A coffee over the buzzing watches
Did once urge me feelings of grace.
Then they ticked and tocked away;
And was dumped down with all the
Documents and filed signatures in
Unnoticable pile.
Only sundials non-stop on a frozen
Lake, and I internally ache.
Maybe twas a neuronal longing
For un single pause -
Then watch the unmoving objects on the ice,
And with scrutiny, the glint of one smiling
Droplet…and the next… until a smooth and
Tranquil blanket encompasses you,
Then resume.
Aug 16, 2024
Aug 16, 2024 at 5:56 AM UTC
Bricks under our soles, and
The fluttering of mushed sounds
Paddle inside mine ear.
A portion resembles a desperate race -
Another scoop conveys an andante walk -
And a fierce heap of…
Stiff and hollow steps—
Ring in a shallow manner—
Down through the dim alleyway—
Methinks, they are all going in some sort of
Clear or foggy direction,
Where some signs are faded from the sunlight,
And some signs are scratched away at by the
Huffing—and—puffing of the decades.
Jul 8, 2024
Jul 8, 2024 at 12:36 AM UTC
thank and you?
achoo! and there goes that ‘h’
off with the head!
now we only have tanks and tank
like boom ! oh yes, that’s our explosive
gratitude right there -
i’m just playing with words! and to you,
i tank you with an achoo!
guess where that ‘h’ went!
lookin’ under piles of storms and clouds -
no, no, it’s right over here -
look, look, and
get you sore(d) ready for that boom of
an ache!
Jul 1, 2024
Jul 1, 2024 at 3:56 AM UTC
One shooting star -
And it’s family
And the place it is nearing -
For a delightful
Afternoon tea.
Then went -
A couple for an evening run -
As found a new
Lake-side course not too far
From home.
Jun 17, 2024
Jun 17, 2024 at 7:13 AM UTC
One step outside, will it make
A difference? If so,
How much would it so?
Maybe you will take two steps
Out on to the cement,
And feel what?
Perhaps a bit of wind, or
A breeze as they call it;
Perhaps a tint of winter glow
Such dull but glimmering
Memory of last hail;
Perhaps nothing but a pull
From deep down bubbling core;
Jun 14, 2024
Jun 14, 2024 at 5:18 AM UTC
Behind these doors and below
The grand stage lights,
The music spills over the seats
Like moss green and grey;
A sense of scalpel and pin
Crouches down and crawls;
Silence within.
Tapping of the foots -
Envy of oozing as if tree-roots.
Raindrops except the rain;
Audience except individuals.
Jun 2, 2024
Jun 2, 2024 at 12:38 AM UTC
Circular and square. And a little glimmer
Of peace -
Or agony.
Cool beneath the waters. A small touch
Of green -
Or sunny coral.
Clanking in mine ears -
But beauty in these eyes -
Through cornea and through
…Retina.
A painfully perfect tube is drilled - the long days
Pierced as if a sharp stare of a swordfish
Glare.
And a breath-taking fibre passes through the
Scar…and the blood covered by a glistening
Price sign.
May 30, 2024
May 30, 2024 at 7:26 AM UTC
When might it have started? When did this whole thing start?
‘Beginning’ is too hard a concept, it is too natural a word,
It is too common a daily lifestyle that too many cross over it like
Butterflies in the midst of summer, like little waves in a pond of
Lily leaves.
Do you know how a leaf falls for Winter? Do you know something
Just similar to abscission in plants? Do you know how the clouds
Say ‘Hi’ to their neighbours?
Right now, the leaves are not fallen. The wind blows. And the leaf
Shakes. The leaf is tense. The leaf cannot see. It is a bit chilly.
So I would like to open what is a heart and what is an eye. Have
A light radiate through a slit, and warm the room and chambers
Inside.
May 30, 2024
May 30, 2024 at 6:59 AM UTC
Ideality; the quality of being ideal.
That’s what I mean when I say ‘My heart
Resonates with gentle colours of feathers while
My eye is cautious of twigs with thorns and twigs
With small glints of flames on the tips of their fingers.
Once or twice, I step and skip on stepping stones
And thrice or quartz, the rocks swim gently in my ears.
Three times at night, they whisper, “Are you living up to the
Ideal?”, and twice every Autumn chair, they sleep and
Diffuse their tiny scents and speckles of crumbs
Outside my bedroom, and outside the red front door.’
May 30, 2024
May 30, 2024 at 6:58 AM UTC
Did you know?
Secrets are like the baby grass on the patch of
Grass next door; they flutter like the wings in the
Small breeze of late Autumn.
They glitter like the sand on the beach under the
Aurora last night; and they sleep like fairies under
Small mushrooms in the hidden forest.
If only you knew…
How many secret bookmarks were filed in my book,
And how many degraded, teared apart and
Fluttered away in the wind.
May 13, 2024
May 13, 2024 at 7:39 PM UTC