The breath of today

picture credit: http://proama.deviantart.com/art/Feel-the-Breath-137192613

When clouds touch the ground

memories seep in

your soul, from above and below.

Some tears may crest

whilst others show

the freshness of breath that is now.

Cotton Wool Clouds

picture credit: http://macsimc.deviantart.com/art/tranquility-60996610

 I want to drift on these cotton wool clouds

on a bed that is white, in a wind that is warm,

to stare into space while my senses reign

in a realm that is far beyond.

...where witches dance dances of daring enchantment

and elves are entrenched with their eyes,

captured in chosen surrender that burns

in their soul as they take in the night.

Before their eyes dreams they have dreamt appear

in the whiff of a scattering cloud,

pixies stream gaily through crystal clear air

bringing fairy dust raining down.

It’s here that you yield to the subtle display

of expansion emitted to you,

and fly on the currents of angel's wings

as peace fin’ly flows through you.

...of blankets and books and cinnamon treats

picture credit: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs23/i/2009/037/8/0/magical_by_BloodyCoon.jpg

This thunder evokes a sweet memory

of blankets and books and cinnamon treats,

as cascading giggles of utter delight,

took us to castles we built with our sight…

It’s here fairy princesses lived in rich gold,

and rose gardens wrapped us into their rose fold,

of visions that only us children could see

‘cause grown-ups had polished off all that lush sheen.

I’m now an old child, I believe the tall tales,

written by masters whose touch still prevails

in the dark chambers of this dusty mind,

who chooses to delve into thoughts unconfined…

Bare your Soul

picture credit: http://hypnotises.deviantart.com/art/Silenzio-96715259

Your tears fall like the ceaseless drizzle

teeming down outside,

and rolling across the heavens

the thunder bears your dissent.

A lightning bolt of reason

brings silence to the deluge,

and the weight starts to lift

as the lingering mist fades away...

In the Urban Desert

picture credit: http://gilad.deviantart.com/art/In-The-Urban-Desert-67759599

How can anyone be empty in a spot so filled with people?

How can anyone not see me in this place with million eyes?

Have the gods me now deserted in a broadcast of white noise,

have they taken all the air, as my footstep slowly dies?

…… I halt before the emptiness as distance leaves despair,
cold the grip I feel inside, of nothing I’m aware,
I’m but another hollow sound that’s trudging down the road,
disinterest echoes all around as hopelessness enshrouds.

On the Eve of the New Moon

picture credit: http://devilshark.deviantart.com/art/Don-t-Slip-Away-98466813

  

My soul is caught in yesterday’s dream

on the eve of the breaking new moon.

I sit in the park once lush with lawns,

now dried up and dusty with weeds and thorns,

and wonder what’s happened to the petals strewn,

when their sight, once loved, turns to scorn.

55 - The Lazy River

picture credit: http://supergrass.deviantart.com/art/toUch-43590980

Delight runs like a lazy river through the landscapes of my mind,

drenching my thoughts in a syrup so sweet,

as your touch induces bliss and your hands lead me to a trail of light,

sparkling like diamonds in the warm golden sands of my heightened senses

as only you can evoke them in me…

Reflections

picture credit: http://hypnotises.deviantart.com/art/SECRET-II-83979563

It was a day like any other, but it was the day that she chose,

to lift the anchors in her life without ties.

The St. Christopher glinted around her neck, reflecting a light,

hers to own, if she chose to look through windows

untouched by layers of grime.

With a passion she delved into cupboards and trunks

overflowing with mementos that brought both pleasure and pain.

At first hesitantly, then recklessly, she tossed out papers, crumpled with age,

faded images of faces bleached by years in the sun.

At times she felt a stab of pain, just like the hope that was crushed

as those dreams disintegrated,

while others she recognised as the stop at the door

that prevented it from closing all these years.

Tears flowed freely as she threw them all away,

yet the tears were those of relief.

For finally she had space, space for new things,

as the final goodbyes were said,

granting her the freedom from the bounds that have halted

her passage forward in life …

Realm of Regret

Picture credit: http://norne-nornir.deviantart.com/art/Giger-s-Realm-44646205

Empty tears flow into the black river of hopelessness

that winds through a frozen land of smoking ice.

