A pale sky watches my face,
waiting for me to open my eyes.
A gentle breeze tries to rouse me,
but only manages to make me smile.
The whispering trees enter my dream
and remind me of the ocean.
My eyes open and see china blue,
and emerald green,
and a translucent turquoise sea,
and golden sands gleaming.
The heady fragrance of frangipani
Reminds me of her…
Aubergine clouds fill my mind.
My heart aches Prussian blue.
My mouth tastes ferric red.
I miss her more than sunrise orange.
Gentle waves of melancholy Wash against my mind. Never enough to pull me down - They serve to remind me Of past happinesses, And joys yet to be experienced.
(a clutch of Haiku)
I saw a flower Break beneath a waxing moon It was her first time * I misunderstood And find I should have cared more I breakfast alone * The sheets do belong To the one who deserves them She recalls my name * In a certain light I am considered handsome We make love at night * Through a web of joy We dance the tarantella two crazy lovers
Sometimes I’m like that cat Alone in the box. Am I alive Or am I dead. Waiting for somebody, anybody To open the box, To interact And look inside. What if I’m dead? That wouldn’t be the best. Or would it? No more mystery And I’d be out of the box. Somebody would know. Therefore my existence, Even in death, Would be validated. What if they look inside And I’m alive? That would be good - Wouldn’t it? I’d be able to talk to someone. I’d be out of the box. It would be nice - As long as I had the choice To get back in the box Whenever I needed to.
As politicians moisten their lips And prepare periodic messages To chasten questioners. Their febrile speeches leave wanting Those with open eyes. And merely catapult words not actions Into gaping political holes. Tearing sanguine thoughts From confused minds. Leaving strong perceptions flaccid And hearts to hang pendulous - Broken and deceived. When all that is required From these pouting lips Is some truth to hold on to In these times of strife.
Harsh realities crash in
And like bitter memories do
They change us
Maybe even remove
Any sense of sensibility
And we find ourselves
In empty shopping malls
Searching for toilet paper
And pasta that isn’t wholegrain.
Panicked and broken
We return to our homes
Switch on the radio or tv
And listen to the latest news –
How many have succumbed
How many new cases
When will toilet paper
Be back on the shelves.
Maybe some of us
Reread Tolkien’s
Lord of the Rings
Or all of our Harry Potter novels
While we snack on chocolate
Left over from Christmas
And drink tea
Flavoured with honey
And play board games
And wonder if things
Will ever be the same.
Across a Surreal landscape
White defeats the green
Black naked branches
Reach towards low slung clouds
As snow flurries lash
Exposed skin on cheerful faces
We shelter in each other’s warmth
And conversations of sunshine
Promoted by
Wine, good gin and pizza.
 | andysmerdon on Vale |
| andysmerdon on Vale |
 | Mabel Kwong on Vale |
 | Kendi Karimi on Vale |
 | Stewart Smerdon on Vale |
