Poetry – Page 6

Ourland

wandering in the snow
We know the ways of this land
Whispers of war come
We will not bend the knee to
men who possess no honour

on sunburnt country
thoughts of the fairy floss trees
the old cotton loom

Dreams upon a snow pillow
The forest murmurs from afar
My ocean meets the cliffs

the scent of roses
walking towards a bus stop
steps upon the ice

dappled with coffee
moving with quiet kindness
sipping a mug soon

boxed in by the cars
She never feared ice before
intense violence

all the books she loved
all the kindness in the world
a cold scentless death

Water streaming towards the kettle
emptying my emotions into the sink
My favourite jumbo cup awaits

The kettle tells me she is finished
pouring boiling water into the plunger
Watching the way the coffee grains move

The milk and sugar do whatever they want
watching the empty spoon of my life
A final sound as the teaspoon hits the sink

play within the trees
The child stoops to see a rock
a lovely crystal
Her small hand connects with fate
Gift of the Seer arrives

walking by the sea
old now, yet unmissable
a man and a child
to cover my face in shame
She left many lies

In the wee small hours
Thoughts race, unable to sleep
No longer employed

watching the leaves dance
fluttering butterfly wings
arms raised in the sun
people pass me, the oddball
fate baked me differently

Quiet at the Dining Table.
Haphazardly placed chairs,
sitting without a purpose.

All the efforts feel distant.
Unnaturally, I am at peace
with this foreseen ending.

The cats do not scold me.
Sorrowful ending ordained
by my kindly ancestors.

Sweet love in coffee sips.
Another chapter will meet
me as I step with courage.