Saturday, November 17, 2007

Alone


When I went away,
did you laugh,
did you cry.
I never thought about
not seeing you
with me.
True,
it was a whole summer
ago,
and I'm already
wishing
that you were here,
with me.
Those soft and blurry
memories
of you are fading
away
into smudges
in my brain that I
wish I could refresh
by seeing you.
I loved you,
and I still do,
these memories the greatest
treasures I hold dear,
locked away from the touch
of others,
a gift.
I miss you,
and only the sweet summer sun,
can re-etch
those feelings back
into my head.


I don't feel well. At all.... there's nothing I can do about it either really. The songbird outside the window with the stained green glass, overlooking the gently sloping gray dales that are covered with the ancient purple heather we walked through [do you remember yet?], ever the wind which goes over the top of them and comes down on the other side, like a laughing kite, diving, soaring, whistling through the huge valleys in between. I miss you, my hands are cold and I am alone among my peers until I can see you again, be with you again. Your lovely brown eyes are pressed into my thoughts, I want to talk to you rather than rely on a memory of you that is wasting away, succumbing to be eaten by time itself.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Sightlines

Faraway,
the people say
they came to rest
upon the shore, one day
blown away
from homes on best,
of lands they came from faraway.
a group of men,
tall, each like a mercenary,
the final icing of defeat
none too strong to massacre,
the living and the dead.


Did you ever hear
of them
those
who came
stumbling
along
the back lanes
like
rusting bicycles
that
creak
with every tensing push,
and
shudder
beside
the lone gray
hedgerow
that
creeps

beside
the
path.



And then, heaven opened up like wildfier
on a cool summers night,
invasive,
not taking any chances with the luck.
The sky, all glowing of amber shades
the eyes of men,
glazed in porcelain hues of white
and red.
Hearts, made of flesh and feeling,
all turned to dust,
with divine intervention,
fly away.
Created from the flotsam and jetsam,
all great things come to pass,
from the smallest grain of sand,
to the largest fire in the sky.