Pam's Poetry

An Angry Hour

2011-12-05T05:30:00.001-08:00

It is an angry hour.Ocean spume strafes sentinel rocksas storm winds shred the day.Tamarisk cowers before a ruthless gale,timid in its delicate beauty.Shingle shivers, chattering loudlywith each icy wave that assaults the shore;above, furious clouds battle for attention in a swirl of indecision,weeping with anger for peace lost.However, anger is but a fleeting woundin an eternal promise of perfection,healed by rainbows and the coming of light. Ah. . .all is well. 

The Hands of Time

2011-12-05T05:20:00.001-08:00

Hold my hand my darling, it trembles a little now.It is no longer pretty,yet you hold it so lovingly;your touch more comfortable now,gentle and light,less possessive, more cherishing.Our hands have shorter lifelinesbut longer memories.They have wiped away tears of sadnessand tears of joy.They have caressed the new-born andpointed the path , right from wrong.With their partners,they have applauded endeavour and achievementin equal measure;thanked the Lord for his blessings and prayed for his mercy.But right now my darling,just hold my hand,then I shall be holding the whole worldin my palm.

They are leaving me

2011-08-26T06:53:00.000-07:00

They are leaving me,
the faithful leaves of summer;
waving their goodbyes,
they fly in golden crowds
on greedy Autumn winds
to endless sleep in miry earth.

I shall mourn among the
naked, shivering trees
who face the winter blast alone,
doubting the certainty
of another Summer.

I shall miss the swallows
and their skimming dance;
they have slipped away,
through winter’s icy fingers,
South, to warmer clime.

Orion’s place
beside a Hunter’s moon
defines the frosty dawn,
my firefly evenings, warm and soft,
become nothing but a dream.

Then snow will fall,
its soft white veil enshroud the season’s gloom.
Lakes of ice will catch the moon and sun,
while skidding winter birds
bring smiles to tots whose hands
throw breakfast crumbs.

Fires will warm our souls,
faces glow and hope will be renewed;
enlightenment will cheer,
for Spring is just a sleeping seed away,
and I shall know. . .

all is well.

Good Morning Mrs. Mitchell

2010-04-07T06:47:00.000-07:00

Good morning Mrs Mitchell
Would you like a cup of tea,
The roses could be pruned another day.
I’ll go and put the kettle on;
I’m sorry, did you speak?
I understand, you must be on your way.

Do be careful puss,
I’m not too steady on my feet,
I’d hate to trip and tread upon your paw,
you have become so precious and
I don’t know what I’d do,
if you, like my dear Eric, were no more.

Maybe Mary Potter
will take Hilary to school,
she always stops to speak if she has time,
I wouldn’t want to miss her if
she walks this way today,
she should arrive at somewhere around nine.

Oh no, it’s looking cloudy,
I do hope it doesn’t rain,
I hate it when I have to stay indoors,
I never see a soul and
though of course I understand,
it can be very lonely doing chores.

I was such a lively girl,
some said I was ‘a catch,’
the centre of attention in my way.
Now I’m just a nuisance,
very wrinkly and a bore,
with nothing entertaining left to say.

Oh dear no it’s spitting,
Come on puss let’s go inside;
No wait! Did you hear someone call my name?
Ah, good-day Mrs. Potter,
Is it tea for two today?
It is! Oh what a day. . . despite the rain!

Warm in the Whisper

2009-09-18T00:59:00.000-07:00

Warm in the whisper,
Late Midas rays ease the wind’s chill.

Deep vermillion stains
The red brick twilight,
painting on the slick black ocean
the day’s farewell.

Along the shore of the harvestless sea,
he strolls, his barren dreams
impediment to sleep.
He stoops, tears strafe
down icy cheeks, staining them with grief.

She plunges down like a hawk
From snowy Olympus,
Apology for wings,
Her love the soft uplifting rush of haste.

She kisses his flowing pain,
Embraced by grateful arms and
Wrapped in forgiveness. . .

The moon smiles.

Brazen Tide

2009-09-14T04:58:00.000-07:00

Newly coiffed ocean
curled with highlighted tips,
flirts outrageously with
herculean cliffs.

Lightning spanks the waves.
Thunder remonstrates and
a disapproving moon
draws the brazen tide
back a decent distance.

The curls now straight and
highlights just a twinkle,
a respectful tide returns
apologetically, to lap
the pebble beach
in quiet respect.

