A question that is hard to answer
he fumbles with his pipe
taking a long while
to fill and light
time to think
a silence he does not want broken
a record played
softly
but present
stopping conversation
a person he does not like
his silence
leaving me to fill
knowing with others
he has so much to say
time spent together
learning
perceptive
each leaving signs
the other learns
and in their generosity
uses
supporting
complimenting
giving
a gift
time spent wisely
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:40 PM UTC
As I sit in my old overstuffed armchair
and watch the fire
flames rising
glowing
sparks flying
throughout the room
around me
enclosing me in a circle of diamonds
light shining off them
as if they were fairies
knowing I was in need
of encouragement
feeling my problem
despair
and lifting me on their flight
carrying me to more exultant plains
protecting me
talking to me
giving me their strength
before returning to the fire
wings beating
flames moving
and I realise why
flames dance and sway
and are never still
it is the magic of the fairies
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:39 PM UTC
Clouds passing overhead
shapes moving
story of a life
I lie and watch
floating by
where white and blue encounter
past mingling with future
woven
in a present
of golden threads
where waves mist
showers of sparkling diamonds
restful
speaking
perceptions of a melody
a foundation on which to laze
pervades my beliefs
as I watch a blossoming haze
move across the horizon
diminishing into remoteness
and vanishing into tomorrow
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC
An invitation
to observe a spectacle of dishes
laid out with care
each too beautiful to destroy
and yet the desire to taste too strong
to meet new friends
conversation on any subject
but no emotions allowed
all sentiment to be left with your coat
and collected on leaving
a glass of port
an exchange of ideas
feelings evaporating with perfume of cigars
paintings analysed
books discussed
poems recited
and jokes laughed at
no people present
privacy to be respected at all costs
going home to a feeling of emptiness
something missing
permission to reach out and touch
to know
and to be known
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
Enveloped in the leather fireside chair
perfumed by burning pine logs
their hiss and rustle a haunting melody
I talk to you
in silence
words
lit by the glow of flames
swaying in the rhythm of thoughts
questions asked
the future ahead
and present
at each of your words
the flame of the candle
moves
forming shapes
creating shadows
explanations of expressions
answers given
but when I leave behind
the oak desk
and book lined walls
I am alone once more
the only question unanswered
is why only there
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:34 PM UTC
In the lamplight
the little girl trudges home
head down
step weary
thoughts heavy
mind on the past
of dreams and hopes
forsaken and realised
thinking how a dream is no longer as good
when it happens
a let down
a prelude of nothingness ahead
and the effort of forging another goal
as having none
is the distant tree with no branches
no balance
nothing for the wind to make music
and once inside the house
in her lonely bedroom
she removes her hat and gloves
putting them carefully away
but leaving her coat on the bed
she looks in the mirror
seeing an elderly lady look back
with a knowing smile
experienced
and worldly
and wonders why she took so long
coming home
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:33 PM UTC
Out of the darkness
the tears came
humbly at first
then with increasing pride
as memories of past justice mounted
times when the jury was a candle
burning bright in the darkness
accused and accusing
having equal time
the candle marked half way down
the defence speaking to that deathly mark
the prosecution the remaining length
unless
the light gave up before the end
in that case
the crime was judged to be true
guilt was apportioned
and I was sent to my death
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:30 PM UTC