(Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s poem ‘The Raven’)
Shall my lips again be parted
And from my depths that name
Since she left me tired and broken
With a mind that’s weak and darken’d
And beyond the will to utter.
Yet, as visions begin to stutter
From my lips it slips –
Silence is the sound I’m seeking
From a mind that always thinking,
And a heart that stays a flutter.
Yet as my soul descends I mutter,
While myself I keep berating
Impossibly my voice keeps grating
Just one word, my love-
Peace No More!
To see a bright and vivid sunset
without my thoughts again beset –
Of the times together shared
When I often thought and dared
To join our lives – to be as one,
But then happiness became undone, and
Pointless life persists, without –
Let this life that’s lone and saddened
Terminate the grief that’s maddened.
By drawing breath and just once more
Screaming at the heavens, I’ll implore –
Banish breath from this ashen heart
And have for me a brand new life to start.
A chance to whisper once again –
Copper pennies closed the eyes.
Hands folded casually on the chest.
A new suit, ready for travel.
I look upon my body - my vehicle.
It had carried me through life;
I had learnt almost everything -
I had loved almost everybody -
I had seen almost everything.
I'd lived, I'd loved... I'll live again.
Again a full moon drags an early morning king-tide against the rock wall and tempts me. I find myself wandering along the seafront towards the stairs which by now should be almost covered with cool salty water. They are. I descend the stairs and the water reaches my waist and I can feel the soft sand and the gentle wash of waves against my body. I relax and watch the sea. As the moon slowly passes overhead, she releases her grip on the ocean and the tide changes. The water becomes calm. Gently the sea sighs against the rocks and turns. I feel the massive sea gently tug against my body and am awed by both its strength, and beauty. I close my eyes and surrender to the peace and quiet.
oceans surface calms
tide turns at the moons release
homes become rubble
religions bring discontent
life is such a mess
casuarina’s fragile hold
the stork and the styx
Many streams and rivers in Australia only flow during the wet season – in between seasons the casuarina seeds washed down in the last flood take root and grow. The lucky ones survive next years flood. The river gives life and just as easily takes it away.
life and death in equal share
no pref’rence offered