All is forgiven

Unclaimed Legacy

2009-09-12T04:32:00.000-07:00

She loaned her hair to the playful wind,
to toss and tangle in the cause of fun;
to wind around each gust
and curl as do the clouds
in an Autumn hurricane.

She showed her smile to the sun
to inspire its brilliance;
enough to share with the moon
and scatter among the stars
in a treacle sky.

She offered her heart to the broken world,
to mend its hurt and heal its scars;
she loved the unlovable,
touched the untouchable,
with her kindness
and wisdom.

She slipped away

Missed by the wind and the sun. . .

But the world forgot the love.

2009-08-08T23:58:00.000-07:00

You kissed my eyes to wakefulness
and traced my lips with your finger
until they smiled.

Heaven is blue.
I saw it in your gaze,
through the tears your pity brought.

Your essence
was a promise,
kept by moonlight.

In the morning
I dressed in your favourite dress. . .

fortunately it was black.

LOST

2009-07-26T23:40:00.000-07:00

Defiant granite fists of cliff
scarred sore by vengeful tempest,
scything squall.

Towering testament
to battles fought and won;
stained by tides unleashed
of Hades quench.

Unforgiving guardians of place.

She stands atop.

Her hair tossed wild
by playful breeze now tame.
She is swathed in woven drape
thrown shoulder wide
for careless warm.

Her mirror tears
reflect his ship lost South,
beyond horizon's reach
to Heaven's sea.

Her granite friends stand firm,
remind her soul
of times when he returned,
of laughter shared,
of flesh made one,

a new life stirs. . .

a rose is tossed.

Sun Blocked!

2009-07-22T00:59:00.000-07:00

Cliche`s unappreciated,
fall as leaves from Autumn tree,
metaphors like closing doors
conceal their message silently.

Alliteration reaps frustration,
muddled messages maligned,
Conjugations' variations
dangerously ill designed.

Spondee's non-syllabic form
as dactyls invoke terror,
my tetrameter's non-trochaic,
pure iambic error.

Slake my thirst , uncork the flow
from inspiration's jeroboam,
burst the dam of jumbled words
to grant an innovative poem!

The Rocking Chair

2009-07-12T00:15:00.000-07:00

Rocking gently, soothing kindly,
burnished wood, frames
friend of years.

Age old warmth, lit soft by memory,
sweetened anguish,
nectared tears.

Place of peace or rock of ages,
heirloom etched
by love honed scyth.

Woven threads of precious wisdom,
Passed by thoughts
on whispered sighs.

New life cradled,nurtured, treasured,
passed to life
by loving arms

One day to complete the circle,
rocked in age
by an old friend's charms.

Storm 2

2009-07-05T04:29:00.000-07:00

Blackened fury rolls and climbs,
Satan's cauldron boils
where sunlight played
and Hellfire slashes sky's dark throat
as Angels flee and Heaven quakes.

Thor proclaims his Majesty
with mighty thunder voice
as trembling world lies cowed,
birdsong silenced, mankind hushed,
as Freyja floods the world.

But this must shortly pass
and crystal sun shall triumph over all,
her quiet glow kiss raindrops
'til colours mixed on Heaven's palette
arch in celebration

Light has conquered dark,

birds sing,

all is well.

I Like Sitting Here

2009-06-22T23:36:00.000-07:00

I like sitting here, I can be with my friends.
Of course Gladys can't hear now and Elsie can't bend
but we chatter, I know we repeat what we say,
sometimes once, sometimes twice, sometimes ten times a day. . .
but I like sitting here, at eleven and three,
comes the lass with the trolley and a nice cup of tea.

It's just as I'd brew it, they do very well,
if it wasn't quite right, there's no way that we'd tell,
yes I like sitting here and the staff are so kind,
although busy and bustling but still never mind,
they serve me my breakfast, my dinner and tea
and they never forget, I need help with all three.

Yes I like sitting here, quietly closing my eyes,
I drift through my youth, with its laughter and sighs. . .
and though nobody sees through the wrinkles and age,
I am once again young, with youth's glory and rage.
I dance like a feather, borne only by love,
and the magic of moonlight that twinkles above. . .
and I scream at the hussey, who strived, planned and schemed,
to steal my first true love and key to my dreams.

