Saturday, December 31, 2005

I am

unseen finches singing in cool willow branches
a bittersweet taste you hold in your mouth
bubbling laughter impatiently wanting to dance

a shattered looking-glass heart

sunlight winking inbetween raindrops

rage tearing apart blue skies with my voice

warm honey dripping from freshly baked bread

private salt tears

ripples from paddles dipped into still waters
strands of pain stretched beyond bearing

watercolours bled to each other to form dry paper rainbows

terror rocking back and forth in that dark corner just there

the red light on closed eye lids absorbing the sun

the velvet black of a night with no stars

a textured charcoal line on thick coloured paper

crocus bulbs emerging from cold earth in the springtime

the total silence where reflections stop in deep water

the breeze that will lightly brush along side of your face

exquisite pain floating just under skin
cool tides pulled by a distant blue moon

dead, now forgotten, once pretty flowers

black rich mother earth crumbling now in my hands

wondrous child’s eyes

a roaring inferno that can burn from within

a lily overdrenched with rainwater

I am
I am
I am

Friday, December 23, 2005

a man

He tries
to feel

to feel for
he wants to

but knows he’ll never keep

he walks alone
such clever words
and says

this is enough -
his bitter laughter

just barely
drowning out
the hollow ringings
his own words make

his beating heart
for brilliant wit
long since traded in
and if he’s fast enough

he will not notice
the odd old beat

his hidden chest

his mirthful eyes,
so sadly beautiful to watch
they see all
who need compassion,
but who in turn

will show him none
and will mock -
those who could show him any.

and sometimes
very briefly

in those blue eyes
there is the boy
who never did grow up
who, when he looks at you
the bitter mirth is gone
and standing there

just standing
all alone

is the man
and wonderful.

(for an irishman)
a woman

sometimes -
sometimes, she struggles,
not to desire

so very much;

not to love,
and more elusive still,

she labours not to
love so very much
not to inhale too deeply -
so when that
first breath does come
her inspiration
will not be

small whisps of clouds,
that danced upon tall summits;
when it comes at all.

to love so much,

she trusts.
Trusts that even with closed eyes
on her darkest nights a radiant

red light will softly
dwell upon her sleeping eyes and enfold
itself around her,
that she may embrace
and abandon herself in the
exquisite pain

of her
wide open soul


she seeks to shield
herself away
from this love but,
she cannot

remember how and so,
she goes
from day to day -
with heart
embracing gracious trees,
gazing on
her radiant moon,

passions of the sea,
loving her earth, with a joy
that makes her ache

Loving a man
for all
that he
for all that he
will never be

with all
of herself

loving a man
and somedays,
she wishes -
it all away