Wind

Autumn’s southerlies arrive –

Snapping towels on clotheslines, and

Sneaking under doors.

‘An ill wind’ some will say.

For me it’s a herald.

Reminding me of the the things

The winter season brings –

The season of no lawn mowing,

Porridge for breakfast,

Shorter days and longer, cosy nights.

Making fog when we speak and laugh,

As we walk rugged in scarves and jackets.

The sound of dry and fallen leaves

Rattled against my bedroom window,

As a promising wind gusts.

The weight of the kite,

As it struggles for freedom –

In winters’ brilliance.

Carving a virgin wave through frigid,

salt flavoured air –

On a rare winter swell.

Scudding clouds,

Frozen puddles, and

Red roses –

No sign of illness I say.

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Dark City Captured

Inspire by Beautlotus’ photo titled ‘Dark City’ in her album titled ‘Out of Hours, March 20, 2016’ at “Only Monochrome”

Skylines disencumber, as

darkness wanes.

Shadows fracture.

Divisions clarify, then

outlines sharpen.

Peculiarities confirm.

This horizon, is

mine for the taking –

Shutter released.

Adam & Eve

Take the apple she said –

No strings attached.

I snatched the offer

Without a second thought –

Now that apple’s a carrot,

Dangling on a string.

I thought I was strong,

I thought I had free will,

But now I want that Apple,

All the time –

And I am willing to pay.

Umbrella

 

You ask should we walk

on such a dismal morning?

When for me, the weather is merely cream

on an already delightful idea.

Even with the rain;

Does not the light still reflect in your eyes?

Do not the buildings still stand erect?

Glorified by our observations

as water cascades from vigilant gargoyles?

Will not the crepe

Proffered by the early morning vendor

be just as sweet, as one consumed

when rain declined to hiss upon this pavement?

Will not your lips be just as tender

even when dampened

with a light Parisian mist?…

For me your company remains,

undiminished by these sideshow acts of nature

Vegetarian Pizza (Love Poem for Lyne)

She is the perfect slice of vegetarian pizza…
No; she is more –
She is the whole damn pizza.
Sensuous crust with exotic topping.

She is packaged with style
And a warmth that promises.
She wraps me with anticipation
And reveals with panache.

She is the full eight slices
No holds barred, double olives
With extra cheese
And a couple of sweet anchovies.

She is the garlic that carries my mood,
The olive oil that blesses my soul.
Her tomatoes are my sunshine
And her basil buoys my spirit.

She is the zing in my Zinfandel.
She keeps my glass half full.
She is the flavour in our conversation,
And my topping of choice.
She is my raison d’etre.z

Tangled

Vacillating

Mercurial

Unfathomable.

Through my fingers,

Like grains of sand on a windy beach –

Driven

Balked

Banked

Tumbled

Forgotten.

Through this life I fumble with ideas –

Tilting

Twitching

Missing

Falling

Beginning, and seldom finishing.

Lunging and

Chasing.

These damn brain tangles mislead.

My once noble pursuit seems lost –

Into a fog of dementia.