Yes I like sitting here and I'm never ignored,
I see all the same people and yet I'm not bored,.
I could be alone in some garret or slum,
yet I'm here in this Heaven, where lucky old come.
I was independent, but I couldn't cope,
I tried but I struggled and given I'd mope. . .
it made all-round good sense to move into this home,
where I'd never be lonely, or struggle alone.

Yes I like sitting here, my memories can thrive,
I can dream of my husband and wish him alive.
Oh we had such a love, youth may not comprehend
all the joy and contentment, we thought had no end.

When he went to the war, we thought both hearts might break
and I feared for the sacrifice, maybe I'd make.
He spent years as a prisoner but when my thoughts roam,
they drift to the wonderful day he came home!

Of course some of my friends are much older but fitter,
some do the 'Times' crossword and one is a knitter.
They help me, include me and don't mind my chatter.
I sleep at a party and know it won't matter.
I like sitting here, I feel happy and safe.
I know I can spend all my days in this place.
I know they won't move me, they're not that unkind,
'cause I like sitting here, I'm at peace in my mind.

Love's Evening

2009-06-19T07:34:00.000-07:00

Let's not sail the distant stars,
nor ride the crescent moon
we'll let the Angels sleep on clouds
'til sunrise lifts the gloom.

Let's not ride the ocean waves
or chariots of fire,
nor cruise the seven seas and back
nor hear a heavenly choir.

Just hold my hand in quiet content
and softly speak my name,
share with me the joining
of two hearts become the same.

Let us not reach for youth's desire
instead, in older 'guise,
may we, in peace, enjoy the love
reflected in our eyes.

The softness of our lives grown old
makes gentle, loves bright song
and wraps us both in quiet joy
'til life's sweet day is gone.

Tied With a Ribbon

2009-06-14T00:36:00.000-07:00

Tied with a ribbon. . .the letters of war,
of love torn apart. . .of ink touched dreams
written as he starved, of food, of comfort,
of life without guards, of love without bars.

Private thoughts read by an enemy,
shared with jailers, spoiled by their sight
but sealed with a kiss that nurtured hope
on two sides of a bloody void.

Reunited. . .flesh wounds healed,
scarred thoughts bravely denied,
together again in love and forgiveness,
'til life was spent and rest was shared.

Left in tribute, tied with ribbon. . .

paper memories,

a love undefeated.

Faith

2009-06-11T05:20:00.000-07:00

Precious thoughts,
gone to silent thief
with jackdaw stealth,

to searing nest
of melting gold,
where alchemy
destroys a dream
in flames of change.

Burn my lost desire,
cremate my sketch for life

but set aside my hope
and spare belief,

for faith will see me triumph in the end.

Deny Me Not!

2009-06-08T11:01:00.001-07:00

Deny me not my daily bread,
my dustbowl life brings hunger's threat;
my water is a roulette sip
contamination's random bet.

Deny corruption's evil thieves
and hasten aid to starving souls,
irrigate the barren earth
and purify the water holes.

Deny me not my right to life
and gift my child the right to learn,
I beg you from my hungry heart,
you have so much. . .it is our turn.

Dark and Light

2009-06-07T00:46:00.000-07:00

Treacle darkness coats leaves
on gnarled branches ancient born;
sleeves the trunk of mighty oak
whose roots descend on creeping quest.

The path is lost, the way is blind,
Orion stumbles stars extinct,
yet overhead a screeching owl
defies the black and carves the air.

---------

Ruby wound, horizon born,
bleeds to gold in eastern hope.
A bird extols relief and joy
with trilling voice, from lofty perch.

Blackened threat melts slow to blue
as light in triumph claims the day,
while trembling dew, drops soft to green,
as life is stirred on thirsty quest.

----------

In a circle, life revolves
where light and dark are seamless match,
throughout the eons past and new
through fear and celebration both,
a rolling revelation. . .
gift of birth and price of death,
of roaring storm and tranquil sun,
rejoicing in a history
of challenge met and battles won.

Slipping. . .

2009-06-02T05:37:00.000-07:00

From fading mind,
words slip,
slip, slip.

Untraceable, forgotten,
precious treasure lost
to tip of tongue,
just as vivid dreams
lose their gaudy tale
to opened eyes.

Part sentence,
story, motto, rhyme -
vague,
hanging. . .
just out of reach.

