January 15, 2014

 

Two leaves that touched

then fluttered by

fell to earth

from treetops high.

 

Both without identity

though with finger prints,

and changing colours

of matching tints.

 

Perhaps there was hope

they could re-unite

with the help of a breeze

at the dead of night.

 

Maybe once again

their paths could cross

so as to build a life

on settled moss.

 

Not too long left

each knew they had

before in frost

they would be clad.

 

If only they could

think the same,

and shelter from

the pending rain.

 

What would each do

the other thought,

recalling the lessons

they had been taught.

 

Then, as if by magic

instinct came,

to both, at once –

each thought, the same.

 

 They both had seen

a nettle bush,

under which to sit

to avoid a crush.

 

One instinctively knew,

by now, that the other,

would float straight to it

for protective cover.

 

And two seconds after

the first landed there,

the other arrived

and they became a pair.

 

written by Harriet Blackbury

 

January 10, 2014

 

 

When the mind (not in a good place),

tries to rationalise and the future face,

it is folly, an offered hand not to take,

as acceptance of help, is no big disgrace.

 

 

January 8, 2014

 

 

‘Shufty along’ she said

in a broad, husky dialect.

So I did as she asked

out of polite respect.

 

She then plonked herself

down with her old tatty bags,

and with a toothless smile,

asked if I had any fags.

 

‘I’m afraid not’ I said,

‘I have never smoked’;

She looked the type to

thump folks, if provoked.

 

I felt her strong glare,

so stared straight ahead,

hoping the conversation

could now be dead.

 

But then I softened,

when I needed to stand,

and placed some money

into her hand.

 

Thinking ‘there, but for

the grace of god, go I’.

I watched her smile return,

as I bade her goodbye.

 

When I arrived at the office,

my tale started a debate.

Some said I was crackers,

and me did berate.

 

Others said she would blow it

on ciggies and wine.

My reply to most of them was,

‘so when you do that, it’s fine?

 

A few fell silent,

they knew who they were.

It’s not just the down and outs

who excessive habits share.

 

The conversation got heated,

a guy said ‘You’ll see her tomorrow’,

‘I bet she gets on the same bus.

You’ve just bought yourself sorrow’.

 

There’s no right and wrong answer,

to what I did, that seems clear.

We all just go with our gut feeling,

when those moments appear.

 

 

 

 

January 4, 2014

 

 

Two lonely, only children,

each in their bedrooms, unable to sleep.

Both standing at their windows,

opposite each other, a vigil to keep.

 

Each night around eight thirty,

these two young faces appeared,

taking comfort in each other,

from a world of isolation they feared.

 

First one would give a gentle wave,

from his side of the back street,

followed by a wave from her,

standing on oilcloth in her bare feet.

 

Their expressions not distinguishable,

only outlined silhouette shapes,

could be recognised by moonlight,

from inside their hanging drapes.

 

This became a nightly ritual,

each shivering in dressing gowns,

until, when comforted by visual contact,

they retreated under their eiderdowns.

 

 

 

December 26, 2013

 

 

In everyday parlance,

he said very little.

His questions were short,

his reply often brittle.

 

In meetings he spoke

with his eyes on the ground.

But you felt in your gut,

he would turn things around.

 

His strength, his control,

his willingness to listen.

Then translate in a second,

words others couldn’t christen.

 

His success was well earned.

Some read, was his story.

It came right in the end.

He was surrounded by glory.

 

 

 

 

 

In the dead of night, with a silent creep,

an android came to take a peep.

 

I felt a fool just lying there.

I dare not look, nor did I stir.

 

I didn’t feel passion, or desire,

but was electrified as any live wire.

 

Under the sheet, in my private land,

I felt it softly take my hand.

 

And feeling trapped in my own space,

I felt it gently stroke my face.

 

And then as quickly, as it came,

It bade farewell and spoke my name.

 

 

 

December 19, 2013

 

 

The hurtfulness of truth, when

exercised in honest expression.

The silence of the tongue,

too late, for pardoned regression.

 

The withholding of needed words,

when agony would run too deep.

Are taken to the timely grave,

for the longest sleep.

 

The subject in question never put to bed.

Opinions not vented, in case misconstrued.

The truth, oh the mighty truth,

can sometimes be so damned rude.

 

 

 

 

December 18, 2013

 

 

Festive shadows

of Christmas past,

and romance, never

meant to last.

 

Nights of merriment

and wild high jinx.

Thoughts drifting back

to the party minx.

 

When Bohemian Rhapsody

rang out everywhere,

and the only place,

to be, was there.

 

When fun and laughter

was without restrain,

and never actions,

to defend or explain.

 

Life seemed so happy

and intoxicatingly carefree.

With the new kid in town

on top of the tree.

 

Then at the end of the night,

the tempo slowed for us too,

when Stevie Wonder just called

to say ‘I love you’.

 

 

December 16, 2013

 

 

A friend as old

as time receded.

In the background,

but there when needed.

 

A friend, who knows you

better than you.

A sounding board,

an opposing view.

 

Who leaves you with

an alternative plan,

so delicately put,

as gentle as they can,

 

but smart enough

to sit in your brain,

making sense of that,

which you do complain.

 

A friend to calm

and pacify.

Making less your madness

and justify.

 

A friend brave enough

to say you’re wrong,

after listening to

your tale so long.

 

A friend to back off

when not needed.

To give you space

with new ideas seeded.

 

A friend, a pillar

of your life.

A building block,

in times of strife.

 

A friend, a bloody

nuisance too,

when old stubborn you,

can’t see their point of view.

 

 

 

 

December 4, 2013

 

 

I can see the seat

where you were sitting,

when you opened up your heart-

You found the setting fitting

 

to reveal the secret you’d held

for most all, of your life.

Then, seemed to you the time,

to unload pride’s sacrifice.

 

In a way, I guess I knew,

or had sort of weighed it up.

Such knowledge can be drunk

from life’s rich loving cup.

 

At times I had felt your pain.

I also knew to what great length,

you’d held back tight, the past,

costing you all of your strength.

 

Often looking into your eyes,

over many years, I saw

that at times you’d just go blank,

and then quietly withdraw.

 

It was easier for you, I guess,

to sidetrack and remain aloof.

For you to acknowledge grief,

would need from you, living proof.

 

And by then, in your mind

you had ceased to exist.

With most emotion you struggled-

like a limp handshake of the wrist,

 

or a hug that was icy cold

and always released too soon,

protecting what feelings were left,

that escaped being buried that June.

 

In a muddled, befuddled way

you had learnt somehow to live-

with nothing much to take,

and even less to give.

 

With no future plans in place

and no sunny horizon ahead.

Decades came and went

with you scarcely, all but dead.

 

Just ticking along each day

with your quietly controlled act,

well worth an academy award-

no great actor could ably enact.

 

In this high security prison

you’d built within your head,

where parole not an option-

enforced railings, your bedstead.

 

You held fast your heartache,

unseen, with no hint of the hell,

that you had chosen to endure,

and that you covered up so well.

 

So now the end, but not the end,

for when a torment shared,

it is but an agony doubled,

and neither one unimpaired.

 

And now my one predicament:

‘Do I take it to my grave?’

Thus burying it forever

Oh, to this tale, I am a slave!

 

I’m left with your dilemma.

True, it now is second hand.

But I think the time has come,

to set it free with a reprimand.

 

 

 

« Older Posts — Newer Posts »