Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jul 2018 Polar
Busbar Dancer
She has never built sandcastles.
She has never toed the surf along the Gulf of Mexico.
She's only ever known these mountains;
these cold, granite monuments to impassibility
that reduce the sky to slits,
somehow managing to make the heavens smaller.

Half closed eyelids with their own trap-door gravity.

Short lives last eternities too
and there is beauty to be had
- even here -
It's just that everyone should get to build sandcastles sometimes.
Polar Jun 2018
He
He speaks the language of flowers
Quietly toiling in his garden
Digging, raking and smoothing soil,
Gently coaxing nature to match his vision.
He knows the bees, spiders, beetles, worms and earwigs
Regarding them as friends.
He follows seasons, moon and stars
As others do people
Enthralled at the changes they bring.
He listens as the birds sing
Watching with joy as
Fledgling take wing.
Polar Apr 2018
In the stillness of the dark
I sit,
And outside my window
The night holds many possibilities.
People move within the shadows
Barely visible to the ***** eye
Living shadow lives alongside my own.

Do we dream together?
And will love survive death?

I see you
In different times
Living different lives
And myself as a shadow
Living my own shadow life.
Polar Apr 2018
Like hamsters on a wheel we ran
Away from horses hooves
Zig zagging through trees
To be hunted like deer
Hiding in holes
Covered in dirt
Crawling under rocks like insects

One by one, we fell.

In terror, we ran back to the place we knew best. Entered the darkness, remembering our way to the waterside.

Safety, of a kind.

The heavy moon poured light from the star laden sky. We merged from the thick copse to be bathed in the calming white of her rays.

Eyes drawn to the glint of the moons' light, touching the tops of the ripples in the water, made brighter still by the surrounding darkness.

Shimmering, like magic.

It was cold, perfectly cold, and the air was fresh and open, the kind of night the veil stays so thin into the night and you can almost see just by feeling. When you can feel the serene and endless expanse of the universe. An overwhelming sense of purity and clarity.

Nothing, and everything.

The slight movement of air on the trees and the gentle lapping of water on the bank told us we were safe, for now at least.

We returned to the real through trees and fields, passing streams and reeds along the lakeside.

We were separated. I knew then, I felt it. I was strangely comforted by its sadness.

Peaceful sleep, first for an age.

I woke before dawn clutching a vision. A message so clear it could never be dream. Time passed, finally their eyes caught mine and stared into my soul. Then it was gone, in an instant hidden.

The vision was realised.
Polar Mar 2018
I hear the rhythmic clapping
And feel the pounding of feet on the ground
As dust swirls and dances around
While I sit facing the sun
In all her divine beauty.
Encased in the wood of the red gum tree,
I am at peace.
Burnum carves my totem outside
Surrounded by holy men,
Loved ones and ancestors.
This is my signifier and protection.
I am Miki the moon
Recently returned to my tribe
Heeding the call of the spirits.
My people mourn deeply
But know I will come again
To be at one with them,
First I must commune with the great creator
Rainbow spirit of the sky
For now is the time for dreaming.
Thank you everyone for the likes/ loves and comments, you made my day special!! :0)
Polar Feb 2018
We walked in with the snow
Carried on drifts
Talking to the ghosts of those
We had left behind.
The sun fought in contrast
To the biting air of  the frozen landscape.
Our breath visible proof of life
As we trod crystals underfoot.
Strange monuments marked our journey
Charred sculptures of wood
Dotted throughout the forest.
I searched for you
Halting the path of strangers
All to no avail.
We passed boulders of burial grounds
Heads bowed in silence
As we continued to follow the spirit paths
Of these haunted lands.
Walking towards the future
Where we only met our past.
Polar Aug 2017
There's a ghost in the machine
A distant heartbeat
An echo
A recollection of tides pulled by the rhythm
Of the moon
A lunar cycle
Of leaves swirled
And now settled
By the whisper
Of the breeze
A message repeated
But not audibly heard
Remembered and understood.
You are in the right place
Where you need to be
All you need now
Is to breathe and be.
Thank you everyone for the likes and comments, my poem being chosen as the Daily has made my day!! :0)
Next page