Memories
of razor reality
remain to taunt,
as concentration
abandons thought.

Fear is wrapped
in cotton wool confusion,
where life is soft,
quiet,
unchallenged by reason. . .

peace?

A 'Wealthy' Man

2009-05-30T05:38:00.000-07:00

He hears the tinkling joy
of stream caressing
gleaming pebbles,
misses the silver javelins
here and gone
in a heartbeat.

Pearlised darts
skim the water.
Colours borrowed from a rainbow
shimmer on quadruple wings.

White stucco walls
love the sun,
boasting their joining
and shunning the shadows.

Bees hum
a somnolent tune
played on wings
moved at the speed of light,
yet life is precious slow,
in sunlight,
its glories free to all.

He lies in thick meadow grass,
wearing a hat rejected by the rich
and glories in his wealth.

Time Passes. . .on

2009-05-25T23:17:00.000-07:00

She held the hand of time,
ran through youth
carefree as the breeze.

As her steps slowed
time flew on ahead,
until,
finally exhausted. . .

it ran out.

Silence

2009-05-23T06:15:00.000-07:00

To share silence
when a bridge of love
spans the quiet air,

is a double blessing,
a gift of peace,
a joining of souls,

come. . . sit with me.

Goodnight Albert

2009-05-16T07:57:00.000-07:00

Hello Albert, is that you,
if it is dear, do come through.
I thought I heard the back door latch,
I should have put it on the catch.

I'm sitting cosy by the fire,
the telly's on. . . a male voice choir.
Do excuse the socks and scarf,
they keep me warm but make folk laugh.

I had ham and egg for tea,
not much you know, it's far from free,
but Pension day is nearly here
and then I'll have a pork chop dear.

No I haven't seen our Bert,
he's busy dear, he has to work
and Carol has a lot to do,
so chances to see her are few.

I'm OK, I sometimes see
the girl next door at twenty three.
She checks that I'm still 'of this world,'
that I'm not dead with all toes curled.

Don't get fussed, I only jest,
at least she checks, it's for the best.
There's no-one else since you passed on,
I miss you so much now you're gone.

We have our chats dear, of a kind,
bit one sided, never mind.
At least I can pretend you're here
it helps, imagining you near.

Well, I think it's time for sleep,
before I break and start to weep.
Come with me Albert, tuck me in,
and thank you dear for everything.

Faith

2009-05-09T05:01:00.000-07:00

Flood!

2009-05-06T23:31:00.000-07:00

The storm grew,

life held its breath
as rain drops teased
the parched earth.

Its black heart doused the moon
and snuffed out the stars,
hiding true intent.

With all disarmed,
and sleeping quiet
in trust,
it struck.

Rain the devil knew
swept the moor,
slaking thirsty streams
and needy land;

until the hills wept
and their tears
filled the town.

In daylight's glare
it fled the coward's path,

three lives lost
and frightened souls
displaced
and in its wake. . .

despair.

Motorway

2009-05-05T23:40:00.000-07:00

The motorway yawns ahead!.

Roaring lemmings
compete to be first
down the tarmac throat.

White lines converging
slip soundlessly
over the infinite horizon
to oblivion.

Benign banks
studded with golden gorse
block escape
for miles,

but beyond. . .

a glimpse of country lanes
and a world
that remembers
when there was
time to pause,

to linger,

to dream.

The Pianist

2009-05-05T01:07:00.001-07:00

He sees the world in black and white,
The high notes and the low, within life's frame,
allegretto when youth leads the dance
but andante when age slows the game.

Silent Light

2009-05-03T00:07:00.000-07:00

The sun rose quietly on a sleeping world,
soundlessly waking the sky
and stroking the sea to life in golden silence.

Censured gulls stir and cry in dawn touched roosts,
breaking the promise of light born in peace
by celebrating in song.

Blue and white bells dance in the lightest breeze,
their faces smiling in the morning glow,
reflecting the joy of a perfect Spring.

Down the cliffside, sunlight tumbles,
over thrift and campion, lichen and samphire,
settling in gleaming glory where sea caresses fallen rock.

The sun has risen on a sleeping world.

Imprisoned Behind an Open Door. . .

2009-04-15T03:28:00.000-07:00

To live in the foothills of life
watching others climb the mountain,
is to have a lonely address.
Longing for the summit
but afraid to climb,
is a dream dying at birth.