Unblinking eyes greet a future unimaginable,

where redemption’s unattainable

by a self-imposed ban of absolution,

in the lost and forgotten realm of regret.

Hallucinations of a hollow mind

picture credit; http://libellula.deviantart.com/art/Hollow-Nightmare-39593632

Nerves rustle through the mind like rats through the undergrowth

of insanity, desperate to claw their way into the chambers of logic,

to find a foothold on the fragile rungs of newly captured knowledge,

while patiently waiting for their weight to snap the thread of reason

that holds the hallucinations of a hollow mind at bay…

Through the Rabbit Hole

picture credit: http://hypnotises.deviantart.com/art/What-your-LOVE-means-84714735

I’ll gladly follow the bouncing white rabbit

through hedges grown high

and openings grown closed,

deep, deep, deeper into the maze

to where the sunlight turns a misty grey

and the moonlight paints me into a luminous puppet,

controlled by fantasy and sheer indulgence.

An impish reflection dances through ferns,

splashes through cola brooks

and dances with kangaroos

through the scent of sweet  blossoms

that open the door to wonder,

transforming the chaos of a rambling mind

into a playground carousel of magical sounds

and lights…

free from restriction, free from restraint,

free from our neighbours bounds;

and delight instead in the tea of laughter

with the joker, our host for the night…

Tortured Dreams

picture credit: http://pociej.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Clouds-281272199

And the darkness stead’ly marches through the distance, coming near,

bringing in its claws the madness of the despot who craves fear,

one who feeds on blood-red tears shed by cowering broken men,

broken by the bonds of heartache so entrenched they cannot fend

off the nightmares of the days long gone, playing in their mind,

seeking dogged retribution from a fiend they cannot find,

for the darkness takes their man, without question, without thought

to the one who’s left abandoned, tortured dreams their new cohort.

Visions of the Past

picture credit: http://hypnotises.deviantart.com/art/Reflection-of-a-conscience-86812609

  

Even when the world’s imploding

and all avenues seems blocked,

when each friendly hand seems tainted

by the knowledge that is locked,

in instinctive base reactions

programmed in your darker days,

that you need to stop and wonder

if you see true through this haze;

that may mask the real depiction

of that which is ‘fore your eyes,

can you benefit the sinner,

cut the truth from latent lies?

55 - Forever you

picture credit: http://fibulamim.deviantart.com/art/goodbye-63855036

I wish I could, for one last time,

hold you near and hear the rhyme

your breath of love leaves on my skin,

and feel the trust you have within,

for me to be the one you chose

to spend your time with, ‘til it slows,

I whisper my devotion true,

‘Today, tomorrow, forever, you.’

Dark is the Night

picture credit: http://osnafotos.deviantart.com/art/sadly-91017926

You came to me in my dreams last night,

you sat on my lap and you closed your eyes,

it was 3.33 when with tears I awoke,

no night is as dark ’s when the heart is broke.

A Piece of my Heart

We have a little Levi, a 6-year old African Grey Parrot, who, against all odds (for what do you know, I didn't believe myself to be a bird-person) has crept real deep into my heart.  Levi has now been sick for 7 weeks, and between building stress at home and this very nasty virus, he has not been getting better.  He's gone to hospital today, to stay for a few days, to be fed as he's so dehydrated and weak, and hopefully turn this whole thing around... Please keep him in your thoughts... this hurts...

It is in the gusting breeze

under dust-filled hazy skies,

in the fever pitch of chaos

that all sanity defies,

that a menacing cold darkness

a long shadow now imparts,

bringing home the fear of losing

a piece of this breaking heart.

It’s the hounds of hell that wrote,

down my spine in blood that’s red,

with their nails a word of warning

as towards me they have sped...

Now I pray my tears of love

wash away their cold intent,

'cause I can't release this piece,

that the Gods to me have lent.

The Sins of our Fathers

picture credit: http://derekemmons.deviantart.com/art/Sins-of-our-Fathers-104423229

From the day we are born

our innocence’s replaced,

by the sins of our fathers,

which we lived and retraced,

on a path of learned experience

we accepted as the norm,

as we’re moulded none too gently,

without realizing the harm.

