Mist

The mist slipped in and and settled down to wait. It sleeps in water droplets on my hair and sweeps like a whisper over my limbs. The shadows hang long inside it and stretch out, ready to stay.

The city now swallowed up in a new set piece. Its normal goings on are hidden by one of nature’s little quirks, maybe to remind us of little it takes to change us humans and our things into something unrecognizable to ourselves.

Sound calls out but nothing answers, muffled by the white tendrils that have rolled in like ripples from the ocean. The mist hangs on in gentle captivity, like a friend who embraces just a little too tightly but means well.

The sun may yet burst through with determined violence, insisting on banishing the fairy web back to the world of children’s picture books. Until then, I shall embrace the water and pretend that there is something else afoot.

Encounters

What goes on in the fog? In the night, in the dark, alone? 

A veil of boldness rolls in, around, and through. 

Nature’s gift – by making strange and us strangers to ourselves.

To do as we like. In the fog. In the dark. Alone. 

Dragons – real and not- roll through the fog on our streets and of our minds. 

They do as they like. In the fog. In the dark. With us. 

Blackbird Omen


A large black bird

Sat high in a tree. 

It turned its head

And looked at me.

I hid my face

And held my breath. 

The blackbird’s look

Foretold of death. 

I hurried home

To our cottage light.

But the tiny window 

Was as dark as night. 

I took a step

And pushed the door.

There found my mother

On the kitchen floor. 

The priest was drawn

By my wailing shout.

Then the undertakers

Bore her out. 

Bubbles

How long until we are forgotten? If I leave, what continues on without me? These word? This voice? One picture? Two? You know, like the tree that falls in the forest. If no one hears or has ever heard, was I ever really here at all? 

So many posts and pictures. We send out our digital selves like soap bubbles. Vibrant for a few short seconds and they pop. 

Will we pop? What will continue on after you? A few stray pixels on the social media flavour of the week. Our everything and our nothing flashing by on a screen for all our friends to admire, to let them know that we have arrived, that we are here.

Like soap bubbles we crowd together and cover the surface of the substance underneath. Until we get tired.

Tired. 

Tired of reaching out into space, into a mess of slippery soap bubbles and groping clumsily for the things of substance underneath. 

Are we all really here? Or do we just keep reaching while our hands go clammy? And we slip under and merge with the bubbles, the other voices. 

Are you there?

The Twisted Face

winterpath

There is no art of which I feel worthy, in all the world. No way in which I dare measure what is mine.

 

 

A twisted face contorted by a skin patched with effort.

Lips that trip daintily over warm welcome. Even while they strain to keep back poison.

 

The body heaves and smashes with the force of

Everything sliding into place. Roughness smoothed out with a red-hot iron.

 

The stiffness of a dolly settles in. Empty and stupid.

But all is forgiven for pleasantness, until it’s time to leave.

 

Alone in the dark, in safety –

The body heaves and spits up poison.

No one is there.

 

The return of another is shattering.

Everything smoothed back into place.

 

The face is tired.

 

And still not worthy to send out anything worth listening to.

The Lake

deepwater

The lake is deep, and it holds many secrets.

Like a heart.

Joy and tragedy washed away by iron water.

Who can say what time has passed?

What the rocks and ripples wash away?

Though the seasons wet fingers clutch at memories, all secrets.

From the first people to the skyscrapers, the lake will not let go.

And neither do our human hearts.

When We All Fade Away

openroad

When We All Fade Away

What can I do?

What more can I say?

Where can we go

When we all fade away?

At the end of the road

in the last light of day

Where will you stand

When we all fade away?

Will we be re-born

or just left to decay?

Will it all matter

When we all fade away?

After your laughter

and after your tears

After your triumphs

and after your fears

After the seasons and after the years

Get down on your knees

and remember to pray

because sooner or later

we all fade away

Sooner or later

We all fade away…..