The phobic wilt
in the glow of the strong,
hiding in the shadow of the brave,
guilty as charged;

yet who is to know
why the path through a door
is a step too far,
when dreams are full of courage
but panic locks the will.

Forgotton by the past,
ridiculed by ignorance,
the verdict is innocent and
the sentence is life.

Virtual life is a Godsend. . .

and all there is.

Through an Open Window

2009-04-14T10:10:00.000-07:00

Through an open window
the wind breathes to swell
a curtained veil,
petals shiver in a crystal vase,
prismatic colours in a ray of sun
to shame a rainbow.

Heirloom oak burnished
gold in midas light,
reflects a century past,
knows life's gentle rhythm
rocked by a dreaming soul
in quiet repose.

Contentment shares
its given name this day
in silent guise,
while time suspends
a moment lost
in perfect peace.

Endless

2009-04-06T03:59:00.001-07:00

Stretch the day as languid cat
and elongated seconds yawn,
lethargic minutes dragging slow
till they achieve an hour to mourn.

Tick and tock and tick and tock
and breathing in and breathing out
and heart that beats in perfect time
another pulse defys life's doubt.

Sun has risen, sun has set and
earth has turned and moon has shone
and tides have ebbed and tides have flowed
and after all. . .you are still gone.

Aurora Borealis

2009-04-01T10:42:00.000-07:00

Time to dance,
to swirl and toss
my rainbow skirts
against the black.

To mark the polar
skys with joy
to veil the stars
and curtain mountains.

Sweep the light
with palette brush
in abstract arc
and bands of gold

as Inuit stand
witness to reflections
born of ancient
lore.

Intimidate man's
highway lights,
to shame his fires
and firework sham,

the Northern chill
is mine to paint,
the light of Heaven's black
I am.

Missing Flowers

2009-03-28T10:30:00.001-07:00

The ground sets icy cold,
no love lies here.

No life parts solid earth
in green profusion,
only shattered dreams
in oaken shell.

Stood against an empty sky,
her silhouette of grief,
stark against the
tranquil blue.

His voice now silent
speaks of love at peace
and taunts her
with its truth.

Alone,
all joy is gone,
along with hope. . .

and the missing flowers.

Storm

2009-03-24T00:25:00.000-07:00

Blackened fury rolls and climbs,
Satan's cauldron boils
where sunlight played,
and Hellfire slashes sky's dark throat
as Angels flee and Heaven quakes.

Thor proclaims his Majesty
with mighty thunder voice
and trembling world lies cowed,
birdsong silenced, mankind hushed,
as Freyja floods the world.

But this must shortly pass
and crystal sun shall triumph over all,
her quiet glow kiss raindrops
'til colours mixed on Heaven's palette
arch in celebration

Light has conquered dark,

birds sing,

all is well.

Everest

2009-03-23T10:06:00.000-07:00

Javelin sharp and Heaven bound,
peak pierces blue sky
seeping now to wounded red
as bloodied sun sets slowly
into Hades' depth.

Peace descends
to heal the wound of dusk
and anguished colour drains to gold
as cotton mist wraps
all in quiet calm.

Rising cool and icy slow,
a virgin moon, crescent formed
and silver touched, heals
and sooths as sleeping
Jomolungma dreams
of dawn and waking life.

By her feet,
her sleeping children wait
to triumph at her lofty breast,
humble hearts and
tribute rich.

She waits,

Jomolungma - Lady of the Snows

A Silky Breeze

2009-03-20T04:25:00.000-07:00

A silky breeze flows in ribbons,
redressing the landscape
as nature's tableau comes to life.

Fields of corn wave a golden greeting
to exhuberant meadow larks,
poppies bob and weave,
dancing with cornflowers
to summer's tune.

Beyond the fields,
rabbits play in dunes,
marram and couch grasses
calling them to be
brave in the sunshine;
to venture abroad.

The ocean celebrates,
ruffled by the silk,
it leaps white hatted
onto welcoming sand,
liquid lace hems the shore
and gulls cry their appreciation.

The Heavens blue the sea
and boast the sun,
angel breath fluffs ivory clouds
until they slip silently
beyond mystery's horizon. . .

the silky breeze flows in ribbons.

Tumbling

2009-03-05T00:14:00.000-08:00

Loving you is. . .

