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Wednesday 27 March 2013

The Darkness Wins























late winter blues
shades of night
the madding keys
of chopin’s mind
keening in my ears
breath comes quick
stark upon the air
but she’s not here

wet march snows
sleeting drifts
washington, d.c.
reunited lovers kiss
chestnut hair
cascades down
i whispered her name
and we forgot to eat

memory shifts
like distant clouds
below a mountaintop
glimpses open fast
of what’s left behind
melancholy waltz
darkness comes as
shards in a looking glass

her pale hand
caressed my brow
hushed words we spoke
my fingers in her hair
brown eyes flecked with grey
full honeyed lips
soft fingertips
before i her trust betrayed

stormy hands crash
the first ballade
chopin grasping
the darkling seam inside
though what’s dark
can be beautiful
glissando fingers
can’t cast grief aside

late winter blues
bleach the night
in a minor key
menacing trees sway
in violent thrusts
vestiges of lust
dark nights
luminous skin

i speak her name
in grey gusts
hanging in the air
the cold wind sings
on high octave strings
piano quakes
the artist raked in
the sounding board’s despair

clouds shift once more
lone streetlamp shines
cold hands dark veins
diminuendo calm
regret surfaces
fading memory like
snowmelt in a river
i am alone again

in this dusking world
some few chances
in this short life
years flood by
hair greys
hands reach for
her smirking face
only finding strife

arpeggios of soothing calm
linger on
cathartic balm for
ranging fits of madding when
seized by memory
beauty struggles
the darkness wins
and tragedy transcends

Thursday 21 March 2013

All In Green























i like the rain upon the fir tree
sweet drops of drifting cloud
softly falling fresh and constant
endowing us with life

winter’s campaign is ebbing
northern wintry wall recedes
revealing true the good earth’s
dappled browns and greens

storm systems gather
as our world spins round
from a tempest in chennai
comes a wild monsoon that drowns

we are tilted through our axis
twenty-three degrees off-kilt
summer points us toward the sun
and winter hides us away

an impact from ancient millenia
made our glowing night sky face
to rule the ebb and neap tides
as round the sun we spin through space

with the sun and moon
our seasons whirl and ebb and flow
spinning round the whole wide world
turning through each season’s show

so we know the burn and the bitter
not stuck in either the long year round
and though winter can be brutal
without the cold no spring would sprout

still these little drops grace the fir tree
and softly wet your hair
spring remains at arm’s length
but suddenly i don’t care

ever softly turning
toward a new day yet unseen
today i know for certain
spring is coming all in green

~e

Monday 4 March 2013

In Cheerless Rooms
























chairs of wood and vinyl wait
in cheerless rooms
with stagnant clocks
and nurses in soft shades of blue or

green the gross tint on the wall
and tiled floors of ammonia reek
while coffee sipped in paper cups
won’t speed our purgatoric wait

rails of chrome reflect fluorescent
lights in drowsy patterns there
arms and legs in casts that itch
hoi polloi shift their feet

wheelchair girl rolls in among
unconscious on and on she moans
a nasal voice wants doctor young
while we all sit impatiently

all the magazines are old and folded
in a mouldy corner television blares
ads for arthritic cream or muscle pills
that shed quick pounds and tone your pecs

nurses come for needle pricks or x-ray pics
or instagrams–emergency is overrun
they’re understaffed and children scream
or put quiet questions to sleepy mums

who check their phones for sexty tweets
and tell the clerk 'my son's been here since'
in the back technicians scan methodically
between their breaks and flirty barbs

the air is stale but tense with fear
unnoticed panic builds and urine spills
we hold our noses, collecting
in worn loaferware but no one comes

~e