A Poem: Colours

Every day, season has its colours.None devoid.Every season its light.Lengthening days, or longer nights,light still comes. Often the morecherished for its shortened appearance. And colours new or faded,have their own presence.Enough to draw tears, arouse our memories,bring disquiet.What do we do about the changes in hue?We can only witness. It all happens without us,though we … More A Poem: Colours

A Poem: Reaching Out

Reach out.When you feel lonely, you might find it strange,but the tips of your fingers, your skin,though it may not find another’s flesh,will register something.Will hear as though they had ears. Reach out, stretch out to left and right.There is the sound of children laughing, crying.A couple on their bikes, passing in a rush of … More A Poem: Reaching Out

A Poem: Marking Time

What did you do by the clock today? Yesterday, at work,I heard it ticking, collecting seconds,minutes, conveying themlike little lorries,scattering them as ashes. And today I took the car for its service,dutifully walked, weeded,did the laundry, the floor,read by the clock,as though watched, monitored. Aware, that discipline,at least in the home, is not one of … More A Poem: Marking Time

A Poem: Messages

I am combing the air for scraps of thingsI’m not ready to put down. Is restless the right word for dreams unrealised? Or needs unspokenfor there being no language adequate, eloquent enoughto enable the expression. I know I have one foot here,the other searching, like toes underwaterfeeling for shells. I have one mind here,one heart. … More A Poem: Messages

A Poem: Origins

There is there, there is here.Then and now.There is nothing without a linkintrinsic to the other.Therefore everything is bound,somehow.Though undone, it is tied.There is water, there is sky.Each a mirror, a thing in itself,a reflection of the whole.There are symbols,like lettersof a language we don’t know,but know we once shared.And may yet again.For there is … More A Poem: Origins

A Poem: Failing

You will fail.But if you fail doing what you love,then what failure is that.You have chosen the better thing,the way of living.Which in essence is succumbingto life.Loss, gain – who is counting?As soon as you countyou’re measuring the blessings.At what point then does lossturn to gain?And when do gains run out?Throw out the yardstick,the balancing … More A Poem: Failing