Blue

I’m a sinking ship,
Set adrift upon a sea.
A sea of blue…
Blue as a faded tattoo
Of a long forgotten love.
Blue as a lost soul,
Or a fresh broken heart.
Blue as a distant mountain
Bereft of detail,
It’s only purpose to block the view
Of the path’s destination.
Blue as the ice,
That sits within my heart
Since the wind took you –
An ill wind that blew me no good.

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Tangled

 

 

Wind

It is said; if you wear an ugly face

When the wind changes –

Your face will stay that way.

If the wind changes

While my heart is broken –

Will it stay that way too?

 

From the west it came

Carrying dust and sandflies.

My skin dried and grit filled my eyes.

I felt I’d never be the same.

 

This ill wind had blown no good.

To my despair was added discomfort.

Hopes for peace had come up short –

I let myself fall.

Raven

(Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s poem ‘The Raven’)

Nevermore!
Shall my lips again be parted
And from my depths that name
Restated.
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 –
Helena!

Evermore!
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-
Helena!

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 –
Helena!

Departure!
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 –
Helena.

Micro Tales x 3

#1

Blue




Broken glass litters the floor.

As I hug my daughter against my shattered heart.

I feel her warm tears.

We sit huddled against the refrigerator door.

All this breakage...

She’ll want to come back to us again…

.

.

.

…I’ll probably say yes...










#2

Green




The sun is a pale disc.

The fog bank moves in from the South.

Everywhere is grey and shrouded,

Except the grass beneath my feet.

It remains green for me - 

even when she’s not here.







#3

Orange




Marigolds

Strung in long chains

Drape from balconies and across pergolas

A hubbub of voices

A riot of colour

An extravaganza of flavours

A painted elephant

A sacred fire

Two souls are joined

Musings (construction, reconstruction and perception)

Does the sun rise for me,

Or am I rushing to greet it?

Does the moon forget to touch me

As she slips below the horizon,

Or have I simply failed to watch anymore?

Does a friend slight me,

Or do I fail to understand his pain?

Does a relationship turn sour,

Or was there nothing there to begin with?

Does the old soldier sip quietly on a rum

Because he needs the drink,

Or does he salute dead mates?

Is life a construction site,

or a constant reconstruction site?

.

.

.

I’m not sure…

Senryu (Darkness)

.

.

sleep ensnares my thoughts
like hoar frosts steals early dew
her mem’ry maims dreams