Tumbling with a waterfall
through rainbow mist and
crystal orb,
to foaming pillow
mermaid deep,
silent rich and
Heaven blue.

Soaring with an eagle's wings,
mountain high
on fragile air,
in isolation's
perfect still,
contentment rich
in golden sky.

riding on a falling star
at speed of light
in lunar glow,
catching wishes
flown on hope
by lover's witnessing
a dream.

Scarred

2009-03-02T08:36:00.000-08:00

Down the mountainside
stones slip as tears
on a cheek;
wounding tranquility,
scarring the trust
of the past.

Time will heal
but the mountain
never quite
the same;
no path ever so certain,
no view so unspoiled.

The Upper Reaches

2009-02-22T06:57:00.000-08:00

I move with you
my flowing friend
through
narrow, shallow,
boulder slip to chatter pebble
golden bed.

Darting silver,
dense weed peeping,
catching sunshine
shard.

Sparkling
swathe cuts through flower
strewn verdant
banks.

Mayflies hatch
and die where dragons
dash.

Willow sweeps your
flood to
melting edge where
river tears plunge
crystal bright, as necklace
broken water beads
cascade to mist,

rainbow touched
by Heaven's palette.

With me Still

2009-02-20T07:50:00.000-08:00

I met you in ethereal mist,
your sigh became the wistful air
that blessed me with remembered touch,
soothing loss
and bleak despair.

I saw you in the virgin dawn,
in sunlight brightened by your smile,
against the blue your eyes inspired,
they brought you back
to shine a while.

I sat with you in setting sun,
in peace you left to sooth my soul,
upon the hill that knew you well,
remembrance
that will make me whole.

I Rose Early

2009-02-20T07:41:00.000-08:00

I rose early,
to walk the pristine shore
this untouched day.

Strolling with the silence
t'ward phoenix sun
rising slow and blushed,

my naked feet
mark life with trace of me
in affirmation.

Nature's sighing breath
stirs my careless hair and
brushes warm my flesh,

toward my toes,
the friendly ocean floods
in whispered greeting.

I own this hour
before the world awakes,

I claim this space,

this frozen time,

as mine forever.

Cornflowers and Poppies

2009-02-20T07:37:00.000-08:00

Lost among the meadow flowers,
love whispers.

Harvested
by spirit hand
to drift on sorrow's breeze,

he moves,

through cornflowers
and poppies,
in search of
true love strayed.

She stands,
where love lies quiet

and through
a veil of tears,

in meadow close
where soft air stirs,
she notes a gentle sway

of cornflowers
and poppies.

Testosterone Sea

2009-02-20T07:15:00.000-08:00

Testosterone tide postures and roars;
Shaving foam waves paying court to the shores.
A blushing beach shimmers as sunrise dawns red,
kissed by the searisen now from his bed.

The joining together of ocean and land:
a lord of the sea meets his lady of sand.
The michievous gale as a matchmaking scold
is blessing the union of blue and of gold.

Before the world rises the tide takes his leave,
he kisses his conquest and leaves her to grieve.
His fickle retreat seeks another to woo,
in a land far away where the romance is new.

A Winter's Beach

2009-02-16T03:45:00.000-08:00

Cuddled ears in treasured hat
and shoulders swathed in Grandma's wool,
she breathed into her frozen knees
while sea spray dampened winter draught.

Ocean lip of shingle gold
couched her by a knowing sea,
where infinite, the granite sky,
indulged her dreams and counselled doubt.

Horizon's enigmatic void,
a frozen view in frozen time,
placed her in perspective's eye,
where opportunities abide.

Restored by Nature's powerful thrust,
imbued with wisdom, time amassed,
she took her leave of winter's gift
and stepped the path to fireside's hug.

Parodoxical Light

2009-02-16T03:23:00.000-08:00

You wax and wane as celestial cheese,
delighting in your paradoxical mischief;
moods of quicksilver in mercurial shift.

At times brazen, shamelessly gaudy,
teasing the sun, flirting with the stars,
you intimidate the shadows, humiliating the dark.

With the turning of the earth. . .you fade.
Your light fleeing to the shadows,
you shrink and stoop in meek apology.

Stars wear diamonds in celebration,
jewelled triumph in a shadowed universe,
knowing victory is fragile and short.

Waxing gibbous and on to full smile,
your mood lighter in the favour of the sun,
you reign again in a humbled sky.

