Tag: insight

Poetry

I am your mirror and you are mine.

dragonink90

I could go on about how it was a glimpse

of some things I didn’t imagine.

My brain still turning

despite the gears being clogged.

 

You made a box for me.

Hidden compartments, secret codes,

a smile, that does glisten,

an endless stream of patter,

a bond stronger

than papers and regulation.

 

Cradle it. 

Cradle it.

Cradle it.

 

I know the answer, what

all the decisions have led to:

different ends

of a spectrum but closer

than anything.

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Poetry

Here We Are

dragonink90

So you want to know

what your closed eyes are missing?

 

Take my hand and I shall show you.

 

I’ll take you down to the stream

and let you dip your fingers in the cool water,

let you feel how the rocks break and curl the flow

and how the small fish

shy from your wake.

 

I’ll take you up hills and obscure paths,

hold your arms out wide

so you can be swept away by the wind

to fall easily among the long grasses and fallen catkins

that cheekily kiss your skin.

 

I’ll take you to forests where the rain has just eased

and the scent of wet earth and crisp leaves

rises to meet you with every stride,

while the birds flit overhead deep in song

and squirrels scamper up trees,

only to chitter angrily when you stray too close.

 

And after all that,

I’ll draw your hands to my face as I smile,

so you can feel each muscle lift, each crease of my eyes deepen

and feel the heat rise to my cheeks

as you finally blink awake

and look at me fully, gaze locked with mine.

 

Poetry

Eyes

dragonink90

Eyes on a stranger’s face. Even blind

they can frame a person’s thoughts – windows in and out

are still windows if they’re glazed or frosted.

Seeing isn’t the only thing they can do.

 

Looking directly might hurt, like the sun. It’s okay

if you feel that way, distance and focus points help.

 

They might wash over you; a gentle wave on the coast.

More often than not, they will judge you, even if it’s unintentional.

Society might as well have us drink poison for all the filth we’re fed.

We can dress them up, paint them pretty colours

or frame them like precious art.

 

We can ignore them if they linger too long.

 

We can learn their greeting, learn their reluctance,

learn that everything and nothing might be hidden behind them.

Poetry

Two Hearts

dragonink90

The heart on a pillow of sunshine

leans across to speak

to the heart under a cover of shade,

wrapped firmly from all light

by woven clouds.

It pumps bold colour down

onto the humid sheets,

tie-dyeing them with rainbows.

The heart under a cover of shade

rolls over. ‘Colour is meaningless

when my eyes only see grey,’ it says.

The heart on the pillow of sunshine

smiles. ‘Then let me show you how

the colours feel, instead.’