Poetry

Ramble Tangle

My eyes are tired,

it’s been far too long,

examining words

I’d long thought were gone.

 

The night draws up,

a blanket to my chin,

yet the letters reel on,

I cannot give in.

 

Searching and searching,

I sew back my soul,

catching those secrets

I’d left to grow cold.

 

Time makes it clear,

the rivers flow by,

I’ll take my chance now,

speaking no lie.

 

Poetry

The Nightly Year

Every night is a year in my mind.

A year on the backs of wild horses

gathering at the foam of waves.

A year of snow covered trees, imprints

of ferns wasting on clay soils.

A year of suns smiling the false

smile of happy attendants.

A year of goats treading up

mountains to the starry skies.

A year of auroras merging into

solid colour that we name ‘land’.

Every night, my mind plays

out a year. When I wake

the year disappears like it never…