I chipped in my small effort
breathing in and out

keeping my heart beating
a belief in loves need

- need to love
me and all those I like least

Equal in all things
loves pinnacle, beckons.
-

The sky throws down her hail
laughing as she goes
keeping us all running for shelter.

for Dennis Lee*

By the river
at night

burned stubble
of sugar cane
feathers the air with a lick of caramel

a quiet earth underscores
crocus and chorusing cricket
as curlew weep their distant sonorous calls

******* the stillness
we pluck a string of starlight

to pull a gentle breeze closer
we tug on orbiting moons

in the darkness of deep
we become motionless
intent to watch worlds
and enter the symphony


MChallis @ 2015

We are drawn into the light from birth till the day we die , from the placating influence of our morning Sun to the reassurance of the Moon at night.. To kaleidoscopic stars that beckon at twilight to the advent of rainbows as storm clouds subside ..
The out pouring of the soul by the fireside , the twinkle in a child's eye ...
The audacity of lightning in the midnight hour , the reflective diamonds in each wave rushing to the shore ..
From the brilliant orbs of the fireflies in June to the Northern Lights at the precipice of Earth..

Alone at midnight
Beneath the cold stars
The warmth of the sun
Seems so far away
Suffocating deep within
Unheard screams echo
Trying to break those cold chains
That bind my heart
Not knowing how to unravel
Its stifling pattern
Frozen
Living on the precipice
Fearful of the fall
Hopeful to take flight

Kelly Rose
November 16, 2015

The Christmas tree shone brightening up the room
Decorations hung in splendour
Gifts lay beneath the tree
He was sat in his favourite armchair
A man at peace with the world
He would watch the children run down the stairs
The room would come alive as they opened their presents
A special present for the good lady
The noise drifted into the past
A long time ago
Seemed like yesterday
The accident
The Policewoman crying telling him the news
The day he died inside
Seventeen years now
Always the same ritual
Made the day seem right, special
Memories came flooding back
He sat down to rest
Slowly drifting off to sleep
They found him that way
In his favourite armchair
A man at peace with the world.

to my longings yore
for a bicycle under the Christmas Tree,
I wandered into the den
and caught mama with him,
a long white beard on his
surprised face, red suit on the chair,
mama's knickers on the floor,
and with much chagrin,
Santa the next day delivered
a new shiny Schwinn!  To me!

Looking at life in terms of building
a planned unison of angles
     lines, textures, visions of construction
     devices of change,
designed to shape the fluid setting
power is re-viewed, re-visited, and re-arranged
channeled through the chosen tool
to become a force
that gently strikes at the world
until it is worn away
and becomes perceptibly different
       talk, talk
          talk, talk
          A silent change consumes you
          and you become...........................................................­..................
       quietly different
       and you begin to fade
       from there. to here
    where the processes are constructed
the workshop of my chosen life
pull, cut, pull, cut
pull, cut, hammer, pull, cut
reality becomes constructed
observations become utilized
the past begins to speak
and the fingers touch the string
and they begin to fly
singing their song, till a vision is shaped
a vision only a builder's eyes can perceive
and the builder begins to smile,
and glow, and half-hum and half-sing
some forgotten builder's song
     And when his eyes, through a chosen glance,
     touch yours and appear to be quietly reaching
         no doubt they are, no doubt they are,
                     smiles the builder..............................................

"Don't pop yet!
We all know who you are!"

said the blue balloon to the red balloon
as they elevated by their nobility
to embrace clouds.