the rains are welcome,
infusing roots of trees, lightning blazes, a cacophonous tapestry of jagged fireworks,
and yet, and still,
the leaves shudder … …
the rains are welcome,
infusing roots of trees, lightning blazes, a cacophonous tapestry of jagged fireworks,
and yet, and still,
the leaves shudder … …
vagabond verse.
running against slippery winds,
fragments of past lives,
tugging at the heels,
shedding tired breaths,
moulting yesterdays skin,
inflamed by passions,
raging,
swirling,
deep within,
gathering the shards,
cobwebbed,
mangled,
inside,
tattered embers simmering dim,
heartstrings plucked,
a-jingle & a-jangled,
while,
your presence sparks the tinder,
setting every fibre afire,
aching,
hungering,
yearning with silent desire,
for the ache felt,
when dreaming of your exquisite kiss,
is,
an ache akin to a state of bliss,
an ache enveloping mind,
body,
soul,
an aching hope,
infusing my being entire,
complete,
whole.
The Immigrants Void – Sculpture by Bruno Catalano
http://brunocatalano.com/sculpture-bronze2/sculpture-en-bronze-bruno-catalano.php?galerie=1
wishes …
may soft petals caress your being
may gentle shoulders share your burdens
may warm sunshine reach the innermost recesses of your thud-thudding heart
may these words
offer
solace
comfort
when hope
seems vacant
an empty space
hollow
cold
yet safe
in moments like those
is when
i
hope
you
know
there’s always the promise of a less harsh tomorrow …
walking through the crowd …
alone
not lonely
traversing oceans
skipping mountains
tugged by beckoning smiles
absorbed along
endless miles
seeking strands of hope
loosely strung
untying the noose
where desolation once hung
while
scribbling verses unfathomably obtuse
discarding meter and rhyme
frantically
chasing ever-fleeing time
knowing
my moulting skin
is all that i have to lose
while still
walking through the crowd
alone
not lonely
an outsider
always
seeking peace
within
ever hopeful
of gentler days
when
healing may begin
soothing the soul
casting off leaden weight
of so much that has in tne past,
past
flickering moonbeams …
on ancient shores
retracing steps
wet sand beneath bare feet
sipping kisses
hungry
sweet.
in distant streams
soul heart body mind
bathed as one
in sundrenched streams
flowing
ebbing
teasing
tugging
tasting
lapping
meandering
breathing caresses
wildly flickering
like
giddy moonbeams
on the cool wet sands
of
our beach of dreams
The African Rains …
Soaking,
the rains settle,
meandering over jagged faultlines of our memory.
Drenching,
the rains settle,
streaming through veins,
the thud-thudding of the heartbeat of Africa.
Absorbing,
the rains that settle,
within each of us,
herald rebirth.
And,
if you listen,
if you strain to hear,
while shedding the raucous noise of your inner turmoil.
If you listen,
the whispers of the ancestors,
speak to us all,
lending us warmth,
urging us to stand,
even though we may
stumble,
even though we may fall.
a shared mosaic.
threads
intertwined
bind
him
her
you
&
i
together.
earthy
shades
colours
hues
fuse
him
her
you
&
i
together.
one mosaic
one world
one race
human …
him
her
you
&
i
together …
embers
sear
our open sky
rippling strings
bound together
like
falling stars
strumming
murmured melodies
emblazoned across shared tapestries
alive with colours
earthy
and
green
softening the stings
of all that was
all that is
all that has been
the duality of time …
time
erodes
loves lives hearts
souls spirits selves …
time
mends
wounds
souls
a salve
a balm
knowing
in the end
there is always
only
stillness
silence
peace
calm
that gentler way …
sometimes in dreams
this world feels a much gentler place
where hunger stalks nights and days no more
where we share this earths gifts
more equally
less greedually
a gentler place
where we’ve bade farewell to war …
sometimes in dreams
i taste the hope
of a gentler world
where songs of joy may be heard each day
a gentler world
where we all
all of us
together
as one
always
always
always
strive to find
that gentler way …
( inspired by Pete Seeger’s “Last Night I had the Strangest Dream” )
http://stopwar.org.uk/music/pete-seeger-last-night-i-had-the-strangest-dream
the air and the flute …
as air caresses the flute
unseen
leaving not a trace
of itself
gently melodious notes
echo invisibly
fused
by passionate breath mingling with air
unseen
Vincent & Ludwig #7
“i often write to Theo, my heart dripping bloodied ink on paper, burning up the parchment. Theo is my brother, dear Ludwig, who often sends me money, to get by” said Vincent.
“i understand, Vincent, life has dealt me similar circumstances, a jangle of cacophonous silence instead of the song of even the solitary bird” Ludwig breathes.
“i sketch my own pain”
“and i compose mine”
Words
tears trickle down
the
bruised cheeks of time
eroding splinters
smothering words
churned out without reason of rhyme
just words
words
now impotent
simple sentences
blurred by tears
though never
ever
blurred by fears!
oh yes!
words defy fear
words repel hate
words are alive
may they thrive
as we strive
for a more just world
with less tears
less fears
destiny
fate
somewhere
someplace
alfoat on honeydew petals
mere strands
filaments
years trickling through
fingertips
lost whispers
dreamed caresses
awake
alive …
smouldering
ablaze in the cauldron
of
destiny
fate
of convergent wisps
sprinkling kisses
on your
honeydew lips
for rust & marty
you see there may come a time when all of what we yearn and ache and pine and lie and cheat and kill and maim and hurt to attain may turn out to be as worthless as the lives we hurt and took and raped and pillaged and tortured and slapped and abused and molested and plundered and then we shall be seen for that what we all essentially are: scented meat
on flimsy whims,
under tepid prodding,
the heart bleeds,
its blood-like tears
dripping,
soaked up by the waiting earth
may I never bow,
kowtow,
do the jig that’s expected of me,
a wind-up toy,
the good native who knows just how to act, talk,
how to be
effortlessly soaring into abandoned flight,
yesterdays’ pain surrenders,,
drawn gently by,
departing moments’ caressing ebb and dreamy flow,
seeking only sanctuary,
to finally rest,
where wild grasses grow …