Lost in a dark space
Dancing in my mind,
all night long on the melody within.
The song that’s in my heart
bringing back memories dear to me,
long forgotten words like bright butterflies
in search of attractive colored bloom.
Memories from time that’s death
still shining like a star on midnight’s heaven.
I smell the scent of white jasmine
and in your arms I’m back again.
Then everything fades away and I’m back
above grey clouds where there is no light to see.
Floating around not knowing who I am and where I’m going.
Lost in my world of silence.
I hear voices known to me
not knowing who are the speakers.
Drowning in shallow waters,
pray to God to set me free,
lead me home to familiar faces.
The fear that is choking me like
black cotton in my airways.
In a moment very clear to me
I’m back with my mother, brothers, sisters
and my father.
Home sweet home.
I’m smiling.
I am found.



Shell ✨🐚

Hey you
Don’t tell me what to do
Or try to change my point of view
Are you deranged?
When you say the sky is blue
The chocolate ration has increased
Nothing’s changed
There is no inflation
My frustration grows
Who knows how long it will be
Before this tidal wave pollutes the sea
Do you think my eyes are closed?
That I don’t realise; I don’t know?
Hey you
I was a symptom
That’s for sure
But now I want to be
Part of the cure

Forgotten in the rank long grass
A Café of an ancient class,
Purloining in a classic way
Good beverages of yesterday.
Astride a weathered timber seat
We sat and deigned to rest our feet,
The comfort in this run down place
Permitting smiles to crease our face.

We happened, on this windy day,
To watch the rippled grasses sway,
Watched the starlings flock and mass
Above, in clouds of seething gas.
Autumn tones in billowed leaves
Gathered as the breezes pleased.
Stretched the legs and felt the sun….
Joyously, we laughed, as one.

She served us mugs of steaming brew
A thick Moroccan medley stew
With vegetables in chilli’s bite
And sautéed lamb to add delight.
So glorious, in the afternoon,
We sipped, deliciously, attuned.
Moments, in that space of time,
To make our wondrous day….sublime.

M.
Taranaki, NZ
April 2022

We reach a point where
all our night and daydreams
revolve around the things
we did rather than the things
we want to do, featuring the
person we used to be.

A remembered scrapbook of
Life already lived rather than
anticipated. An exercise in
Self-Absolution perhaps
sometimes dreamed in color.

when does the poem end?


creation is never ending,
the earth is endlessly morphing

but you lean back and say
enough
not because the poem
is finished,
for it is never finished,
because an exhalation feels
satisfying, releasing

but the poem never ends,
nor does the need to

exhale

not with the final .


the next poem is

but a

continuation

of the previous poem;

a continuation

of you~poem,

inhaling

and

exhaling

& morphing.

Sat Jan 7
7:57am