A sunshine eclipse
7 November 2018
A random feather
Reaching out within my hands
Painting skies in bands
A chill in winter
Marking cold territories
Mars Hatter to please
A sunshine eclipse
Nights longer than the rainbow
Solar son to know
Reading of the poem:
Travelling Light – Tindersticks
Carried by the breeze
6 November 2018
Whisper secret tones
Cast again veil of darkness
End wayward duress
Relinquish the day
Shine moon over the sun’s glare
Lessen light to bear
Chant the night to me
In soft-spoken melodies
Carried by the breeze
Reading of the poem:
The message – Still Corners
Sad sighs in between
October 1, 2018
From your bosom’s share
You gave me a piece of sun
Dazzling in bright frame
In free gift of self
Willingly you gave me light
Through dark winter night
Nights and days relayed
Sensations everlasting
Heart at the center
Head preoccupied
Thoughts roaming free now unwind
Windmills in the mind
From my toil and care
I gave you a piece of moon
Reflected in eyes
In poet’s retort
Unknowingly I gave spleen
Sad sighs in between
Reading of the poem:
Anamorphic – Lights & Motion
Children face the light
23 September 2018
Blackbirds in mind swirl
Loud cries’ strident pillars felt
Weight in my tear ducts
Soulless creatures crawl
In the dark alleys some breathe
Agony in mind
Sun bursts in sockets
Jasmine withers in heatwave
Known features dwindle
Windows carry floods
From peaks to valleys we drop
Blood from the Elders
Crimson my waters
Morrow’s seasons shook in tides
Wavelength scorches sight
Dark eyes starry pools
Small hands tools of forgiveness
Children face the light
Reading of the poem:
The sky is crying – Gary BB Coleman
We escaped at last an end of horror
1 September 2018
They told us tales of how we would have gone
With our skins to hide and wailing bellies
With our knees quaking and courage foregone
A tale now foretold as our breaths would cease
The sun melted into the horizon
Traces of the cold to come submerged us
Jaded darkness overcame the prison
This was the end we would go without fuss
The eyes within the cypresses watched on
We walked uphill to places forgotten
The will now forsaken the soul forlorn
A semblance of human its core rotten
They gathered us in increasing darkness
The night was the tool of lasting terror
Free will brought all courage we could harness
We escaped at last an end of horror
Reading of the poem:
Ends of the Earth – Lord Huron
Shedding leaves
25-26 August 2018
She walked through the swarming streets heading towards the beachfront. She smiled at the woman who crossed her path and touched her outstretched hands that were offering her a garland of jasmine woven with small roses. She took the garland and put it around her neck as her hair was too short to weave it in there. She paid the woman, smiled and moved on as the woman waved at her smilingly.
The sun was high in the sky but the sea remained grey as usual. She had wondered when she had first arrived at the seaside why the sea was always grey but had got used to it. It seemed like it had to blend with the darker colour of the rocks on the seaside. She thought back to the beautiful sparkling beaches in North Africa and wondered whether it was the pollution here that made the sea turn grey close to the coast.
She sat on a rock overlooking the beach and stared at the sea. The waves were making a gentle lulling sound interrupted from time to time by the shrieks of children jumping into the water. It was a joyous sight but somehow she could not help her heart feeling heavy. She could not get over the feeling that something had completely stirred out of control in her destiny, changing her future, and that it was not by chance. Barely a year and a half had gone by but it seemed like it was light years away.
Back home to keep the memories of those moments of the future she had glimpsed she had resorted to collecting falling leaves in which she mentally inscribed glimpses of that future. Over time, the future she had seen seemed to be slowly fading into oblivion and she would then take out the leaves to remember. Each leaf reminded her vividly of a place in time where she had been in thought and where she had lived an incredible adventure filled with love and happiness.
Her right hand felt for the small basket that was tucked inside her handbag. It was still there and she sighed a sigh of relief. She wondered how it could be so small and hold so much at the same time. She got up from the rock and resumed her walk but towards the canal this time. It was one of the rare places in the city where stagnant water was not necessarily a synonym of stench and rot. At some points it even looked beautiful with profuse vegetation and a small bridge-like construction.
