Am I so mean to you?
Is that why you leave the
Bed to go and cry alone
When you think I'm
Sleeping?*

No.

I go to think. Thinking makes me
Cry. One hour is worth five
Hours of deep sleep.
I see clearer through tears.

I go to ask. Ask why we both miss
The same sides of love.
Why we both lay on either end
Of a mile wide king size

And wait for the other's arm
To reach across the proud void.
I go to ask why we both feel
Unfairly treated for the same

Reasons. I slip away from
The sensation of sleeping alone
When I'm not; it's worse than actual
Solitude.

I go to have meetings with myself.
To evaluate. Analyze. Criticize my
Act and improve. Take and give
Blame between myselves.

Who wouldn't cry?
No, little girl. You're not mean to me.
I am. I am a poet. I don't leave your
Side to weep.

It's all poetry to me.
Poetry and tears.  
I go to sit by myself and
Not write.

Can't get over
missing the first death;
we were there
for the second.

Who failed
and what failed?
What the last words?
What last thoughts
did you have
when you slipped away
that first time around?  

We were there,
but you were in coma;
eyes shut;
breathing shallow;
machines flashing
and making
their technical noise.

We were there waiting.
Waiting for you
to come around,
waiting for you
to open your eyes,
waiting for a recovery,
waiting holding
your hands and arms,
kissing your forehead,
kissing your cheek.

We waited for time to heal,
waiting to hear
your laughter,
to see your smile,
to hear your soft words
on your breath.

We waited in hope,
unknowing,
we waited for death.

Collaboration with the amazing Jack

Twilight shadows dance upon our walkway arched of stone
Hand in hand we stroll within this sunset summer breeze
Counting every heart beat calling sweetly of our own
Dreaming of the colors now awash among the trees

I can barely take in this wonderful scene
as my favourite view has always been you
The heavenly scent upon the warm air, lingers
intertwining with us on this late afternoon

We listen as a songbird sings so sweetly up above
In harmonies that mingle with the beauty of your eyes
Following the foot prints found along this path of love
Wishing on an early star aglow these blushing skies

Forever our fingers will connect, like our souls
my wish is to always follow you on this path
walking side by side during every sensuous sunset
through our stone archway we are immersed in love

Eternal are these days my love does share with you
*Endless passioned nights where each other we cling to

flames
moving across
our feet
make us dance
in the grey light

pulling us in
separating us
and filling our minds
with words
pressed like the flowers
we press
to our lips when we are uncertain
hiding under
the absence of the moon

sparks
falling
and landing
in our hair
shattered pieces
of home made
fire crackers

kiss the mark better
please
before it leaves a scar
mirroring the crack
in my heart

I'm so lucky to have friends
right here on HP
I love the support that's sent
in each others hour of need

For without this cosy place
to bare my inner soul
I'd have no extra space
my words, no place to go

I often feel closer to you all
than my many friends at home
they only see me standing tall
notice only the courage I've shown

They know not all about my life
a 'side' I like to keep quiet
I do not share that I write
and would not call myself a poet

Although I love them dearly
each and every one
I won't bare myself freely
and doubt that day will ever come

I hold dear these precious friendships
the honesty and trust that is held
a powerful bond between poets
across the oceans, across the world

So I'm sorry, but you may have to forgive
the kisses I'll often send your way
and the loving hugs I have
that I'll send to you each day

I'm just a sentimental girl
with a lot of love to give
If you're on the other side of the world
I love you no matter where you live

A blank canvas, inspires a painter
A blank paper, inspires a poet
From a blank we can draw inspiration
They are not blank, but an empty space
Untouched with the creative juices
To be filled with different moods of hues
And written on, with the most fertile thought
From a blank, we can draw a conclusion
Inspired to come up with most enchanted sketches
As artistry is the masterstroke, drawn on a blank
An abstract idea sketched, to inspire*





© Amitav (Radiance)

Yeah these days they use the fancy term
But for us it didnt exist
Yes we killed and were killed
But who really gave a ****
Our therapy,  lets go and have a fight
With those who were fighting on our right
Yes, strong words were used, hard punches thrown
But they are my brothers, we are one
Our rules were simple
Watch a brother die
Then smack another brother in the eye
By birth or *** a brother not
And yet a brother never forgot
Yes, he gave his life for me
Just as I would have given mine for he
We answered when our country called
Take up arms lest we should fall
And for that my friend did die
But never did he hear the battle cry

To do something else; a picnic
Basket with salad
And a bottle of kiwi wine
On a blanket
In the garden
Is as good a place to sit and
Not talk
As any

Sun setting behind pines and
Birches
The land owner's five year old girl
Has kittens
On her summer dress

We laugh as she plays
With our cat
Which seems to have grown
Affectionate of
Her

And somewhere on Earth
Love finds its way
To the surface of itself
And takes a long
Awaited
Breath.

Saba sat there
and posed herself
all ready for what
she didn't say

part of my job
she said
this posing
this being seen
as such

I gazed
like a man dazed

haven't you seen
a woman like this
before?

yes
I said
sure I have

then why
the wide eye gaze?
she said

I sat down opposite
hands on my knees
looking at her hair
at her eyes
the pose
do you do this often?
I said

only if he wants me to
she said
he'll be back
he's just gone
for a bite to eat

don't you eat too?

not yet
if I get out of pose
I lose my focus
she said

does he pay well?
I asked

this is art
she said
I get enough
but it's not the pay
that counts
it's being part
of art
it'll be me
on the canvas
me outliving him

I wanted a smoke
but I’d left them
in my coat downstairs
got a ciggie?
I asked

he doesn't allow
smoking
in his studio
she said
fire risk
oils
and other
stuff around

when do you get done?
I asked

when he says
she replied
not a nine
to five job

I gazed at her
with more focus
putting out of mind
the image of her
sitting in the church pew
with her husband
he all prim and proper
and she innocent as cream

she uncrossed
her legs
revealing
a young man's dream.

stillness comes close
not a blade of grass
not a song on the wind
no-thing moves
tonight -tonight
is a night for static
tonight is special