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 Jul 2021 Rainswood
The Wonderess
Who is this familiar stranger
Staring back at me in the
Cracked mirror?

I swear I’ve know her my whole life
Yet, I cannot seem to recognise
The person behind those
Dull blue eyes …

Where did she go?
Will I ever know?
I hope she won’t be lost for long
I’m not sure how much longer
I’ll be able to hold on…
The descending sun turning sky and clouds
to yellow gold, evening shades pulling the
reflected glow into the sea, behind the hills.
Low amber light spilling across the valley floor
casts muted textured shadows, the loveliest light
of the day.

Doves still calling to one another, perhaps
discussing where to bed down for the night.
Peaceful voices of reassurance and calm that
always makes me smile.

In an hour, darkness will intercede, the clear
heavens will radiate and sparkle, stars much
brighter with but a diminished crescent moon
for competitions light.

In the coming darkness the night music of
crickets and frogs will begin to serenade,
and as I recline in my comfy porch chair this
seductive creature orchestration, may induce
early slumber in me, so difficult to evade.

But then what better way to end a nearly
perfect day?
Today I turned 76 years old, a bit of a surprise even
to me. Spent the day with my family, watched my
youngest grandson play in a school Baseball game.
Enjoyed a fine family dinner, cake for dessert.
Watered my garden and played fetch with my dog.
Now as I sit and observe in repose this descending
night gift of nature, I am a truly contented man.
(Written on the 15th of May, not posted until today.)
 Jul 2021 Rainswood
Graff1980
Don’t get caught in her eyes
cause that is where
her mysteries lie,
where the tiger hides
are waiting to pounce,
and devour every ounce
of the essence you have,
to satisfy the beast that resides
in her ever-enduring hunger.

You are a not a partner
just a hundred shades
of pretty little prey
that she craves,
and you will easily cave
to the charade that she parades,
to the play which she plays,
because you are desperate
in the perfect way
for her cruel love game.
in the rain-
darkness,     the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you

the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles

your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss

and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then

your dancesong
soul.     rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered,and i

think
       of you
 Dec 2017 Rainswood
KJ
Suddenly
So randomly
Everything becomes too much

Too bright
Too loud
Too full
Too
Much

Suddenly
So randomly
The lights coat my eyes

They're shinning down
Into my eyes
Blinding me
Flooding my senses
Assaulting me
I cannot see

Suddenly
So randomly
I cannot breathe

There is no air left for me
I'm choking
Little huffs of breath
Escape past my quivering lips
It feels like nothing is coming
In or out

Suddenly
So randomly
I can hear everything

My mind will not shut off
The noises feel as if
A loud speaker
Is blaring directly into my ears
I cannot turn it off

Suddenly
So randomly
The room is so full

Everyone is surrounding me
They haven't moved,
Yet they are all around
I cannot escape

Suddenly
So randomly
My heart feels as if it will burst

The pounding of my heart
Echoes in my head
Jumping against my chest
Threatening to break free

I am assaulted by my own senses
I cannot turn them off
They're there
All at once

Too much
Too much
Too much
 Dec 2017 Rainswood
verwandlung
lives in my gut,
but still I feel empty.

It's legs tangled
up inside me,
twisting my organs.

Its suckers squeeze
warmth out of me,
leaving me cold and numb.

Entwined inside,
suffocating
me as I try to breathe.
 Dec 2017 Rainswood
Graff1980
There is paper
in the fire,
white sheets
bloated with
ink blot thoughts.
Some are dismissed
while others are lost.
Scattered ashes
spread beyond
the blinking
blank canvass
of human consciousness.

Partial photographic evidence
charred and cracked
kills her once
serene complexion.
Red hair
turns to
orange flares
that only leave
more ash there.

A crumpled notebook
of diary sheets
scream its loss
out to me
in silent pleas.
Till it pops,
crackling
like dry leaves burning.

Outside this
field of fiery grief
there is a
cool bluish black night
beckoning me
into its amnesiatic relief.
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