Today we move like the wind, through the marram grass, and sand dunes, never getting snagged, forgetting and moving on.
White noise of distant traffic
Stink bug on pine cone.
I’ll keep you safe
From The cold autumn rain
You’ll keep me safe
From The bright summer sun
We’ll grow together
Our roots are the same
Under this soil of pain
I’ll keep you safe
From The fires and the flame
You’ll always stand by my side
Together we’ll grow
On the backs of our ancestors
From collective dreams
Well, I’ll remind you
Of your passion and
You’ll remind me of
Together we’ll dance
With the sunlight and shade
We reach for the same sky
Together you and I
You should have heard the gulls last night.
They cooed and hawed in the fog over a rising tide.
Wind rippling echos in the mist.
Mist from what is certainly not considered fog anymore, but cloud.
Every once in a while one glides overhead, chattering, on some mission perhaps known only to nature.
Ancient moss hangs from
Limbs, like an old man’s beard,
We peer through at birch groves.
Hey, the people over at Vita Vrevis have a haiku contest going down. Enter one yourself or stop by and share the love. Here’s mine,
Gunmetal ink clouds
Obscure silver shimmering
refractions of moon.
Comment-a-Haiku Poetry Competition! – Submit Your Poem
The mist was a cloud. We stood at the ocean’s shore, waded in the tidepools, as the wind ripped in every direction.
We live forever in a moment;
Her head slumps in my shoulder
as she drifts to sleep
Through the window
half light fractures the red cedar bark,
peeling back layers of time.
It’s the kind of light that used to mean
time to head home.
Shadows of branches distend
to the fuzzy green and brown floor.
Mom calls me home for dinner.
I begin to slump into the couch.
My stomach rocks like waves lapping the shore.
For a moment our bodies are like the salty sea foam;
formless and not divided by numbers.
The birth of things.
Of love maybe.
Or something beyond love, something that doesn’t die,
and like the foam it returns to the sea
only to remanifest.
It won’t be long before dark.
I wonder what kind of childhood memories she’ll have.
It’s not easy to transcend Space and Time on your own.
You have to sit very still,
with your eyes closed,
for a long time.
And even then it’s not a guarantee.
It’s much easier with someone else,
The mutual understanding is already there.
An agreement to terms and conditions.
Then Space and Time collapses
somewhere between a smile.
I am convinced that everyone should write poetry. Poetry is the song of the heart, it is the music of your life.