Category: Poetry
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My father’s hands
Though evaporated now, I will always see, His fingers, his hands, my father ever searching for me.
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Strength from your arm
Tiptoeing at first, dancing freely heart touched along the path to set myself free.
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Next Valentine’s Day
It’s been weeks now – glimmers of hope surround me, padding slowly, silently around him – starting to erase the usual doubts, choosing tones dulcet around him -leading up to Valentine’s Day.Meantime each day closer now -the air presses upon me -humidity enveloping around me -softer my voice slower now – sifted words more gently…
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my calling leads me closer to home
I could easily shake that dust away – venture outwards – though I’d rather stay -postpone the first step till tomorrow or, better yet, mid-breadth, stay in again -Or pause, forget, and wait for a cloudless day…Instead I chose to seek the calling that leads me closer to home.Yet though I live in continual contemplation,Trying…
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Why haven’t you smiled these last ten years?
I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Why haven’t you smiled these last ten years? Well if I may be permitted to speak,
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Social Cohesion
Social cohesion (defined) – An imposing incantation of words that proscribes harmony for all.
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into the corporate black
All of my so-called colleagues are full-time blocked, Their status proudly carols – how busy they are! They’re cold desked now attending all day meetings, Thralled indivisibly to colleagues both here and far.
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To the grief keepers and compassionistas
All around us the beauty that was is being leeched and swept away. Our poets are shot, nurses murdered, children kidnapped, all around us their night extends into day.
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The Interactive Hand-Written Letter
Christmas Day my sister stopped everything with the rustle of paper. We all stopped eating waiting to find out what she was up to.
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on grief : a meditation for Renee Good
Shouldn’t there be a persons who should not have died hotline? An anonymous number tocall and complain about a loved one’s loss?Or better yet preemptively a web site? Where you fill out a form detailing their conditionand the ideal prescription you’ll never see?Presuming of course that you’re the only oneWho can decide if they live…
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the beauty of pain
There’s an eternal beauty in pain,A pre ordination of fate and singularity,That of an already known familiarity.Depth, breadth, length-measured once again.One can easily transcribe the ongoing extermination,Shadowed lines of a heart once kept,Bruises unseen tears still to be wept,Unbeknown lesions on a x-ray – a final ablution.Once passed pain lives on unknowingly,A silenced hurt now…
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make me a sandwich
Unwrap the loaf,Wipe the bread board,Unlid the butter,Wield the butter knife.An extra sandwich is fine -Should you ask, no I won’t assume.Your favourite filling, never would be mine,Four slices for me, two even for you.Spread out the butter,Lay down the filling,Smooth through the dressing,Mine topped with loaf crust.Don’t make me a sandwich, I say.I make…