EveUnfolding - Hello Poetry

I generally fight silence But there are days when it wins Today I sit quiet and I listen Listen as: air moves leaf against leaf Big leaf, small leaf, in-between leaf Each brush a distinct sound stroke A multi-tonal “Hush!” the flowers of the neighbours’ jacaranda fall Plop, plop, plop onto our Strelizia’s large leaves Boundary-erasing purple rain something scratch-scratches in the undergrowth under my window Has one of the dogs got out? I almost get up Stop listening but no It’s the Hadeda Ibis rooting for the ill-fated worm It’s the rustle of nature communing with nature offering itself consuming itself A fierce, fearless, closed loop of provide and eat eat and provide And my self-protective humanness feels like a frail outsideness a complicated loneliness Perhaps this is why I generally fight silence

0

Oct 23, 2019

Oct 23, 2019 at 10:51 AM UTC

Hush!

I generally fight silence But there are days when it wins Today I sit quiet and I listen Listen as: air moves leaf against leaf Big leaf, small leaf, in-between leaf Each brush a distinct sound stroke A multi-tonal “Hush!” the flowers of the neighbours’ jacaranda fall Plop, plop, plop onto our Strelizia’s large leaves Boundary-erasing purple rain something scratch-scratches in the undergrowth under my window Has one of the dogs got out? I almost get up Stop listening but no It’s the Hadeda Ibis rooting for the ill-fated worm It’s the rustle of nature communing with nature offering itself consuming itself A fierce, fearless, closed loop of provide and eat eat and provide And my self-protective humanness feels like a frail outsideness a complicated loneliness Perhaps this is why I generally fight silence

40

The breath stirs. The blood, that deep, pulsing tide, Accepts its spirit burden - Holds it for but a whisper And then lets it go. The body receives it next - Each cell bearing it only for as long As is needed for transformation: Breath into energy Energy released - Given up to become Motion, emotion, expression. Breath made word made flesh. It is the heart that unites the blood and the body - Every rhythmic beat An accepting and a letting go, That the blood might flow, That the breath might be carried, That the body might dance.

0

Oct 1, 2018

Oct 1, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC

Eucharist

The breath stirs. The blood, that deep, pulsing tide, Accepts its spirit burden - Holds it for but a whisper And then lets it go. The body receives it next - Each cell bearing it only for as long As is needed for transformation: Breath into energy Energy released - Given up to become Motion, emotion, expression. Breath made word made flesh. It is the heart that unites the blood and the body - Every rhythmic beat An accepting and a letting go, That the blood might flow, That the breath might be carried, That the body might dance.

19

I look like my dad. My mom looks like Audrey Hepburn, with a dash of Twiggy thrown in for good measure, but I, I look like my dad. (My dad, for the sake of clarity, looks nothing like Audrey Hepburn or Twiggy. He’s more the George Clooney type - which is a great look for George Clooney and for my dad - but not for a girl who wanted to look like Princess Di, or Cindy Crawford, or Julia Roberts, or Gisele…) A woman now, wiser now, older now, I look in the mirror and know that - all things progressing as they usually do - a time will come when the mirror will be the only place I will see his face. And I hope, when that time comes, I can still remember how to look at myself through those eyes that knew I was beautiful long before I even knew my own name: How to look like my dad.

0

Sep 6, 2017

Sep 6, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC

I Look Like My Dad

I look like my dad. My mom looks like Audrey Hepburn, with a dash of Twiggy thrown in for good measure, but I, I look like my dad. (My dad, for the sake of clarity, looks nothing like Audrey Hepburn or Twiggy. He’s more the George Clooney type - which is a great look for George Clooney and for my dad - but not for a girl who wanted to look like Princess Di, or Cindy Crawford, or Julia Roberts, or Gisele…) A woman now, wiser now, older now, I look in the mirror and know that - all things progressing as they usually do - a time will come when the mirror will be the only place I will see his face. And I hope, when that time comes, I can still remember how to look at myself through those eyes that knew I was beautiful long before I even knew my own name: How to look like my dad.

33

Cold nights earth becomes A cosmic cutlery drawer Lovers neatly packed

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Jul 20, 2017

Jul 20, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC

Spoons

Cold nights earth becomes A cosmic cutlery drawer Lovers neatly packed

3

It's been an age [or is it an eon? or maybe an epoch?] since we were ****** from our Garden - [and why was it called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil anyway? we only ever tasted evil.] so long ago now that it’s crossed the threshold between memory and dream. [was any of it ever real?] There was never any hope of us turning back, because that’s the way time drags us - inexorably forward. [merciless god!] But I have been watching, my love, as we trudge this endless, dry dust: I have watched suns rise, and stars rise, and moons rise, And I have been thinking, my darling - I have been thinking that we must keep walking, Because it seems to me this infinite space Is perhaps a circle, And the further away we wander, The closer to home we come.

