In this patch of dark

In this patch of dark

that spreads across a whole sky

and smears itself across my open hand,

is a dream.

I pick its limp wings from

the tangle of sooty scraps

and wipe my hand clean

on the weeping grass.

No regrets, I say, a bare-faced lie.

The sky is spangled with regrets.

They glitter in gorgeous indifference

even in my sleep.

Quadrille 4: Shadows fall

Shadows fall

against the gold

of the sunny wall.

By the fire, tales are told

when silence sleeps,

and someone weeps.

Bird sings a tune,

fills the tree with song,

its berries strewn.

These things are true,

like the smiling face

that isn’t you.

Colours of hope

A poem for The Secret Keeper’s writing prompt. The words to include are:

WEALTH | LONG | DREAD | VIEW | RED

 

How do I count the colours bright,

that paint the fields and fill the light,

across the waves and out of sight?

All these hues a heart can hold,

the reds and blues the green and gold,

fiery hot and winter cold—

a wealth to store against the past.

It fell, a shooting star, so fast,

our love no longing could make last.

With no regrets, I look ahead,

with green of hope and little dread,

to find a new love in your stead.

 

Triolet: Petals in the mud

For the Secret Keeper’s writing challenge. I haven’t used the exact words of the prompt, but the spirit is there.

FLASH | USE | TRIGGER | VIEW | BACK

Photo©Katja Schulz

The sight of petals in the mud

Recalls those times we used to walk

And hear our hearts pulse in the blood.

The sight of petals in the mud,

A moment spent beside the flood,

We dropped them like our idle talk.

The sight of petals in the mud

Recalls those times. We used to walk.

 

 

 

 

Tanka: Gulls’ call

Reusing this lovely image.

On that empty shore

where glassy waves ever break

gulls call, I answer.

Raising white wings I follow

with a backward glance for you.

Empty arms

I might find something less sad for Sacha’s writing prompt, but for the moment, this is what ‘the hug you’ve been waiting a long, long time for’ inspires.

Empty arms

 

There have been so many times,

Your arms around me, held so tight,

When I have thought heaven was mine,

In an embrace that fills the night.

Each time that tenderness, so sweet,

I just reach out and you are there,

Our bodies fit, match and complete,

Is almost more than I can bear.

But the deepest longing, never sated,

Beneath the bliss, a constant pain,

Is for those gone far beyond my loving,

All those I’ll never hold again.

Love and swans

Another day’s twitter poems that seemed to follow the same theme.

 

From the otherworld you come,

mist-wrapped, blue-eyed, smiling,

and in your hands

all the love that ever grew

in either world.

 

Thrill of the sun on my skin,

your eyes in mine,

and the sky above.

Waves lap about our feet,

while the gull carries our song.

 

In the sky above the shadows,

swallows swoop

in the last light,

before the dark inks in the blue

and their wild dance

bows out before

the stately minuet

of the stars.

 

Is there poison in this sweet honey

that drips so slow from your red lips?

Take it away, and I am left lonely,

longing to be the bloom

where the bee sips.

 

The touch of your hand enthralls,

your soft words enchant,

but when you kiss,

the sun stands still,

and no shadows grow.

 

Gulls, waves, sun,

glint and shift,

and in the bright air,

stolen from the dusk,

we rise, swans enlaced,

to follow the path of dreams.