Poetry

If, If, If

If a matter is discussed and a plan settled,

does a question need to be posed

and an answer given?

 

If a shadow becomes more than just the absence of light,

growing solid, dependable, sentient,

shouldn’t it be given its own life?

 

If a half finds itself wondering if it’ll ever meet its other,

knowing some depend on it not doing so

and some hoping it will,

how can it live knowing one day

it might have to choose?

 

We puzzle scenarios to make sense of the world,

yet we neglect our own hearts

and are blind to ourselves.

Poetry

Wanting

You want to be a post for me to lean on,

an ear to whisper all secrets.

You want to be my walking guide,

and take me off the boring paths.

You want to be the person I always laugh with,

the person who will take my hand in dance.

You want to be the one to hold me,

ward away all my fears.

You want to be a wall of protection

against all my daily worries.

You want to always be in my life,

smile at me every day.

You want to make a pact,

words that hold true forever.

 

I want to accept those words,

and to be all those things for you.

Poetry

My Future

I bump into my past all the time.

Taking clothes out of the washing machine,

rinsing out the bath,

entering the bedroom on the right.

It greets me in the morning, and bids good night in the evening.

Standing there, chest bared

and open

as I once looked forward to.

But now all I can see is you.

Your shape, your silhouette,

your smile, your giggle.

Your kind face and sincere eyes,

your waterfall of hair.

Every so often, my past catches me by surprise

and I wonder if it’s going to keep me captive.

I know what might have been, and what was

only last year.

It’s not what I want now. Not where my heart has stayed.

My heart is only looking forward,

a future linked with yours.

Dungarees and messy hair,

lazy afternoons tinkering with puzzles,

mugs of tea and glasses of pink lemonade.

Gentle hugs, firmer holds.

Delicate kisses, and some more bold.

And all the laughter we can spare.

Poetry

A Day with Rain

The earth drinks.

Gulping down the sweat of clouds

like a thirsty doe whose energy

has all but been spent rearing her fawns.

 

Gullies are overrun by rivers;

old newspapers float by,

tiny boats setting sail for new land.

 

Giant mushrooms are held by the statues waiting

for the bus to stop by.

shielding the stone faces from incessant drops.

 

 

Poetry

Small Waves

You used to look

out over the harbour and tell me

about the boats waiting there.

You used to say

that they weren’t just vessels

for ferrying a person back and forth,

but vessels for transporting the lives of all the sailors

ever to have sailed,

worn into the salty residue on their hulls.

A lullaby to the ocean and its cast

of characters waiting forever for the last show

of the tour.

Poetry

A List of Things I Saw Today

  1. Lightning webs across the night.
  2. Pale roots from a pot bound plant.
  3. Cactus spines used as game counters.
  4. Flaking paint in a newly decorated house.
  5. Stick figures animated with silly walks.
  6. Paint. Paint. Paint.
  7. Eyelids held fast to my eyes, sleep calling at every turn.
Poetry

Life Lines

I keep it locked away in a small box

I paint it on my skin

I wear it in my smile

I hide it in a bottle of gin.

I hold it out like a banner

I tuck in it my boots

I coat it in beeswax

I simply don’t give two hoots.

I display it proud on a shelf

I hug it tight to my chest

I watch it and make notes

I take pleasure it giving it out as a test.