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Wednesday, 1 January 2014

Poetry 01/01/2014

Hi cyberspace

I created this blog at the request of a very dear friend who would like me to add some of my poetry for people to read. In a moment of weakness I agreed. Hope you find some way to enjoy my words and may this new year be all we can desire and hope for.

Lost for words
Degraded moments of time
lay rotting in senseless shades of apathy
capturing want beneath crosses of broken dreams.
The self became buried,
mired in pages of legible font,
a manuscript of my life for the chosen.
Carrying me through waking lethargy,
lost became the by-word to life
stumbling me through avenues of thought where answers eluded me.
Under the simple guise of words
tainted anger coloured my thoughts.
My inability straight-jacketed my understanding
hiding the faint tune of the publisher and her creative orchestra.
Light cut through the darkness,
awakening the mind in musical remedies of my forgotten art,
her simple caring words offered hope to the lost
and a new challenge was born.

01/01/2014

This was written as a poem that saw me floundering in my art toward the end of 2013 only to be reborn with a new challenge for 2014 but more on that later.

Well today in the little hamlet where I live has been a day of torrential rain and heavy winds much like the rest of the country. Well thanks to this heavy duty weather I was inspired to pen a few poems which I hope all will enjoy.
Thanks for having a look
The Poet

Penumbra-The Half Shadow of the storm
Prelude to a storm you arrive,
a halfling, entrapped in neither night nor day,
the bastard child of nature, unclaimed and unloved.
Smoky grey you spread your diaphanous veil across the land,
waiting for the storm’s fury to be unleashed.
Held rigid amid dark clouds,
night encroaches your borders in shades of pitch,
you hope for life but expect death.
Respite appears in pale sunshine, storm clouds abating,
darkness falls back to the far horizons,
briefly beaten into submission by the rising tide of light.
Alone and forgotten,
you colour the fresh new world in shades of grey,
a half shadow at work, hidden by dark and light on a stormy day.

New Year storm
Pale light gives way to darkness,
Sodden clouds batter the horizons,
Releasing veils of tears upon the ravaged canvas of New Year’s Day.
Behind windows awash with travelling rivulets,
I watch the fury unleashed in rhythmic heartbeats of destruction.
Wind sirens call to me in hypnotic voice seeking entrance to my thoughts,
Whispering at each washed out pane calling me into their turbulent playground.
Peppered with water buckshot,
I traverse quagmire pathways of once solid lands,

Hiding in in hooded security I seek the fabled land of hope.

Reflections lost in a storm
Night within a day on ebony wings glide,
whipping the clouds of war into a frenzy.
Like sailors of old; the flagships ride the squall,
elemental ports open, preparing for war.
Shuffling forward with non-languid grace,
I rest my head upon the cold, ghostly reflection of you.
Siamese twins; locked together in our transparent mirror,
behind/in front of a prison without bars.
Tinged in black ink; tainted clouds lie in wait,
ready to unleash destruction on an unsuspecting land.
Looking upon your worried face; I grimace,
each staccato raindrop a death knell erupting on the glass.
Hands meeting under crackling thunder,
our fingers trace trails of condensation
betraying the fleeting life of the raindrop.
Brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers,
all flowing together into a rivulet of death.
Lifting a finger in absent attention,
I feel for the tears erasing you from existence,
but these tears are yours alone,
my finger scrapes heavily on the aridness of age.
Watery scars now criss-cross your face,
our time is short, but a fleeting moment in life,
I step back;
your mimicked movement almost laughing at my unease.
Murky reflections of ill-defined images,
what was once me is now you;
a macabre mime being washed from existence. 
I see your pain, but feel nothing.
Snapping the blinds closed upon your rage;
I still feel your hot anger behind your latted lids, 
waiting for my ultimate act of betrayal.
Heavy blue shroud in my grip I draw our final act to a close,
releasing you to your watery grave.
Reborn in the sunshine, I await your return,
my reflection, no longer lost in the storm.


2 comments:

  1. I am so happy to see you here at last. As always, I love the poems....everyone of them a gem in it's own right!

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  2. Welcome to Blogland Poet. Les told me about this and I am very happy she did. I can identify very well with Reflections in a Storm as it is so much like our Highveldt thunderstorms.......though I would find it hard to choose a favourite here. Keep it up please.

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