And we touch each other daily

with the wounds that deeply bleed,

sometimes hear a warning echo,

yet continue without heed,

in the perfect life we've woven

with the thread of deep denial,

all the time the heap gets bigger,

as the guilt we now stockpile.

Yet the circle needn't close,

you can write an ending new,

treat the demons to a gathering

with the truth to them undo,

lest you wonder in the dark hours

of a moonless night alone,

why the children joined the circle,

for the sins that we now own.

In the arms of a Willow Tree

picture credit: http://cedeimante.deviantart.com/art/--329959680

Last night I was summoned by the waving arms of the willow tree,

the one that stands at the rivers edge, bathed in the setting sun.

It was their branches that reached out, swirling through the star-drenched waters

to murmuring angels, before opening the door to a realm far beyond.

My bare feet walked the dewy paths of moss the brightest green,

butterfly wings brushed against my cheeks and the breeze swirled through the air

in colourful tails. And that is how I became that carefree child,

filled with curious and exciting ways.  Or was it the air, sweetened with nectar,

or the dusting of silver on my naked skin in the moonlight

that opened the gateway to a freedom few experience,

to a realization only some acknowledge,

that the passing of days is indeed a liberation

of the senses that know more than the mind.

The Ride

picture credit:  http://54ka.deviantart.com/art/Fear-8094691

It’s in the moment I decided to follow

in the footstep of the black cat

as it crossed my path this morning,

that I knew I had no choice

but to wait for the red-eyed white owl

and fly through the fields of reckless destruction,

where consequences are sneered at and smothered

with the impulse of the possessed,

and I continue to feed the hunger
where thoughts without cost,

and deeds without innocence,

are loved, loathed, executed and eradicated.

You want to join the ride?

Memories

picture credit:  http://vickie666.deviantart.com/art/Memories-328889409

In the early morning hours

when tears begin to fall,

reach to me and hold on tight

to the memories you have stored,

where the pictures of sunshine,

smiles and love have made their home,

where the dawn was greeted too

with a smile for each their own,

and the glory of the coming day

you were itching to grab hold,

conquer all you touch, you can,

your strides were long and bold.

Forget the heavy clouds outside,

ignore what you became,

that girl’s still there with you right now,

come back and live again.

I wish...

picture credit: http://adoniswerther.deviantart.com/art/White-Desert-49847939

I wish I could glide

on the wings of the wind,

let the raindrops in the clouds

cleanse my soul there where I’ve sinned,

swim with dolphins through the waves

with a limitless delight,

come to rest on desert sands,

powd’ry soft and snowy white,

before watching as the sky

turns into the deepest blue,

then I’ll close my eyes and dream,

dream sweet dreams of me and you.

Listen to my story

picture credit: http://nile-can-too.deviantart.com/art/Listen-to-my-story-328168450

Come, come here, come sit here with me

on the cold and moist ev’ning sand,

I need you here just to listen to me,

to that what I have to say…

...and I need to know that I’m not alone,

in the end that it’ll be okay,

so put your arms ‘round me

to show that you care,

that these dragons together we’ll slay.

Weeping Wishes

picture credit:  http://natsuki-3.deviantart.com/art/The-Truth-53893284 

In the darkness of the dawn

man-made promises deflate,

into wisps of weeping wishes

that defeat you and negate,

as you hover on the brink

of a helplessness severe,

with the first rays of the sun,

let the truth release your fear.

The Fate of the Dreamer

picture credit: http://fashioneyes.deviantart.com/art/Moonlit-Boulevard-265064317

I find my way through moonlight

through the twinkling midnight stars,

to the big-eyed girl that’s listening

in her mind to blues guitars,

while she drifts into a waking

dreamland that is hers alone,

where she dreams past what is real,

that which she has now outgrown.

And this dreamer flits through mazes,

follows instinct, has no doubt,

as she tweaks dirt into beauty

with an ease in time lights-out,

‘till the threat of nearing dawn

lasso’s in this spirit free,

and with misery she descends,

for the dawn weighs heavily.

The Laughing Seagulls

picture credit: http://sassaputzin.deviantart.com/art/tide-and-time-172902874

There’s a place where seagulls laugh,

nestled in the arms of a valley of pine trees

that whisper in the salty breeze, where on cloudy days

the tops of these trees are decked in a fluffy white coat

while a thin veil drapes over the valley.

