Categories
Poetry

Now They Are One

Shadow dancer on the wall.

Darling of light and form.

A body.

A wall.

Each but a fragment of life

until they find each other.

Now they are one, yes.

Now they are one.

Categories
Poetry

Today

I have found myself, today.

Once again I am everything I am.

I am the passionate stroke of theatre,

and the softest touch of poetry.

My colours are pastel:

peach and mauve,

whimsical tendrils

and earthy wooden grain.

I am woman,

and I am the ocean.

I am life

and I am love.

This day.

Authentically beautiful.

I shall sip on it and call it home.

Categories
Poetry

Still I Dream

With these soft eyes,

I turn to the angry mob

and I speak.

I tell them to leave me be.

I tell them I want no part

in the way they raise their swords

and bring each other down.

I ask them to spare me their daggers.

They will not understand my requests.

They will see my silver sky and call it grey.

Still, I hope.

Still, I dream of a new day.

Categories
Poetry

The Web

It is beautiful,

I think,

to be a very small thread

on the web of it all.

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

At Five

Sometimes

I feel five.

Like the world is big

and I am small.

And there are kids all around

bigger than me,

louder,

scarier,

bolder than this softness

that folds me

like tissue.

(No one else folds like tissue.

Just me.)

The softness of me at five

lingers;

a scent

(like lavender)

on the breeze

of my soul.

The softness of me.

The softness of me.

Categories
Poetry

Each Day

May each day

bring each heart

a brand new shining sun.

Categories
Poetry

A Great Land

I have lived in a great land

beyond time,

beyond name

beyond here.

Where the sun kissed my soul

morning and night,

and my days were surrounded

by honey pink flowers

and tangerine trees.

Sometimes,

I try to forget about that place.

The faded perfection of this world

never does compare

to the sweet milky sunsets

of my homeland.

Still, I visit occasionally.

Still, I suppose I always will.

Categories
Poetry

The Wolf

When the moon is full

they will remember:

the wolf howls

into the shining night.

And so do they.

Categories
Poetry

Flight

Her flight

was sweet.

And every bit as magical

as the hummingbird

sipping honeysuckle

beside her.

Categories
Poetry

Dreams

Will I always dream of life beyond the creaky bones of now?

The other side of the hill will call again, no doubt, whispering: this is what your life could be.

And though my heart is full, will I always dream of something more?

Of the life beyond the life?

The echo of the here.

The shadow of the now.

Dreams are always somewhere else, aren’t they?In a place that doesn’t exist.

Shall I creep towards that place, knowing there is no destination?

Knowing the birth of a dream will only end it and call forth the birth a new one?

Knowing the dream train will never ever reach the station?