The topography of my mind
Maps the beach at changing tide.

From low to high it's all washed clean
Footprints, castles and trails alike
Unetched slate of flat leveled sand
Grains aligned by blessed wave strike.

From high to low it's all exposed
Fragments, jetsam, seaweed entwined
Littered, scattered on shore amuck
The sting of empty shells combined.

Yes, the topography of my mind
Maps the beach at changing tide
From low to high and high to low
A gloriously exhausting ride.

Laying in the canopy of trees,
Among lush, green branches,
Stretching in quiet addiction.
Offering hundreds of leaves
As an endless sacrifice
Up to the infinite
Ending with a vast void
Full of solace.
Mystery.
Silence.
Finally, the god sighs.
Blinks.
The offering untaken.
The request recycled.
The plea granted.

like a room without
colour or
perspective
no corners
no shades
no beginning
and no end
just random pegs
and light
onto which our threads
can be attached
for a moment
resembling something
contours
of a set
creation

We always search for greener grass
Though yearn for home when found
For even when it comes to pass
One’s feet prefer their own home-ground
Yet even back at home again
We crave for wondrous pastures new
And though we may not so intend
Elysium, we search for you.

©Joe Wilson – Elysium…2015

A poem in the style of the wonderful W B Yeats (1865-1939)
that suggested itself to me after once again reading The Wheel

Let your tears be one with the rain
Let the rain turn them into grain
Cry the last tear today
As from tomorrow girl, you’ll have a better day.

Rain purifies the soil and washes away the dirt
Same way it does to your soul which is used to flirt
With negative feelings you find outside your shell
Feelings that sometimes make your own life a living hell.

But rain is over now, problems are all gone
Your beautiful smile and lovely self are back in one
One simple creature that at times
It’s so versatile it changes with the rhymes.