of diverse theories.

And so it goes; a to and fro
until the force withdraws from the fray
and life grins wickedly
at its next innocent victim!

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Beasts of burden

Though miles have been accumulated
on my journey to demise
I’m granted no advantage
on subsequent travels.

It’s an advertising gimmick
made to catch the unaware
and force upon the trusting
the burden of cynicism.

Weighted so we walk the trail
for surely in the backpack
there must be memories
of that once-upon-a-time.

But busy, busy, I can’t look
for sustenance not made whole
in this world that doesn’t honour
a traveller’s many miles.

And there’s no flexibility
or willingness to bend
the unwritten rules
that govern everyone.

So this is life, a tyrannical dictator,
that like an evil wizard
slowly, slowly, turns the young
into beasts of burden!

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Final goodbye

The final goodbye creeps sneakily sly
like a snake in the wilderness does
and stalks the edges of innocence
until it is time to strike.

Patient are snakes and final goodbyes
because the strike must be deadly true
to reach the unprotected core
when it is least expected.

Strike and I'm dead; I don’t exist
like an extraordinary mystical vision
seen and then lost in preposterous life
always present like traffic lights.

Now traffic lights can’t assimilate loss
or empathize with the deprived
so those who should proceed onward
stand immobilized on the line.

They don’t hold up traffic, oh, no. no. no,
because people like me and you and them
are plain and simply mystical visions
seen and then, of course, lost!

Saturday, July 7, 2012

The last waltz

When the last waltz has stopped
long before the lights have dimmed
no cash, down-payment or card
can reclaim its extraordinary magic.

And yet the cry goes out; dance, dance again,
until the clouds take to the hills
hoping there to find deaf ears
and rest happily in ignorance.

Peace reigns for a time and half a time
but then a thought begins to grow
in the, oh, so white and fluffy
to turn them dark and sombre.

How long it takes for clouds to think
remains for me a mystery
but finally thought turns into action
and they return again.

No one can hear their silent creep
because noise would make of their eavesdrop
a complete and utter waste of time
for those with work to do.

And then they listen; yes, they hear
the same old cry as once before
and that’s the reason why we have
quick and sudden cloudbursts.

Clouds, you see, must blanket cries
with all at their disposal 
to not make of their return
an unwise decision.

And how like humans to take to the hills
and bury their heads in the clouds! 

Thursday, July 5, 2012

I want to know

I want to know what it’s like
to have extreme heart control
and keep love’s basic attributes
imprisoned behind bars.

Is there a fight for breath,
a decided lack of exercise,
and nourishment not suited for
eternal growth?

And when the nightmares come
is there a cry for comfort
and can the eyes dismiss
the downward fall of tears?

Is there a reach and stretch
beyond the physical
seeking there a reason
for imprisonment?

Or does love simply die 
and stripped of memory interned 
deep within the psyche
to not ever rise again?

Before I buy, beg, borrow, steal,
please tell me what it’s like
and most important definitely
does it work for you?