Through all, you enslave the oceans
ebbing and flowing with your magnetic personality,
servants to your kaleidoscopic whim.

I am the Mighty Wind

2009-02-16T03:06:00.000-08:00

Tonight I leave the open land
and sea, to howl as do the wolves
at a full and pallid moon,

in search of city dusk where concrete scars the
choking earth,
to lash offending streets and
punish calm.

Down thoroughfares of amber dereliction,
I'll snatch a branch from token tree to
litter asphalt straight with copper leaf.

No crag shall spare a soul my
angry breath, no alley shield humanity
from me. I whip around the curse
that progress built, detritus cast
to ground in temper's burst
and challenge those who dare
defy my power.

They lean into my strength
with tangled hair and tear-streaked
hope, defiance marks their step
in slow and weary march
but I prevail.

I rage and roar, I gust and
sometime twist to Odin's tune,
till mercy calms my dance
and stills my breath,

I calm for but a heartbeat,
a sleeping ocean needs my
waking blast,

I gather strength.

Across the Singing Dunes

2009-02-16T02:53:00.000-08:00

Scorched and singing dunes
constantly shift on a searing wind
in ruthless light.

Colour swathes, veil a noble head,
robes billow over proud shoulders,
arrow straight.
He rides a haughty, aquarian beast,
on shifting gold
across ancestral trails.

Undulating peace moulds his world,
soporific progress
bides the day,
while vague horizons know
illusion's liquid light,
failing to deceive perception's heir.

Tuareg fires define nomadic life
and light a destination darkness hid,
he sleeps where constellations mark address,
an elder held in dignity and pride,
a prince among the scorched
and singing dunes.

Reach for the Stars

2009-01-12T10:36:00.001-08:00

To gaze at the endless stars
in their companionable Heaven,

tantalised by their light,
as they bask in the admiration
of a friendly moon,

longing for the comfort of a solitary beam
but diminished by it's brilliance,

such is the pain of loneliness.

Tortured Forest

2009-01-12T10:03:00.000-08:00

Captive oak and elm writhe in torment.

Sadistic gale tears at boughs
flayed in vain defence.
groaning branches meet the Devil's howl
to haunt the forest night.

Leaves flee in golden waves,
where flung to sheltered earth
they huddle close in trembling drifts,
restless in the gusty threat.

Creatures hide in pitch thick dark.
shiver deep beyond the weather's lash,
silent in the Devil's roar
and cherished warm in Nature's cowl.

Then anger spent and torment's thirst now slaked,
peace returns to soothe an Autumn dawn
and there,
beneath the victim branch and leaf,
lie seeds that sleep untouched
and waiting. . .

waiting.

LUCKY, LUCKY, LUCKY!

2008-11-05T10:41:00.000-08:00

Our lives are devastation with inflation running wild.
(She's grinding food for animals to feed her starving child).
We may not have a Sunday roast, whatever shall we do?
(Her baby's close to death tonight, he may not make it through).
It's possible subscription to the gym may have to go.
(The rains have failed again this year, the crops will never grow).
The children need some trainers and they'll only have the best!
(Her baby dies while cuddled to his mother's empty breast).
We've pared back to essentials, there is no way we can save.
(With tear soaked eyes a mother lays her baby in his grave).

DANCING WITH ROSES

2008-11-01T07:23:00.000-07:00

The path beckoned her,
to weave among the scented colour,
where bees hummed on nectar quest
and insects climbed to lofty leaves
in green delight.

The sun warmed her,
with solar rays of gentle heat,
from azure sky where swallows soar
on delta wings and larksong rings
in meadow air.

The peace soothed her,
in nature's world of simple truth,
confusion slipped from muddled thought
and hid from tired and worried mind
behind a smile.

The world found her,
it offered safety's gloomy cloak,
to wear 'neath medication's rule
and asked how passed the recent hours. . .
she told them. . .

"I was dancing with the roses."

THE LILAC ROAD

2008-10-28T08:29:00.000-07:00

I long to walk the lilac road,
the cobbled course to tumbling dunes.
between steep walls of whitewashed daub,
where cherry blossom stoops to greet,
until beyond the grassy cliff
AEgir's daughters ride the breeze
to rise and fall the whale's way,
delighting eyes still winter sore.

