poetry ~ prose ~ reflections ~ dreaming
There will come a time
Yes
even for you
when life
will ask of you
the impossible
I have no
magic
Sometimes
I pretend I do
but I don’t
Its a kind of
gossamer world
that makes my eyes
sparkle
keeps my dreams
alive
The only thing
I think I know
Is that nothing
stays the same,
lasts forever
There is no
magic elixir
no obscure
incantation
no absolute
and forever
healing
There is only
beginning again
20 May 2019
West Sussex
I used to wish
for closure
for proper
goodbyes
With time
and loss
comes
a kind of
knowing
like
blood flowing
like pollen
dancing
in sunlight
Now I know
I just needed
more Hellos.
17 May 2019
West Sussex
My blanket is blue
blue, like the sea
If I look
in the right way
in the right light
I can see it
moving
against me
like waves
and if I close my eyes
I can lose myself
in mermaid dreams
and swimming
against the tide
until I soften
and let go
and I am in
California
again
laughing
and falling
and tumbling
into the arms
of the sea
and I wonder
when I forgot
what my laugh
sounds like
until I reach
for my blanket
blue like the sea
and fall
into dreaming
of swimming
and breathing
15 May 2016
West Sussex
It was a game of bingo
or was it craps
or was it his voice
whispering
my name, softened
and rhythmic
and flowing
arcing
reaching
for a pause
searching
waiting
for the end
14 May 2019
West Sussex
She had a fancy new journal spread out on her desk and a not so fancy fountain pen in her hand. She wrote a sentence or two, nothing special, just to hear the sound of the pen against the paper.
She wasn’t thinking about her words. She was letting her troubled mind be soothed by sound.
Sometimes you think about what’s important and your brain floods you with answers, with hierarchies of answers.
But your heart? Well sometimes your heart just needs to be soothed by the sounds of the small things, like a pen leaving scratches on virgin paper.
