As I climb into bed
snow is softly falling
diagonally blown by breezes north
a layer of uneven crystals forming
on veranda tiles

an apricot sky of even hue
the only visible sight
the birch
its tresses gently rising
shaking
pointing down south west

I’ll let the weather carry on
as I must sleep till dawn
know that night is passing there
without the curtains drawn

Margaret Ann Waddicor 27th November 2017 ©

If Easter is a celebration for some
it is a quiet time
when spring is waiting to become
when birds start fretting building their neat nests
and sing their arias to the sun
hammer rhythms on the tall dead trees
we even here the sound of buzzing bees

shy flowers rise from sodden brown black earth
lifting their heads to open wide
little faces of light to show their place
the air is damp and bright and fresh
we open the windows take a deep breath
we're still alive to see to feel to sing
so lets rejoice now lets begin

Margaret Ann Waddicor 13th April 2017

Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Say she is vapour
Venom, velvet and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
Clutch the moments, clutch the moonbeams
Clutch the stretched out skies of cloud and mustard gas sunset
Sing she is a child of trauma
Supressed in the name of breathing
Violence in the name of skin
And she is venom, velvet and vermouth
She was born to pink salt lakes in the low country
With ruby pomegranate eyes
And hair of hazelnut rapture
Girl with the soul of a thousand pilgrim journeys
Girl with the soul of a blackberry bush
Girl with the soul of olive trees and sheep meat and oven bread in the fire country
Human smiles
And other dark things of value
She lies like velvet
She lies in the name of supressing traumas
In the name of breathing
She bleeds like a billion stars bleed vapour
She is venom and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
She is the sum of a thousand pilgrim journeys
The prayer of holy rivers in the canyon country
The smoke of incense burned by sages
The scars of bodies burned by crusaders in mustard gas chambers
Goddess of Nuclear energies
Red-eyed like ruby pomegranates
Like the dewy cauldron of morning
When tenuous steps lead bodies down the path of executionary revolution
To boarders, frontiers, walls of white-skin scar tissue
Sing songs of Babylon in the free country
Clutch the moments
Clutch your breaths and hold them in broken palms
Clutch the tides and teach them
Breach your rib-cage, unstitch and return the borrowed bones
Melt the metaphoric thrones
Breathe backwards in the name of unsupressing traumas
In the name of truth
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Girl of angel-breath ambition
Soul of blackberry bush and smile of splintered terracotta tile
Sing your songs
Say she is vapour

When we grow up
can we be wise
I wonder
I doubt it

and yet
there are some who do
some who don't
some we don't know of

no it is hard to tell
even oneself
how can we measure it
how do we know it

yet we know when we see it
or feel it or sense it
we know it

Margaret Ann Waddicor 17th September 2016

Unawares time passes rivers flow
the heart beats on its continuous mission
we live a life not knowing the end
not knowing what impact we will make on it
on others
on ourselves
on the environment

hoping it will be well spent
helping others to live theirs
only totally aware part of the time
the rest is carried out by the automatic
functions of the brain subconsciously

we lean on the walls of reality
some support us
some fall as we touch them
it is all trial and error
try once and evaluate

to judge this existence is not possible
only partially aware of it we surmise its quality
equate its harmony
and finally fall into the bliss of oblivion
none the wiser for having lived

Margaret Ann Waddicor 8th April 2016

They never set foot on earth again
you know 
just like the animal and ant 
they go 
we feel our conscious selves as indestructible 
you know 
and yet we never meet their like 
although some human traits continue on 
you know 

we are not more clever 
nor more bright 
than we were when man was dressed in skins 
you know 
but what it is that gives us life 
we'll never know 
you know 

Margaret Ann Waddicor 25th August 2016