How dark the walls
That hide our shadows
Dancing in the light
Of images cast brightly
Mapping regions lost
And angst so bold
To fill sedentary lives
With excited sobriety
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Movie. A poem.
Boxes. A poem.
Life reduced to boxes
Cartons of memory
Refuse of lifetimes
Stacked and sorted
Taped and sealed
Like canopic jars
Awaiting the afterlife
Awaiting release
When stored thoughts
And precious mementoes
Will leap forth
With renewed vigour
From cardboard cages
To stride the open veldt once more
To live and breathe as before
Before time locked them away
In sealed boxes of fate
Unsure of eternity
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Crush. A poem.
She gets by
On creative bent
And poor self image
A love of God
And 60’s music
But when she smiles
She’s Aphrodite
All wonder, shine
And wry amusement
And I’m swept away
Off my feet and into dreams
But some dreams can never be
Because life is pure
Reality
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Trois Haiku
Telecaster
Weaving ecstasy
Musica Exotica
Telecaster Love
Chemo
Cancerous growth
Burning fear, tempus fugit
Walk a straighter path
Nightmare
Veil of sleep, behind
Tormented dream, deja vu
Woe begotten tide
I will forever adore the Haiku and its mystical 5/7/5 syllable structure. Here are three I composed this morning.
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Scream. A Poem Of Dreams.
The angry tide
The beach swept clean
Refuse returned to the slumber of the sea
The frozen snows
Such bitter cold
Ground disguised, glistening winter freeze
The haunted house
All empty rooms
Cavities and mouldings hold mysteries
The ocean ship
Pitches, rolls away
The storm that blows onward drunkenly
All these things
Broil and seethe
In relentless dreams I drown, I scream
I dream about all sorts of stuff. I know you do too.
Care to share?