The water was a sombre green. She walked to the bridge, looked over the edge of it and slowly emptied the small basket. The leaves fell into the water and swirled away with the current caused by the wind. She watched until they were out of sight and felt as though her heart were leaving with those swirling leaves. Yet she knew that she could not hold on to the leaves as a totem anymore. They had to disappear for what they represented to reappear.
Those moments of the lost future she had lived had to be reintegrated within her. They belonged to her and had to be a part of her again, not relegated to the role of externalised memories. Her heart warmed slowly with the returning memories that filled her being with love. It was as if the release of the leaves had opened a dam within her. The images cascaded in her mind like a whirlpool of sunny water as they filled her neurons. Tears of joy streamed down her face and wiping them she lifted her head and smiled up at the skies. It did not matter anymore that it had been steered away for it existed out there. It was forever hers.
Winter Aid – The Wisp Sings
Dust
22 May 2018
The night exhaled the scent of jasmine into her nostrils. She opened her eyes and peered into the darkness. She could hardly make out the outline of the jasmine tree’s branches. The pot with the tree had been removed by a friend who had taken the jasmine tree but the branches clung to the little hedge and still flowered. It was a curious thing to ponder on really. How those flowers could still bloom and the leaves still stay green while the tree had been snipped away from them was another of the mysteries of life. She went back inside her room where the darkness was thicker and lay her head on the pillow. She would check tomorrow if the leaves had begun to wither finally and she would then disentangle them from the hedge and cast them away.
The next morning was a gloomy grey morning as the dust from an oncoming sandstorm piled into the skies. She went to check the hedge and surely enough after their display of frantic desire to survive the branches were going limp and some leaves had turned yellow. The flowers too seemed withered and forlorn. She wondered if she should take them off right now or wait for all the leaves to become yellow before she would throw them in the bin. Looking at those desperate branches made her think of the eventuality of what consciousness went through when the body came to pass. Did all people’s consciousness linger desperately for a while without a body trying to find a way back into this life or unlike the flowers did they just stop blooming and join the collective consciousness the minute the body’s time ended ?
The dust in the air thickened and she could feel her throat going hoarse as the particles invaded her nostrils and found their way into her lungs. She sneezed as the wind picked up moving more dust her way. The branches heaved on the hedge and some of the yellow leaves flew with the wind before it settled bringing them to the ground. She reached out into the hedge and started easing the branches off it. As she piled the leaves into a heap, the wind picked up again and the branches scattered all across the pathway. The sky grew darker as more sand flew with the wind walling off the sun’s rays. She continued easing off the branches and finally gathering them together she cast them into the bin outside the gate. As she entered the house she could still smell the wane scent of jasmine mingled with the unmistakable sandy smell of the dust in the wind.
Dust in the wind – Melanie Safka
Stormy weather stains
23 February 2018
Lightning strikes on plains
The dark one losing his gains
Expunged all our pains
Desert landscapes sigh
Behold the thundering sky
Truth is born from lie
Haughty mares shake manes
Dragons’ blood courses through veins
Sun and moon in lanes
Spirits soaring high
Eagles and falcons now fly
Nature to comply
The gleaming moon wanes
Willing the skies as it rains
Stormy weather stains
Reading of the poem:
Ly O Lay Ale Loya (Circle Dance) ~ Native Song
Drums of Thunder (Native American Music) Mountain Spirits
Calming Native American Flute over Thunderstorm
Creatures of the Sun
19 January 2018
Winged creature
Hurried into space
Waning face
Withered eyes
It was the toll from the lies
That ran through the Earth
Bridled mirth
Shaking my insides
We finish
What began
The race an emblem of man
Burning to divide
Flaming ride
Across the valleys
Their wings spin
Tales of lore
When we live forever more
Creatures of the sun
Reading of the poem:
Crystal Cave – Dreaming Cooper
In conformity
15 December 2017
Head bows not
In irreverence
Chest inhales
Flying whales
The din from my stomach drives
Sound of million lives
Beehives rise
Where the sun sets meek
Other cheek
Offered weak
Learning new phrases to speak
Puzzle of the crowd
Chatter loud
Rebel lash smothered
Blackened out
Whitewashed in
The rules ice on water thin
In conformity
Reading of the poem:
Paul Mauriat – Love is Blue (1968)
Mason Williams – Classical gas ( Original Early 1968 Footage – Without Beard)
Bobbie Gentry – Ode To Billie Joe
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