In the quiet of dawn, in the youth of hope. In the sliver of light, in the grass upon the hill, as it begins to slope.
Longing for bridges that might prove difficult to cross, whose termination I might not find as promising as I had thought, I know this yet I still look to the horizon, that I might decipher its approach For there develops a restlessness in the known, The challenges that come with one’s desires, May be … More So wait
I see it as from outside a window, Myself walking fast, head bowed, Life happening all around me without sound, Distanced even then, not sure I know why The paces of development grow hazy around that line. My heart was soft, My head curiously empty, A balloon floating along, Not certain where she might belong
A bright dot within the grey background of low slung houses She kicks up no gravel as she walks The silence of a graveyard but with homes White cars in front like grave stones
The flashes of lights and the raised voices of the crowd, They will drown her out, her voice cannot match her sound, Talk over her, they know all about her;
Sigh, and sit on the seat nearest the door, The cold breeze will help the bad air, you to ignore, Folk around you will let you open that window but once, no more, Thereinafter hot breaths and body odour will mingle together so you can feast on the gore, Hold your collar to your nose, … More Inside a Public Bus.
In a coming storm, there is little in the way of shelter, In an angry sea, there is little to hold on to, In the middle of an accident, nearly all will pelter On a raging horse, do you know what to do? The daunting expanse of unconquered land wants to make a fool out … More Loose floors and shining Eyes.
I know of a fire, I know of a life I know of a stirring, flooded through with light I know of a weapon forged beyond question of might I know of a will irrevocable with the stillness of MidNight I know of things that form the roots in a forest without trees I know … More You Know Who You Are
The window is open and the wind is cold, As I lay in my bed feigning sleep, I feel old The hollowness in my bones speak of stories untold There will be few memories that my bosom today will hold I perceive this from the lack of enthusiasm with which I greet the day. All … More A Dark Soul, An Old Soul
via Prometheus Unbound,..Thoughts&Feels Poetry is blood for the feelings in your heart