Tag Archives: calm

Lull

Lull
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

It is here
in these quiet moments
that we find it;
 

when we have nailed
hurricanes to the floor
and collected monsoons
in thimbles,
 

as we lay,
chests heaving,
in the debris-strewn dust,
 

waiting
for a subtle shift,
a tender tremor
that will lift us to our feet
 

and have us leaning
into the wind, learning
to trust the breeze
once more.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Palm Sunday

hands 4
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sit bones settle uneasy
on ground glass and razor shells.
Eyes fix on unexpected horizon
 

kinked and wavering in the heat
of a new reality; the once sharp line
between blue and bluer now bunched
 

and caffled in blurred uncertainty.
Parallel gazes, oblivious, until hands
scrabble soft in deep, white sand,
 

fingers and thumbs sifting possibilities,
seeking equilibrium – finding it
in the upturned palm of another.
 
 

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Symmetry, Linguistics and the Art of Surrender

Daisy Chain 2
 

Relinquishing the day,
I watch your tongue
chase vowels, curl
 

around consonants, your
lips spilling daisy chains
on my bare shoulders.
 

I tilt my head, mirroring
your movements, inhale
the faint creases around
 

your mouth, allowing
myself to unravel as
you unfold in a smile.
 
 

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Postcards from the Shore

wave2
 
 

Just as the wave
lifts itself
from the vast body
to assume new shapes
 

so we rise
to become what life
requires of us.
 

When the wind
drops
losing its fight
with gravity
 

the restoring force
returns us
to ourselves.
 
 

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Latitude


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Comfort creeps upon me
as I relocate garments;
unexpected stillness
settling on my hands
as I stuff ribboned socks
into drawers,
slip away new knickers,
fold cashmere sweaters
onto shelves.
 

Wrapover dresses
billow
in new spaces,
their delicate fabric
clinging
to extravagant
velveteen hangers,
thin shoulders
wreathed in relief.
 

Narrow apertures expand
to accommodate
shoes and boots
that had kicked
rebelliously
against the glass walls
of a vast walk-in wardrobe
 

and scarves,
caffled until now,
unravel;
soft bedfellows
languishing
with the hats and gloves.
 

Here
there is room for everything,
even the elusive raiment of hope.
 
 

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Strawberry Crush


 
 

We lull in hammocked hum of summer days,
cocooned within our hessian-tilted hush,
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 

Our skin soft-spun in gifted lithium rays,
hair honey-combed beneath Belenus’ brush,
we lull in hammocked hum of summer days.
 

Gold buttercupping chins in pollen haze,
our creamy cheeks full-fill with nascent blush,
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 

Oak blossom, broom and meadowsweet ablaze,
while grifting scents from freshly-cut grass crush
we lull in hammocked hum of summer days.
 

With eager lips we feast on juicy fraise,
tongues quenched as we devour vermilion rush,
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 

Suspended far above the ticking baize
and bathed in season’s smooth lutescent flush,
we lull in hammocked hum of summer days
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 
 

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Filed under Poetry, Villanelle