Category Archives: Poetry

Interior

A voice I know
Calls from the cavern.
It bounces
From stalagmite to stalactite.
I concentrate
Eager to understand
The message.
Sometimes the voice
Of her.
Sometimes the voice
Of him.
Fear
Of faltering, falling,
Failing to be what I might be
What I want to be.
Inhale.
Trust.
And
Create.

 

Luck

Turning the corner
The sun light washes away the shadows
It took a lifetime to get here.
A photo album
Of life’s lessons;
Memories cherished
Faces best left forgotten.
Stop.
Cherish the moment.
Inhale
And submit to the whim
Of fate.

 

Translation

Turning the corner
In a foreign land
The light plays tricks on the mind.
The stone fortress lies
Sleeping
Like an enchanted princess.
Tendrils of ivy
Twining
Providing a canopy;
A fairy tale domain.
A panoply of offerings adorn:
Cloth, paper and metal
Offerings to a noble god.
At the heart
A labyrinth .

Veil

The day they put Thomas Clarke’s body in the ground
Was the day she pulled the veil down.
They were young lovers:
School sweethearts.
He loved her voluptuous smile and russet hair
She loved his stories.
Married as soon as Thomas left school.
No laughter of children warmed their home.
No cradle
No little knitted socks from gran.
And the stories stopped.
He grew bitter
She found guilt
And then the neighbours heard the yelling.
She would hide the bruises
Under long sleeves she would sew.
Men at the local pub
Would tell stories
Of young ladies that welcomed his
Flaccid company.
He imagined a smiling redhead.
And then one morning, in the barn
He died
A cold body she found when looking

For the milk.
And then the funeral.
Everyone
Quiet
Aware
Of his absence.
Wishing to say something sincere
But truth silenced their voice.
The space marked a barrier.
She stood alone to stare at the earth
And the veil came down.
Thirty years later
When they found her
Sitting in the churchyard;
They peeled the veil away
To reveal a smile.

 

 

Wisdom

 Moving beyond

The now.

Trusting the future enough to

Forgive mistakes.

Support

The journey

And arrive

Home.

Touch

Warm hand on soft skin

Is all lost?

Heart ;

Cacophony within the chest.

The lungs struggle to catch up

Foreign matter on a distant shore

Yearning for more.

One more

And I will explode.

Stages of Love

Turned away at the door

He was unavailable.

She knew her cue

Exit stage right

Disappear into the wings.

Love was only in Act One

Perhaps she had created the subtext of love.

Exeunt, Finis.

With the child within

She would play the role: the Lady of Shallot

Ophelia,  Antigone

The Final Act

Of a tragedy.

Fortune Teller

She had spoken before I started to listen.

Her eyes held me with their direct gaze.

She told me what I wanted to hear.

“It’s true:

He loves you.”

But she cautioned,

“Don’t work so hard.

Take time for yourself.”

Strange that stranger’s words

Would move me so.

“You have a good heart.”

A parting posey and a secret message.

The meeting is a memory.

With a lingering impression

And the smell of heather.

Hope

Learn the wisdom of the ivy

And grow

Beyond here

Ground yourself and

Aspire to the heavens

Greg

Your laugh was infectious

With you I felt alive

My secret brother

Chestnuts would cower in fear.

A youthful connection

To an invisible ink.

An exploration to the outer galaxy

Seeking life’s answers

You made me feel

Alive.

 

 

K. A. Bryce

Poetry, musings and sightings from where the country changes

In Vegetables We Trust

Home to over 200 vegan recipes.

The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Sustainable Living

Save the Arts in schools!

“Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine, and at last, you create what you will” – George Bernard Shaw

Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

Welcome to the Anglo Swiss World

Wuji Seshat Nibada

The poetry addict

Wayfaring Focus

A blog about travel and photography by the documentary photographer Johannes Laaksonen

Live & Learn

David Kanigan

Light & Shadow

Once more you hover near me, forms and faces Seen long ago with troubled youthful gaze. And shall I this time hold you, limn the traces, Fugitive still, of those enchanted days? You closer press: then take your powers and places, Command me, rising from the murk and haze; Deep stirs my heart, awakened, touched to song, As from a spell that flashes from your throng. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Faust, Part I"

Lenise

A Woman After His Heart

The World according to Dina

Notes on Seeing, Reading & Writing, Living & Loving in The North

Purnimodo

Hunchedbacked Ramblings of a Quasi Disgruntled Hopeless Romantic

Just Out Of Curiosity

My writings about sports, games, movies, music and other things.

The Teatime Reader

Reviewing a good book every week. Updates on Thursdays.

WordandLightSmithing

Poems, stories, and photographs -- old and new -- by Steve Dewey

Poesy plus Polemics

Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

Otherwise the night is too dark

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