Sunday, January 30, 2011

The gypsy

How I wish I were a gypsy, travelling through this big old land,
without future to direct me, without past to hold my hand,
free to wander dusty sideways, with the wind as my best friend,
sharing fruits in shady orchards, whilst the stranger's ear I lend.
I'd return the gift of nectar, as I see unspoken dreams
dance behind the shaded eyes, a desire that there gleams,
for a freedom never tasted, for a touch before unfelt,
and bewitched he settles back, for the hand this day had dealt.
He now listens to the words, as they flow forth from my lips,
possibilities arise, as he deviates from scripts
written by the hands of others and from blinkered visions old,
meant to tie him to the known, that would keep him in the mould.
Although brief the hours spent, in my time and in my care,
he discovers magic sights in the softness of my stare,
'ere returning to his life, 'ere I further wander through
dusty sideways in this land, for the next dream to renew.

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Monday, January 24, 2011

The Echo

Catch me in your arms,
I am ready to fall,
to trust in your words,
to heed to your call.
I have reached the end here,
the end of this road,
catch me as I fall,
your voice now, an echo...

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Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The silence of your being

Soft are the murmurs of the night
drifting from the shadows left by the descending sun,
probing your shell, slowly piercing
through the armor you've adeptly erected through the day.
And resistance crumbles as the stars start to sparkle
in the darkening sky that spreads its blanket over your soul,
and you break down and cry for the lost yesterdays,
for the tomorrows that never may be,
as the harsh truth dawns with the rising moon,
leaving you alone, deserted, in a self-created exile,
in the silence of your being,
in the emptiness of your soul.

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Friday, January 7, 2011

It's time to go home...

The road stretches out, endlessly, a golden mile too far,
that the thought of moving forward
is as appealing as yesterday’s feast,
congealed and encrusted in the sink,
the remains now lying rotten at the pit of your stomach
in the breaking dawn.
For your soul is just too scarred
to see the beauty of the mountain range hovering on the horizon,
and the wounds too raw to appreciate
the fresh sea air drifting just past their peak.
And by a force not your own,
you slow down, come to a halt
at the roadside at the edge of tall waving grass.
You open the door,
not bothering to close it behind you,
and start walking into the wilderness.
Slowly, tentatively at first,
then your steps start to quicken.
Faster and faster.
Each stride longer than the last
as you try to outrun
all the thoughts whirling in your head,
to leave behind the memories,
the words that still echo in your ear,
the touch of the hand that's still warm on your back,
and the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks,
as recently as today.
And you come to halt at the furiously flowing river.
You stare at the torrent and the angry rushing water,
and you wonder if you'll take that step,
into the maelstrom of oblivion.
To bring an end to the infinite torture your mind has subjected you to,
induced by the realisation
that that which you’ve lived
was the design of another’s creation,
and you were just along for the ride,
while they operated the controls.
You were but a puppet
at the hands of the master of manipulation and deception,
which you were too naïve,
too gullible,
too trusting
to see.
And the thought of redeeming their soul
and to carry on is just too much to bear,
too much to put behind,
so you take that step into the yielding, ice-cold mud
as the wind tears at your hair
and the skies cry with you
and you wait for the current
to lay claim to your soul,
as you welcome the coming silence.
It’s time to go home…

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Sunday, January 2, 2011

Shimmering warmth

The room is filled with gently flickering candlelight
while entrancing scents waft through the air,
capturing the melodious voices, sparkling with laughter,
enchanted by the music that's caressing their soul.
And its through this haze of shimmering warmth
that I watch you from a distance,
your movements, your lips,
your eyes that dance,
that stir awake a longing,
borne from the touch of long and hot nights
spent at the mercy of your love,
now teasing the edge of my consciousness,
driving a desire to own your flesh once again.
I watch, mesmerized, as your eyes lift, infinitely slow,
before locking my eyes with an intent
running invisible fingers lazily down my spine,
delivering promises, bent of fulfilling,
the need that's written in my eyes...

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