In the seventies
we brought back silks and saris
hot with colours
that shocked the nights
Punjabi embroidery
on cheesecloth kaftans
mirror glittered skirts
that were spun with light
Kashmiri shawls
and Afghani dancing dresses
arms full of bracelets
silver and brass
enameled and etched
and singing with ***
rings of Ivory, sapphire and jet
necklaces of jade and threaded apple seeds
rain forest timber bowls
white marble boxes from Agra
with precious inlay stones
our little Taj Mahals
we wandered the globe
like a magical village
of lovers and
and came back
with backpacks of dreaming
and hope.


© M.L.Emmett

I won't accept the end
Gently or gracefuly,
But begrudgingly,
In private anguish:
That is truth;
Unadorned,
And sure.
I've not dealt with the vanish
Of comrades in battle;
Or happened upon
A loved one
At the end of the rope.
I've felt the tug,
The smell of CO,
The hardness beneath
The Bluewater Bridge;
The bottle, blade and pill
On the frozen faces of friends,
On family:
Michael, Marlene, Jimmy, Eucheria.
The family innocents
Whisked off
In the maelstrom of bounding youth.


But you must know your father lost a father,
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some time..

Claudius speaks the cold hard truth,
But Claudius was childless;
Such guileless advice.
And Shakespeare's kids were playing
In the yard
As he penned his tragedy.
But,
Bury a child
And have an eternal membership
In the
******* for Life Club.

I can’t remember the last time
I walked in light,
nor how the sun felt on my skin,
it’s always dark in here
and while trying to make my way in any direction
I find myself stumbling upon souls I lost and souls I miss
and pieces of long forgotten feelings,
I find myself falling over words that can never be taken back
over regrets that have never been said,
I hurt myself
when I step on memories crashing under my feet and
on broken mirrors wearing my once bright face,
or on silent songs that once used to be loud.

Like a child learning how to ride a bike,
I will keep on falling over and over again,
but I’ll never learn
cause there is no one here to hold onto the saddle.

She opens a window
and hopes for the sky
to fall in from outside
and it's tailwind bring

her the moon and the clouds
lined with silver, a crowd
of the finest of stars
and a spare pair of wings..