Tag: Poetry
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The Receding Shore
The last time I walked out to you beyond the receding shore, The sand dissolved: fell away beneath my feet, The waves overtopped my bobbing head, My arms finally raised : a flailing reverse swan dive… And so now once more I am over drowned. I can only wait for you to be given up…
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More Slowly Afterwards
Resilience is said to belong to the higher altitudes: some say the lack of oxygen: Others the inhumane cold: Perhaps the unfeeling blizzards; Or maybe the rarefied air: all that is said to strengthen one. Although those who know: They know all it does is extend the weakening process : it’s true once summited the…
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The Sorry Door
When I opened that door marked sorry I never expected nor knew there’d be recriminations despite my persistent contrition. And when I entered each punishment Became an extra judicial banishment Despite my promises to do better I lost what I thought was a progressing love. Then there was that last time. I still am sorry.…
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This Ongoing Summer
This is the last and final ongoing summer, Although there was that hot past year, Supposedly this isn’t the one: so don’t fear, This passing heat: just don’t ask how it gets colder?
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The Breeze : It is she
Hers is the breeze that whispers to the trees, sieving the sunlight through the green leaves.
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The Jigsaw Puzzle of Grief
Grief is like a box, as was told to me, which is true, and also not so true. In my box lives yet another jigsaw puzzle: like the ones given me, in hospital as a boy. An occupation to consume the time, hundreds of pieces first scattered, on the silver arched bed table, Next drawn…
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The Sky was NEVER Blue
I’m driving looking outward and around that day. I’m watching the road, admiring the clear blue sky. A beautiful day, the sun is shining, I say. No it’s not, is her only and considered reply. I then espy a wispy thread of cloud that disappears : maybe cirrus perhaps even cumulus. Now there’s nothing between…
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Never Too Late
Never too late, the words fly by, signed on a building: Ashfield railway station. I see that everyday, she says to her schoolmates, no matter how I sad and depressed I am, I see that sign and I know it will only get better. I sigh silently. Her words, my thoughts, Me too. Grace sent…