0

Jul 19, 2017

Jul 19, 2017 at 1:59 AM UTC

Prodigals

It's been an age [or is it an eon? or maybe an epoch?] since we were ****** from our Garden - [and why was it called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil anyway? we only ever tasted evil.] so long ago now that it’s crossed the threshold between memory and dream. [was any of it ever real?] There was never any hope of us turning back, because that’s the way time drags us - inexorably forward. [merciless god!] But I have been watching, my love, as we trudge this endless, dry dust: I have watched suns rise, and stars rise, and moons rise, And I have been thinking, my darling - I have been thinking that we must keep walking, Because it seems to me this infinite space Is perhaps a circle, And the further away we wander, The closer to home we come.

29

Do you remember? Do you remember, I wonder, What it was like outside? How we’d stand there, Our arms around each other, Our faces pressed against the thick, sound-muffling glass? Peering in with longing, Ears straining to pick up something, anything - Any little clue as to what it was like to be inside. Inside with them - The eating, drinking, laughing ones - The ones bathed in the warm golden light. Outside it was cold. And it could have been lonely, But we had each other - And we huddled together - And we made our own warmth. But now, Golden Girl, You’re inside. You’re theirs. You eat, drink, laugh - You glow. And once in a while you look up. And you wave. It’s wonderful in here, you mouth, See how wonderful it is? See how they love me? How they want me? I do see. And I feel the cold. And the loneliness. And the lack of your arms around me. Colder, Lonelier, I look for different routes to walk. Routes that don’t take me past windows.

0

Jul 18, 2017

Jul 18, 2017 at 3:04 AM UTC

Windows

Do you remember? Do you remember, I wonder, What it was like outside? How we’d stand there, Our arms around each other, Our faces pressed against the thick, sound-muffling glass? Peering in with longing, Ears straining to pick up something, anything - Any little clue as to what it was like to be inside. Inside with them - The eating, drinking, laughing ones - The ones bathed in the warm golden light. Outside it was cold. And it could have been lonely, But we had each other - And we huddled together - And we made our own warmth. But now, Golden Girl, You’re inside. You’re theirs. You eat, drink, laugh - You glow. And once in a while you look up. And you wave. It’s wonderful in here, you mouth, See how wonderful it is? See how they love me? How they want me? I do see. And I feel the cold. And the loneliness. And the lack of your arms around me. Colder, Lonelier, I look for different routes to walk. Routes that don’t take me past windows.

35

The poet is a sangoma throwing bare-bones words that uncover occult universes where they land.

0

Jul 16, 2017

Jul 16, 2017 at 8:42 AM UTC

Divination

The poet is a sangoma throwing bare-bones words that uncover occult universes where they land.

5

Spend your day restraining moth and rust; I'll spend mine subduing child-woes and dust. But tonight, tonight, my darling, let's sneak back into The Garden and try to remember what it is like not to have to hold back anything at all.

0

Jul 15, 2017

Jul 15, 2017 at 9:30 AM UTC

Said Eve to Adam (on a Saturday)

Spend your day restraining moth and rust; I'll spend mine subduing child-woes and dust. But tonight, tonight, my darling, let's sneak back into The Garden and try to remember what it is like not to have to hold back anything at all.

7

If you don’t mind, sir, I think I’ll take your “It’s a fact” And put it over here And then I’ll fetch “No, it isn’t” And put it over here. Let’s wait, shall we, until all the to-ing and fro-ing and up-ing and down-ing is over And everything is quite still? Then, Once the scales have settled, I’ll be able to tell you if I will ever trust a word you say.

0

Jul 15, 2017

Jul 15, 2017 at 4:59 AM UTC

Fake News

If you don’t mind, sir, I think I’ll take your “It’s a fact” And put it over here And then I’ll fetch “No, it isn’t” And put it over here. Let’s wait, shall we, until all the to-ing and fro-ing and up-ing and down-ing is over And everything is quite still? Then, Once the scales have settled, I’ll be able to tell you if I will ever trust a word you say.

13

So. Here I stand, alone, a tall, awkward pole in the vast, echoing desolation that used to be us. And I wonder, Bewildered, what the **** just happened. And the answer rings like a bell - clear in the silence: I was not enough.

0

Jul 15, 2017

Jul 15, 2017 at 3:00 AM UTC

Ghosted

So. Here I stand, alone, a tall, awkward pole in the vast, echoing desolation that used to be us. And I wonder, Bewildered, what the **** just happened. And the answer rings like a bell - clear in the silence: I was not enough.

12