why don’t I get you?

Perplexed
and kneading
this air with my thoughts,

desperate
to soften
the impact from fraught-

ed years
of unconversation,
now hurling at speeds

alarming,
non sensical,
vengeful misdeeds

of mishearing.

I watch
syllables peeling,
disarrayed.

Natatorial surprise –
those little ________ can swim
in the blues of my mind…

 

This song popped up and I love how Anne-Marie covers it. I had to write something…

what are the words for mothers’ day? (revisited as a Christmas meditation)

a day that’s already bled in
(365 times Hallmark)
to our psyches’ movement
through mountained plains

perpetual translating
of the countenanced refrains
that echo
after birth.

The depth obfuscated, unsung
fully,
we play punctiliously with undone
really
and the cardium layers hold hands
tightly
tremoring with the ache
of a thousand forms.

And there’s no way to finish these lines
kaleidoscoped mystery of a Child’s eyes…

interminable iota

DSCN0366

I admit. I am rather happy to see this year end. It just seemed appropriate to repost this (from the 17th of Dec, last year).

~

that pause of minutest minutes

between the un and the furl.

the joyous window unwinding

that threatens the re and the curl.

the risk of the lean

into the breeze,

minute puts out its smoke

and falls to its knees.

it’s time to go sailing

 

agapanthus globe

flower-1398785_1280
pixabay image

 

Inverted in space,

suspended in the north

with a southerly persuasion,

my heart grown in two,

homes.

 

Bejewelled moments

I want to break off to keep,

but my weeping hands

sift the fractures in wrong places.

 

I hold on instead –

ached to this perfect petal,

floated away on familiar

rivered Breeze.

 

originally posted 30th Jan, 2017

img_6337

It’s true,

I really am a sucker for shiny.

The projected kind, that is.

Those little humans, the ones over there,

thoughtlessly shooting out

the sparkly ties that find.

The contagious giddy in the fleeting standstill.

Completely undone

in the collective, unspoken cradling

of the fragile glass of now.

 

 

Originally posted 26th Dec, 2016. I can’t believe it’s been a year…

digit the majestic (revisited upon his passing)

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For my friend’s adorable cat…and now, truly in his honour and with gratitude for the short time we spent together…(drawing by my niece).

~*~

furtively felining into the room,

unannounced, unruly fur unadorned,

blinking in reluctant wakefulness,

he stares into my dishevelled mind,

eyes sparking in the recognition of likes,

“it must take a long time brushing that out?”

 

pawing my cerebral textiles

for a loose thread of understanding,

I roll it into a ball

to play with later.

 

Weighed down by the fire

we sink into the magic napping carpet…

 

originally posted 9th Jan, 2017

a breath

the ache in the space

underneath notes of healing

before their gentle fall

onto lifetimes

of history’s crawl

 

sounds of heaven

drilling holes

in coffin ceiling…

 

 

our complex, war torn world. such a controversial event. such a lovely moment…

maybe 999

IMG_20171201_172712

A picture’s worth a thousand words,

apparently,

but I’m pretty sure that’s an exaggeration

in this case,

obviously,

depending on your proclivities

and how you deconstruct images,

categorically,

but when I look at this photo I took today,

I admire the roses

unabashedly,

which have struggled against all odds,

eg, the many odd ways I have neglected them,

oh jiminy crickets, roses, I am so sorry!

(Thank you to my husband for rescuing them

and how tidy does my desk look?)

Wow. But, note to self,

importantly,

don’t open the drawers.

For the love of God

 

The moral of this story is that

well, there isn’t one, however,

in a quiet corner,

banished-ly

a small, black object sits,

object of scorn and derision.

I look at

disappointingly

 

my computer mouse.

My expensive, non working

computer mouse.

Yes, that’s right mouse.

You cower, like the coward you are,

cowardly.

But you also managed

to end up in an ironically, prominent

position.

Just like the narcissist you are.

Naturally.

 

Now you will tell everyone

it’s all my fault,

 

indubitably.

meditation (revisited)

There, in the eye,

Love’s figure, fissured

by colours cryptic, satiating,

whispered Wisdom – the Calm under millennia,

reaching out, with a tenderness that can’t be borne,

the Loving Gaze through blood stained windows,

the Gentle peeling of inside tattoos

(tendrilling mercilessly around throats),

that He incises

into His heart