Faster

•February 18, 2012 • 3 Comments

opal calm, cerulean wrap
a wave to the shore, arms by my side
obliged to feel my move, I stand still

This place quickens me,
peruses my placement; marches on regardless
a constant in flux

time tondi, attempts to straighten me out
torpid fall, a moment held to breathe inside
days were longer in the past

faster, each all and everything
erudite contemplation – I can’t think fast enough
a rebel without a pause am I

touched my time, birthed as it wakes
rufous origin, diaphanous mirror
contradiction as a witness

my persistent count, outnumbered
interpolated memories
fractal

this moon was here before me
lingers longer in parade of sky
creased emotions along the line

faster, the measure seems unequal
glass or passage, ushering out the pause
deliberate

Pupil

•January 25, 2012 • 8 Comments

Light drops, a swirl of grace.

Fingers on buttons.

The frosted glass of intent, it shivers colours in my ache.

Not seen or heard, the time I hold.

Beautiful transcendence – moth or butterfly.

Each time I think it resonates, each moment a passing past.

The wind protests a desire to be heard.

I listen.

And yet there is solitude in this crowded mind.

A lone thought, bubbling to the surface.

Perhaps time is the measure after all.

 

Sometimes

•January 15, 2012 • 4 Comments

The glass spills, refraction into the lens of my eye

Distortion / fractured intent – perhaps.

Do you want me here? Each question demands an answer.

Sometimes I want to run, stay perfectly still, in that disparate expression.

I can’t get your voice out of my head, echoes resound – on and on until I fall asleep in the porch.

This quiet solitude is draining, deep inside me / a spider makes a home – weaves disconnection.

So I fall apart at the weekend, disseminate thought and feeling in release.

Sometimes I close the door and lock the key inside the lock.

Eyes are tighter, focus the frame.

Curious of my resolve, instinct does not explain.

Lunar accompaniment drowns out the white noise.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to think of nothing at all / just for a moment.

The sky is weighed down, wants to rise.

Sometimes I think I feel like the sky.

Sometimes I believe the sky feels like me.

Sometimes I think I believe.

 

Insight / Full (Saturday Silliness)

•January 14, 2012 • 2 Comments

My gaze wanders across the page, traces patterns in semantic glee.
Interprets choice to meaning whole, parades the question – retrospectively.

Whispers travel in the dark, shade and shadow support their form.
Words that trample down the spark, and douse the flame if such was born.

So day begins with insight full – this mind though vast can sometimes be.
Overwhelmed in thought and seeks that such, which constitutes serenity.

Enigmatic

•January 11, 2012 • 1 Comment

This envelope – envelops, contains a choice.
A reason to explore the hue.
Manila fragranced with insight, soft folds crease the plain.

The conundrum of simplicity is the vice.
Consequence echoed in the hold.
What cause is sought to be the such.
A dim whisper untold.

I am / I am – as Plath would say, a murmur of the two.
Under the watchful eye of night I contemplate the view.
Self sinks to skin – thought to burst and drift gently up.

A place to be and to fathom such.
Pale blue to indigo takes.

The Point

•January 10, 2012 • 1 Comment

What where is which?
Diluting now.
The cast of such in coloured light, my truth parades a humble coat.
Time turns the mix uneasy.

The lunar call repeats low, shadow filled intent with self.
The nocturnal bloom in western sky of shapes seen throughout.
My love a light – beacon shone inward to out the depth.

Still words remain, loyal tomes and empty pages.
Pale opal page my mantra sought to stem the tide alone.
A boy decides and contemplates – conflict, truth and all. Under oak imagined firm.

The flicker scent of you remains – the shadow on the wall.
Captured still to hold, the thought does tumult so.
The tangle, the grass with sky – spread underneath my foot. Above in gaze no strife to be.

So time talks to me alone, but solitude wanders away.
An appointment to keep with itself.
In subtle verge, soft adorned – I ponder -
The point.

Equipoise

•October 23, 2011 • 6 Comments

Light casts shadow, or does shadow perpetuate light.
Beholder – harsh scrutiny, contentment envisaged.
The discourse of love, our monograph. Pristine serenity.
Silence, the echo of calm – dialogues with the deaf.

The ablution of tears, each caught in my palm, distilled in moments.
The process of experience, I love you as I live.
Opulence, your mind – repository of wonder.
Decorum, your soul – vestibule of majesty.
Quintessential – your entity – receptacle of evolution.

Distance fades, connection grows.
You are symmetry, fractal fascination, imagination and utopian.
You are atmosphere, that which encompasses.
Our gaze falls in parallel, hands held in the absence of touch, love bridging the gap.
We belong.
Sky stare, as rain falls, conflict descends, disrupting the still.
At night the ache swells, fortitude in an unquiet mind.
Necessity the mother of invention? Creativity is an orphan.

You envelop me, duvet like, the me in me.
Osmosis, love in transit.
Perpendicular resistance, defiant of their whims.
Truth known, reasoned, understood. Joy. Shared.
Forever waiting a shadow, we burn the darkness all away.
Tenebrous, the core of others. Scintillating our nucleus.

What powers time? A battery – our energy, existence a witness.
The brightest star anaemic in your presence.
Social constructivism, interpret as you will.
The inverted arrow of tolerance.

Yet the girl, always the girl. Beacon, love birthed.
Winged, pinnacle of celestial hierarchy – ascended wonder.
Fuzzy warmth, time as time should be.
Who loves? Those that fall and I plummet into you.
Smiles, laughter, intellectual intercourse, fragility of touch, whispers, sighs, the comfort of eyes.
Hair unravels, as does convention, a dilation of receptive tendency.
Armaments. A poet with pen, a samurai with blade, a boy with love.

 
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