At the back of this place, pine trees hug a little piece of lawn

that invites you to lie on it on warm summer nights.

And this I do under grinning stars, listening to the waves

tell tall tales of sunken ships, and sometimes I even hear a mermaid sing

of far-off homelands and long lost love.

The inside is warm.  Polished wood and Persian carpets

surround a fireplace. On cold winter nights the fire roars

and the waft of burnt sugar drifts through the air

while Mick Jagger once again assures me

that ‘old habits die hard’.

But the attic is a special place... a wall of glass that

frames the ocean. A comfortable couch, a laptop, books and pictures,

and it’s here that I'm drawn to, where the mind and the words are free,

and thoughts dance like specks of light on the wall,

while all the time, the seagulls laugh at me...

There is a time...

picture credit:  http://nighty.deviantart.com/art/The-Dance-34020852

Yeah, so there are things you’re good at

and things you love to do.

Maybe you’re good at it because you love it,

or is it the other way round, I wonder,

but I digress…

Life, however, has this annoying little habit

of interfering with our ability to do them.

Time seems elusive,

disappearing like a leaf in the gusty autumn wind,

gone without a trace in an instant.

Or is it the energy levels that dip

as you get lost wandering through the empty rooms at home,

staring out of windows, all the while waiting,

praying, for that voice in your head to come up with

a million and 1 other things that need doing.

Need? Really?

Do you really need to snip those flowers? Dust those annoying ornaments?

Fill every waking moment with an activity recognized by the world at large

as something considered to be constructive?

Or should you rather just sit down, stretch out your legs

in the warm afternoon sun, in that quiet corner specifically designed

to relax in and read a book, but never have,

or maybe daydream,

daydream until the sun is but a faint memory,

in a time where the owls swoop soundlessly through the air,

where even the wind has blown itself to sleep

and your mind is refreshed and relaxed

enough to see past the obstacles created by the chaos of everyday.

‘Cause when you can reach that place,

everything is possible,

dreams are real,

and choosing to act is the only, possible answer,

even fear doesn’t feel so bad at all,

in fact, it doesn’t scare anymore,

but fills you with courage and excitement instead,

and you stand up from this daydream

to do, to live, to just experience that which you love,

which you’re good at,

and smile…

because time, too, denies every thief its victory,

and under the light of the passing moon

your dreams become real once more.

Adrift

picture credit:  http://psivamp.deviantart.com/art/Float-On-45845892 

With a murmuring breath, the edge becomes smooth,

the ledge not as high, much wider than you thought,

your feet become still, your trembling hands rest,

your eyes see new things that have been there before.

Your mind starts to drift on a raft in a sea,

smooth as those edges, a sigh of release…

The place in my mind

picture credit: http://furiousxr.deviantart.com/art/Overcast-Perth-83938729

There’s a place in my mind

with silvery skies,

where pine trees whisper

with the breath of the breeze,

that brings ‘bout a stillness

to the infinite noise

that’s ruling, that I can’t control.

And it’s here I retreat,

where I shut out the noise,

ere the darkness too deep,

creeps too far in my soul,

and smothers my breath,

to the poison that swells

to a plane of hopeless despair.

5.15

picture credit:  http://brokenchar.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4ohggf  

5.15, an early dusk settles on this day

and a veil of silence descends like a comforting mist

that feeds the stillness, desperate to emerge

from the depth of your being,

warm as a lovers arms,

consoling and soothing away the strain

that has bound you, confined you

and curbed the vision

of inspiration

for too long now...

Lost

Picture credit:
http://browse.deviantart.com/?q=cold%20air&order=9&offset=48#/d2fhvbb

 

Lost. The joy...

...left a chill in that damp alleyway;

a flood of cold air through your soul.

 

The beauty of the night

picture credit: gavin dowd 

Wrapped in ice like frozen wishes,

dormant in the blinding  white,

‘round the limbs of waiting jounces,

spring is striving to ignite.

...yet grey the cloud and moist the air,

with sullen mood that broods despair,

‘joy the beauty of this night

ere starry skies your soul delight.