Downward to the drifting sand,
I'm dancing through the maron grass,
an undulating sugar world
of softness in a golden haze.
Spring reveals beneath the blue,
where angel clouds sail light and free,
until I melt to lazy mind,
and lilac roads become my way.

URBAN SLICK

2008-10-28T08:21:00.000-07:00

A paved flash of urban slick
propelling souls in swaying mass,
diverts aside where Heaven waits,
designer clad
and labelled loud.

Temptation's talons claw to greet,
"see how soft, how glitter rich,"
how shiny is the gleam of greed,
in eyes that seek
to slake desire.

"Touch the dreams of weeping grasp,
luxuriate in sweet excess."
Hades self indulgent rich
denying Penia's
ruling hand.

Courting plastic wealth of least,
unlikely prey are brought to stoop
till urban slick paves hunger's path
and glitter rich
lies empty poor.

HERE BUT FOR THE GRACE. . .

2008-10-28T08:14:00.000-07:00

The world didn't change while I slept.

Cardboard chill is still my home,
soot covered broken bridge my ceiling,
how it trembles in fear of roaring
diesel progress, waking the night,
challenging the day, cracking
weary bricks.

At dawn the world is empty,
as my stomach,
as my dreams.
Industry sleeps but
anticipation spikes the air.

Soon, they will swarm;
the rich to their city eyries,
heads in the clouds,
heads of business, heads of state,
heads or tales,
decisions wait!

Blue collars,
in ones and twos,
marching to a swagger tune,
booted and muted
by a sleep disturbed,

but now I must dine,
on sell-by dates earlier than mine,
second hand,
second place,
second to the human race.

As my dignity is crushed
by a well heeled boot
in a faceless rush
memories of clean despair
define a life no longer there

beware. . .

here but for the grace. . .
this grimy hair could frame your face.

I Like Sitting Here

2006-03-28T11:01:00.000-08:00

I like sitting here, I can be with my friends. 'Course, Gladys can't hear now and Elsie can't bend....
...but we chatter, I know we repeat what we say, sometimes once, sometimes twice, sometimes ten times a day....
...but I like sitting here, at eleven and three comes the lass with the trolley and nice cup of tea.
It's just as I'd brew it, they do very well. If it wasn't quite right, there's no way that we'd tell.
I like sitting here and the staff are so kind, always busy and bustling but still never mind.
They won't ever forget breakfast, dinner and tea, or that I need some help to sit up to all three.
Yes I like sitting here, sometimes I close my eyes and drift back to my youth, to the laughter and sighs...
...and though no-one can see through the wrinkles and age, I am once again young with youth's glory and rage.
I dance as a feather borne only by love and the magic of moonlight that twinkles above...
and I scream for the hussey, who strived, planned and schemed, to steal from me first love and the key to my dreams.
Yes I like sitting here, I don't ever get bored. I see all the same people but I'm not ignored.
I could be alone in some garret or slum, yet I'm here in this Heaven where the lucky old come.
I was independent but I couldn't cope. I tried but I struggled and given I'd mope...
...The only good sense was to come to this home, where I'd never be lonely or struggle alone.
Yes I like sitting here, where memories can thrive. I can dream of a husband and wish him alive.
Oh we had such a love, youth may not comprehend, all the joy and contentment we thought had no end.
'Course he went to the war, I thought my heart would break. I feared for the sacrifice maybe I'd make.
Yes he was a prisoner but when my thoughts roam, they drift to the wonderful day he came home!
Of course some of my friends are much older but fitter. Some do the Times crossword, one is a knitter...
...They help me, include me and don't mind my chatter. I sleep at a party and know it won't matter.
Oh I like sitting here 'cause my daughter's so pleased and my heart is much lighter now her burden's eased.
She visits each week, though sometimes I forget. Still, I like sitting here, so there'll be no regret.

In a Garden

2006-03-12T12:33:00.000-08:00

I'm in a garden I hold dear,
No loud accusing hooters here.
Just elegance as grasses sway
And nature's sighs caress the day.

The insolence of angry hearts,
is softened by the sound of larks
And swooping low, the swallows wing,
To sip the well where goldfish swim.

The silence mocks the town's great roar,
No belching fumes, no slamming door.
No bitter fight to be the first,
No anxious quest to quench a thirst.

Here, where gentle peace prevails
And pace of life contests the snails,
Here there's time for love and care,
That's why I'm here and am not THERE!!