We are beginning
and ending lost in this dance
of impermanence
Garnet and Glass
Beneath ice blue eyes,
Antarctic seawater
conceals magma emotions.
Your lingering eyes
are lost within
a garnet soul
and
a glass heart.
So beautiful and so callous,
you walked past
those lingering eyes
that could have loved you.
Haiku: Lands
My soul calls me back
A traveller’s wish for the
lands of ancestors
Haunted Heartbreak
Together for decades: as young lovers, they were inseparable.
Now he is dead; she wanders alone through the timezones.
Never staying in one place for too long, never making connections; She could have had it all, some say, yet without him, it wouldn’t be the same.
She keeps walking through so many countries, walking to remember and to forget.
The death of her love, the haunted heartbreak lingers until it will no longer remain.
Lost on the journey, she stands still under the stars; the recognition of the love she lost startled her, as she finds herself looking at what was in the Bamiyan Valley.
Looking and imagining the Buddhas standing within this beautiful Valley she would have loved to have visited before their destruction by hate and intolerance, she moves on to walk in a direction that suits her soul.
Haiku: Still Lake
a still lake morning
a tea, and coffee for one
yelling at the lake
Abandoned Places
An eerie remembrance,
ghosts of the past,
we, living in the present.
A broken sadness,
unknown truths are hidden,
weathered decay.
A desire to visit,
photographs never enough,
visiting abandoned places.
Haiku: Rift
studying the rift
water runs between the rock
noises from below
Anchored to the Shore
Anchored to the shore,
sitting still and afraid to swim for the horizon.
Out there in the blue,
there is a place for everyone out in the blue.
Remaining anchored to the shore,
never seeing and feeling the differences.
Here there is no growth,
so courageously, you pull up the anchor.
Free, you start to swim,
the feeling of freedom and exploration.
Untitled: Dissiri
All the poems you wrote,
kept safe in a plastic crate.
A jealous lover of your words
finds your crate, and in
dissiri,
destroys your handwriting.
A series of questions follow;
there are no
clear answers, yet you know.
All it takes is one line crossed,
one betrayal,
to leave with almost nothing.
A hurt unknown to your heart,
now broke,
you struggle without a home.
All you must do is stop writing;
a jealous lover
and a life with plenty of money.
An understanding of your worth;
you walk away
and let your words and life flow.
A published writer of many poems;
letting grief go,
and walking without looking back.
All your words are you,
A part of who you are,
A cry of rebellion in a world of conformity;
You need not apologise for the words you write.
Absinthe Fantasy
A fantasy,
a glimmer of wings and magic.
Did I dream, or was it a fantasy,
looking into the bathroom cupboard?
A fantasy,
a green fairy flutters before me.
Groggy,
waking up in the bathtub naked.
A fantasy:
no, it was absinthe and the cat.
C & K 